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... indifferent; it seemed to mock the frailty of existence. Veythor's body lay sprawled on the blood-soaked earth, his crimson lifeblood merging with the rain, carried away in delicate streams. The scene was eerily still, however, interrupted only by the relentless patter of water. Although it was a moment of silence, the air felt heavy with unspoken grief. This stark juxtaposition of life and death lingered, like a haunting melody echoing in the distance.

No one lives forever.

Yet ...

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