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... he room was palpable, emanating from specific individuals with such intensity it pressed against his skin.
While the Sword Saint bore his trademark smile, Vanitas knew that smile was anything but kind. It was the kind of smile one wore before drawing a blade.
And then there was the man beside him, who didn’t even bother hiding his disdain.
Vanitas didn’t need to ask who he was.
Hughes Bolton, the Divine Archer.
The contempt in his eyes said everything. Van ...
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