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... r, wings flaring wide now—not the feathery ones he used to wear, but raw, jagged arcs of crimson flame, cracked and twitching like they were alive. He spun around Nezha as the null-beam passed beneath them, erasing space like it never mattered. For a second, neither of them said anything.

Because what could you even say?

The gods had gone quiet. Not because they’d won.

Because even they were watching now. Hesitating.

Above them, Zathrith the Bound Leviathan shrank ...

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