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... an follow—her body a puppet of divine instinct, moving with no hesitation, no thought, only the command to destroy. Each blow carves rifts in the air, her strikes ripping open seams of pure mana. Her cracked flesh glows faintly, the white light bleeding from inside her like a star burning through paper.

Mhazul meets her with savage joy, every swing of his axes fueled by his monstrous vitality. Sparks and molten shards spray as his weapons grind against her spear, their collision birthing ...

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