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Wait. His name was Adonalsium-Will-Remember-Our-Plight-Eventually? That was the best one Nomad had heard yet. He really needed to keep a list of these Threnodite names.
He didn’t like who he’d become. But he didn’t miss who he’d been either—not really. He’d lived, grown, fallen, and…well, changed. There had to be a third option. A way not to put his former life on a pedestal, but also not to be a personified piece of garbage.
You didn’t always get to fight the right people. In fact, you often had to fight the wrong ones—at least until you could stop the men and women who gave the orders.

