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Chapter 476: Drawing Breath, Again
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Chapter 478: The Red Devil
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... n front of him cracked along a line, and ice rose with a groan as if a buried cathedral were heaving up its nave. The mace came with it, shouldering free of the white in a slow, disdainful ascent that set frost smoking off its iron. The haft was buried deep; the head breached last, studded and cruel, a black star with a thousand broken points. Even half-sheathed in snow it towered over him like a keep.
Ludwig stared up until the wind watered his eyes. "Ah," he said faintly, memory return ...
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