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Weekly Contest #263
My ears rang as my blade screeched against the stone block. I needed my weapon to be sharp as a glare for what was to come. I come from a long line of superhumans, each more powerful than the last, and my father wanted me to keep that trend going. I remember the earliest years of my youth, completely consumed with training. At four years old, I had my first lesson on combat. At five years old, I had my first fight. My first fight with my father anyway. He landed a blow, a blow that felt nothing like the intensity of love I thought I kn...
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