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                                        Chapter 95: Flamefront
                                
                                                                                        
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                                        Chapter 97: The Seeker Below
                                
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... should’ve gone. The walls were lined with scorched murals—fragments of battles lost, faces twisted in agony, cities devoured by flame. But none of them moved. None changed.
They weren’t illusions.
They were warnings.
Each step pressed heavier than the last. Not from exhaustion, but weight. Memory. The deeper they went, the tighter the air became. Not from smoke. From pressure. Like the mountain wanted to keep them out.
Or keep something in.
Leon said nothi ...
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