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... s, the wriggling, running, flying monsters.
The companions around him began to fall down one by one, their wings flying in all directions, like a mourning elegy.
[You're right, Ansel. 】Before he died, a young angel grabbed his hand tightly, shedding tears of remorse, 【You are right, the troops we sent are simply not enough, we are just here to die... 】
What can Ansair say?
Under death, there is nothing. The resentment in the past, the grievances in the past, a ...
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