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                                        Chapter 279: God
                                
                                                                                        
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                                        Chapter 281: Deacon
                                
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... broken rings of chanting worlds—the cathedral moved.
Not with grace. Not with sound.
It simply existed in a way that made space tilt around it. Reality bent, not because it wanted to, but because it had no choice.
Like an old servant who had bowed so many times, it no longer remembered how to stand.
The cathedral wasn’t built. It had grown. Its shape wasn’t planned. It was felt. And it hadn’t stopped growing.
Columns wider than canyon mouths reached upward ...
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