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... nt Magical Script taking a blue, ghostly form in his surroundings.
His eyes were glowing blue.
His breath was misting blue.
His black hair donned blue at the ends.
No gloves. No shoes. No external object seemed to be carved with those mystical runes.
Yet, power seemed to be in his grasp at a mere thought.
And Black thought; commanded; willed.
With a thundering rhythm, dozens of tiny, incomprehensible runes boiled around before landing on th ...
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