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... torm above churning with an almost malevolent energy. The rain hammered down in relentless torrents, turning the smooth arena floor into a glistening, treacherous surface. Lightning flashed, illuminating the combatants’ forms.

Joryk’s towering, armored figure stood resolute with his nine-layered cultivation halo glowing above his head. The liquid metal mana of his [Fortress] shimmered and rippled like quicksilver, ready to solidify into a shell at Lassim’s first move. His arms were cross ...

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