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... plain before me, and fresh, crisp air in my lungs.

Except the breeze is in fact filled with smoke, ash and death, the wide open plain is in fact choked with demon monsters in a fighting frenzy, and I don't have lungs.

Who needs 'em, anyway?! What have lungs ever done for anyone?

Even the friends aren't quite "by my side" so much as "running rampant smashing everything they see, clinging to my carapace and greedily blasting things with green lasers."

At least Al is ...

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