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The massive tear in reality that Alvian had watched form was no longer a void of swirling chaos. It had become a wound in the fabric of the dimension, and from that wound, a thick, viscous substance began to fall. It wasn’t water, and it wasn’t ordinary blood. It was a concentrated slurry of ancient mana and biological waste expelled from the dimension of the Draconic Legion—a dimension that had been sealed for a millennium, festering in its own power.
It fell into the ocean like in ...
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