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... ely had time to lift its club before Armand’s fist slammed into its ribs, collapsing its chest with a sickening crunch. It didn’t even cry out before it was hurled backward, crashing against a stone outcropping like a puppet with its strings cut.

Armand stepped forward, eyes narrowed, blood dripping from his gauntlets. His bare chest, always proudly displayed, was covered only by a runic harness offering minimal protection. As usual, he looked pleased. All around him lay the broken bodie ...

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***