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... acle of Rust

The underground tunnels stretched endlessly before them, dimly lit by bioluminescent mushrooms and flickering torches placed at odd intervals. The air was thick with dampness, carrying the scent of ancient decay and something metallic—rust, perhaps, as the Oracle’s name suggested.

Mallory led the group forward, clutching the key tightly in her hand. It pulsed with an almost imperceptible warmth, as if reacting to their progress.

Behind her, Greg was still mut ...

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