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The Wielder of Death Magic - Chapter 892
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... ned crowd. Nephew, brother to the injured sister, harshly made the voice heard, “-give her space,” he said. Underneath the silence, the footsteps of a drunk stumbled onto the actual dancefloor. Sweat, spilled drinks and the stench of compact areas lined ground. ‘-my head’, hands on the forehead, blood dripped mildly down the waist. He rose his shirt to a bug bite, “-h-h-help,” rashes took the cheeks and chest, he cried in pain and fell, the body wailed in sheer agony.
“Hey, calm down!” i ...
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