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... gh the tangled arteries of Valemir's backstreets, a ghost woven from desperation and dwindling magic. Each ragged gasp tore at his lungs, a burning reminder of the wound blossoming on his side, soaking his rich crimson cloak in a deepening stain that felt colder than the pre-dawn air.

His body, a fragile vessel of bone and strained sinew, screamed in protest with every jarring impact of his boots on the cobblestones. The high-tier scroll artifact, a relic of impossible power that had war ...

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