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... hen blinked again as her iris glanced upon the sky. Silvery fogs cluttered into each other, one that she clearly recognised as different from Demond, one that is less controlled, more volatile. A scaled dome has surrounded the town to clash against it, yet the dome’s small cracks of frostbite cackled a loud cry, still steady, still will hold, albeit barely, as the fog’s frost pollens gnawed away the dome like a divine beast’s hunger, except there is none of the divinity in its desperation to con ...
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