Kamran wasted no time, approaching his fallen rival with a ferocious determination. One final time he raised his sword— And froze. A breathtaking paralysis took hold of his body where he stood, so severe the sensation that Kamran could hardly breathe. He watched, as if pressed between panes of glass, as Cyrus clambered to his feet, sheathed his sword, retrieved his staff, and searched for his hat. Once the strange article was settled firmly on the tyrant’s head, he walked up to Kamran’s statue and smiled. “There is very little honor left in me, Melancholy King. Certainly not enough to die when
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