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"What's the matter, Griswold? Where did all that confidence go?" Osborne taunted, his mocking voice carrying across the battlefield.

Silas remained silent, his eyes calculating. 'If these clones are the exact copies of him and can create more clones, then…'

Without wasting another moment, Silas summoned his Grade 5 Soul Reaper Scythe, its dark, ominous blade crackling with energy.

Osborne barked out a command, his clones springing into action. "Attack, soldiers! B ...

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