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... call me that." The voice replied, low and oddly resonant.

The figure in the dark shifted; the neon-blue numerals on the hood pulsed again as it regarded them, one by one.

"Interesting," 500 said. The syllables rolled like distant thunder.

"You are not a Dragonion, yet dragon-blood stirs in your veins." Its eyes—if they could be called that—glimmered when they settled on Tyler. Then it turned to Myrtle. "You have turtle-blood. You wear human skin as a mask."

"And ...

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