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... clear.

He moved.

Alerian Arkanveil struck again—faster than thought, a blur of raw battle instinct forged through countless wars. His blade carved through the air with lethal precision, drawing runes of flame in its wake. Every swing seemed to tear at the very fabric of the realm, each impact singing a hymn of destruction.

Lucien twisted, his feet gliding across the obsidian ground, the soles of his boots leaving fleeting trails of ember-light. Sparks erupted where their ...

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