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... rough the endless tide of death. Each step he took, each flicker of his spiritual field, reduced the nearest undead to clouds of ash and powdered bone. They collapsed in pieces—tens, hundreds, thousands—erased in the blink of an eye, their fragmented remains scattering into the wind.

Yet it made no difference.

The sea of undead surged endlessly, like waves crashing against a defiant cliff. For every creature he felled, a hundred more took its place—silent, relentless, and unfeeli ...

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