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... ts claws blurring through the air, striking with a force that could have shattered stone.

But Argolaith was faster.

Stronger.

His footwork was flawless, weaving between its attacks, his sword carving through tendons, joints, weak points.

Each strike—erasing.

Each wound—permanent.

The Hollowed could not heal.

And that was why it was afraid.

It roared, the sound shaking the battlefield.

The Hollowed horde trembled.

Mal ...

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