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... aside. As he was usually taciturn, he couldn’t even form a mood.
"Angel... Mona, do we need to keep prisoners for interrogation?"
"No need, I never leave any survivors," Mona’s eyes were cold, her memories filled with a sea of blood.
Smedley was burnt to a crisp by the Holy Flame; after the stench of the venom dissipated, the surface turned golden yellow, and the air filled with a rich aroma of meat.
Wayne’s index finger twitched. The Holy Flame roasted the devil ...
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