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... lence the moment Dayat's solar plexus was pierced by that cold, blinding white shaft of light.
The visual feed before her—the blood-soaked slopes of Lamping Hill, the arrogant Sun-Crown knights, and the silver dust from the shattered Silver Thorn—suddenly began to fracture. These particles of reality fragmented into small, flickering binary squares. The vibrant green of the grass bled into a deep, bruised purple, and the muffled roar of General Haelir's victory cry distorted into a long ...
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