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... ow of sensation. The sterile, ozone-tang of the med-bay air scraped his raw throat. Every breath was a laborious heave, met by a jagged protest from his left side where three ribs screamed their betrayal.
The memory of godhood – the effortless power, the absence of need – was a phantom limb, agonizing in its absence. He remembered the crushing weight of Mammon’s final blow, the sickening crackle as divine energy extinguished within him, leaving only this fragile, aching meat-sack. He gro ...
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