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Only those who forge themselves in the weapons-training fire, only those who dance with death on the battlefield, will earn the right to call themselves victors. Each level conquered, a scar etched into your soul, a testament to your indomitable spirit. This is your baptism by fire, soldier. Embrace it, for beyond the crucible lies not just victory, but the right to stand among the few, the proud, the warriors who stared into the abyss and blinked back, steel glinting in their eyes. So step into the forge, soldier. Let the training fires burn away your weakness, and emerge scarred but unyielding. The battlefield awaits, and victory whispers your name.
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