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... It was static. It tasted like ozone and forgotten memories, a sensory input that the human brain struggled to translate into coherent data. Alvian stood amidst the ruins of what looked like a city built by a madman—stone castles fused with steel skyscrapers, floating islands of dirt defying gravity, and weapons sticking out of the ground that flickered in and out of existence.
He stepped forward. His boot didn’t crunch on gravel. It passed through the texture of the ground for a fraction ...
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