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... hreads in the fabric of time, and the lake, with its barely rippling surface, seemed to be the only witness to Ren's silent struggles. The boy was there every morning, his steady breathing blending with the rhythm of the waves. Yet today, something felt different.

Ren knelt on the damp ground, his body as still as a statue, but within him, the chakra flowed symmetrically. His hands moved with the precision of an artisan carving a complex masterpiece, weaving seals with an almost sacred d ...

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