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... all the way to the crumbling temple steps.
It gleamed under the broken moonlight, thick with the stench of death and magic. Corpses floated in it—both monsters and men—lifeless and forgotten.
At the center of the carnage stood Emperor Fenrir.
Blood dripped from his fingers. His robes, once white, were soaked black with it. Around him, the ground pulsed with a heavy, sickening mana.
No living thing dared step closer.
After all, life was a precious resource ...
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