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... e aliens, even that mohawk merchant who looked like he lost a bet with Satan.
And if they were all winning… then obviously, I had to win too.
Because what kind of king lets his subordinates carry the plot while he stands around like moral support with abs?
I turned my focus back to Malthus — my favorite cosmic hemorrhoid.
He'd thrown a damn sun at me.
And I'd turned it off like a lightbulb.
Now that's progress.
Honestly, I was stronger than ...
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