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He checked the hidden blade at his wrist. The mechanism felt smoother, the steel catching the moonlight with a clarity that seemed impossible just years ago. The shadows in the alleys were deeper now, the textures of the brick and mortar beneath his boots more rugged and real. It was as if the very fabric of his memory had been sharpened.
He leaped. The transition from the wooden beam to the hay cart below was a blur of fluid motion. He moved through the streets not as a ghost, but as a force of nature. In the distance, the silhouette of a Templar officer emerged from the fog, flanked by guards. Connor didn’t reach for his bow; he reached for the heavy weight of his Tomahawk. Assassin's Creed III RemasteredData edycji: 25-...
"They are coming, Ratonhnhaké:ton," a voice echoed in his mind—or perhaps it was just the wind. He checked the hidden blade at his wrist
The wind off the Boston Harbor didn't just bite; it gnawed. Connor stood atop the skeletal frame of a merchant ship under construction, his breath hitching in the frigid air of 1775. Below him, the city was a powder keg of red coats and rebel whispers, but through his eyes—the eyes of an Eagle—the world was stripped of its distractions. It was as if the very fabric of