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Time inside this warped, broken space had no reliable measure. Days bled into nights, nights bled into sweat-drenched work, and the boundaries of "before" and "after" blurred until all that remained was now — and June owned the now.
The masters? Dead.
Their fortress burned, their bodies shattered, their magic bled dry and consumed.
June had torn through them not as some noble liberator, not as some rising hero, but as a force — arrogant, furious, unrepentant.
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