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... od atop the Divine Throne.
The figure wasn’t as burly and holy as the bards had described; it resembled more a mummified corpse, skin clinging to bones, sunken eye sockets oozing heart-stopping blood.
"God of Blood, you... are dying." She declared, her hand already gripping the long knife, ready to counter any moment.
Yet, such blasphemy was met with no response from the God of Blood, as if it had truly died.
And it was at this instant that Mist realized something ...
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