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... armory, her eyes immediately locking onto one of the rifles resting on a nearby rack. She reached out and grabbed the weapon, its weight familiar yet foreign in her hands. The rifle was cold to the touch, made of metal she couldn't immediately identify.

With a deliberate movement, Valeria placed the tip of her fingers on the muzzle. Dark tendrils of energy began to seep from her fingertips, snaking around the barrel and spreading across the entire rifle. The tendrils crept over the weap ...

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