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... olden light, pure like a newborn’s first cries that birth a fairy.

He hovered there, suspended in brilliance, while the arena trembled beneath the weight of what was about to unfold.

The opponent, mechanical and calculating, stared with flickering eyes and humming processors, staring at him with its deep red eyes, the processing units still analysing the things that were happening around the arena.

On one side was the young man with the wings of light, a halo on his head, ...

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