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... es, the afterglow blooms at the fingertips, transforming into a long and pure golden thread.
As the light ebbed like a tide, the scenery of the chapel faded away, replaced by familiar street views unfolding before the Hero.
"...Is this where you were born?"
A frosted voice came from beside him, carrying inherent arrogance.
"Yes, it’s a place with many memories."
The Hero turned to look. What caught his eye was a short-haired, red-eyed woman. She took off h ...
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