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... stilled.

The wind shifted, no longer carrying the sharp bite of blood and magic. Instead, it moved gently across the ruined plain—cool, calm, and oddly comforting. It carried something else too. A presence. Old. Heavy. Divine.

Then, the massive form of Fenrir stirred.

His breathing deepened. Muscles relaxed. The silver fur that had once been matted with blood now shimmered clean under the sunlight, as if the divine elixir had washed away more than just madness.

H ...

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