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... s, tearing through flesh like a firestorm. My fingers twisted under the pressure of power, pulsating veins crawling across my palm like etched runes.

With a deep thud, I struck.

Metal groaned. Cracked. Buckled. Second hit—the lock shattered like a crushed egg. With a crunch, the door flung open—and I stepped inside.

He was there.

Sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall. Exhausted, but unbroken. He looked up—and stood.

Muscles tense. Eyes—steady.

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