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... touched by time, by mercy, by regret. His armor gleamed like polished bone, layered with protection slaves—enchantments stolen from dying relics , screaming as they flickered across the surface. His crimson eyes locked onto them with the calm calculation of a predator who had already eaten.

The sword in his hand wasn’t just a blade—it was a statement. Thin, curved slightly, but etched with imperial runes that pulsed with breathless energy. A weapon that didn’t reflect light but consumed ...

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