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... he last wave of shock troopers fell to Aiku’s explosive artistry. Smoke and ozone filled the air, mixing with the scorched scent of melted alloys and burning plastic. The sound of distant sirens and crackling fires rolled across Sector III like a death march.

“Enough theatrics,” Claus muttered, adjusting his glasses as a chunk of concrete clattered nearby. “We need to move. Now.”

Aiku gave a dry chuckle, fanning himself with a single card like he was lounging at a masquerade ball ...

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