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... asterpiece in your hands!"
The Sartre lord entwined with blue fire looked at Black who was stroking and beating on the wall, he sneered, and the rhythm was not interrupted by the "performance art" of the pirates.
Surrounded by a group of powerful younger brothers, it scolded coldly:
"That's my treasure, it's a masterpiece I made with my own hands. A dirty mortal like you has no right to hold it, or even touch it!"
"Yo, Lord Savaryk came to 'collect debts' i ...
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