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... yet you keep standing against me," Asmodeus muttered, his voice low and grim, like thunder in the distance.
He raised his black trident, its three jagged tips glowing with a deep, molten red as if forged from hatred itself.
"But I’m done with the pretense. Let’s end this here."
Sam didn’t respond. He simply stared.
He was used to analyzing his opponents the moment he stepped onto the battlefield, and Asmodeus was no different.
The [Forsaken Lord] stood ta ...
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