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... ning quickly. Claude was right behind him. Suddenly, Monet stopped, his face full of shock. "Duerer... is dead!"
Black mist seeped out from the rock wall and formed into a ball, then merged into Monet’s palm.
"Don’t let Golden Sand City become a graveyard." Duerer’s voice echoed in his mind.
Monet clenched his fist. His twelve wings spread wide.
Two balls of black mist formed into two blue and dark marks.
In the depths of Monet’s eyes, two Battle Stylerune ...
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