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... ore and Devotion
The Ker’min lay dead, neck bent like snapped rebar, limbs twitching from residual psionic feedback. I didn’t savor the kill — not because it wasn’t satisfying, but because there was still too much to do. Still too many moving parts. Still too many of us.
My trap had worked. The breach yawned like a second mouth in the battlefield’s throat, and through it poured the swarm — radiant, ravenous, synchronized with a kind of brutal harmony no army born of flesh and ego ...
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