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Chapter 473: Every second, more strength.
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Chapter 475: The Words of the Wind
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... him transformed into a macabre laboratory.
Vergil didn’t see the seasons pass—for him, only the cycle existed: hunt, kill, feed. Well, there were no seasons in that damned forest, but you get the idea.
The forest floor, already horrific, was now a mosaic of ash and dried blood. As each new beast dared approach, he advanced with surgical precision, tearing out specific pieces, selecting with almost loving care. It was always the best cut, the meat most saturated with demonic essen ...
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