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... , sulfur-breathing inch of it."
Kang Min’s boot slipped on a patch of loose, black obsidian, and he barely caught himself, his fingers digging into the scorched rock until his knuckles turned white.
The air at this altitude was less oxygen and more a cocktail of ash and ancient malice.
He spat a mouthful of grey grit onto the slope, his chest heaving.
His mercenary leather was caked in a layer of fine soot, and the heat radiating from the mountain’s crust was star ...
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