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... iolent. Vahn Ryker stepped over the shattered corpse of a Level 35 Abyssal Minotaur, his boots splashing into a shallow pool of dark water. He flicked his wrist, the pitch-black blade of his Soul-Bound dagger shedding a thick layer of glowing blood.
The environment of the high twenties was a sprawling subterranean labyrinth of ruined aqueducts and crumbling stone pillars. The air was thick with humidity and the metallic tang of dried blood. Without his Verdant Chronos-Sight to map the la ...
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