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... ments hardened like stone, then shattered and scattered in the wind. Only black glass-like shards remained in the palm.

The mark of a god, a blessing, a bestowed power.

“The heart of an apostle…”

It seemed too pitiful to be called that.

Jaganata could not possibly consider this the essence of an apostle.

Had it not been for the lord’s revelation, there would have been no need to kill a fellow believer, and these mere glass shards would have held no value. ...

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