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The Wielder of Death Magic - Chapter 822
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... gna found himself leaning over the pale-faced lad, breaking the curse somehow triggered another set of events. Tiny fingers on which green-veins layered upon the flesh, slowly anticipated the growing terror, the limbs reflexively breathed by tensing and relaxing. Before long, sweat from the forehead dribbled into mixing with the tears – the droplets fell heartily onto the joke of a pillow, by which was blankets stacked on one another.
“Igna?”
“Calm down,” he said, “-let me have a ...
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