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... tretched far in the distance, statues stood frozen in lifelike poses.

Priam noticed that most of them wore expressions of terror.

A hundred meters ahead, he finally reached the mahogany—or some similarly luxurious alien wood—desk of the Sector leader of the Mercenaries.

If one ignored the flaming wings, metallic skin, towering physique, eyes with golden rings dancing within, and the fluorescent channels tracing his skin, the man looked almost normal. I wonder how much of ...

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