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... d landscape. The throne, carved from obsidian and laced with veins of molten gold, stood at the highest point of the darkened citadel. A seat befitting the one who sat upon it.

Lucifer.

Chin resting on his fist, his eyes—glowing embers of unholy fire—watched over the Pangu Realm as it repaired itself. The scars of war were already fading, the very fabric of reality stitching itself back together. Towers of jade and gold, once reduced to rubble, now rose anew. The rivers, tainted ...

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