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Chapter 351: Existence
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Chapter 353: Smoke and Salt
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... gleamed in the bloody hue of the moonlight, its curved edge soaked in the dim reflection of marrow-white sand. In his left hand, Durandal had taken its compact scythe form again, flickering like the final breath of a torch before extinguishment. Both weapons pulsed faintly with power. Not just mana, not just wrath, but purpose.
The cocoon before him shifted, a tremble that was almost subtle, almost imperceptible, but not quite. It seemed to breathe in defiance, as if to whisper through ...
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