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Chapter 133 - No. One Final Stretch (3)
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Chapter 135 - No. My Crying Angel (1)
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Every remaining vampire corpse—every fragment, every echo—was torn apart at a fundamental level, their residual soul-threads ripped free and fed into the storm.
The soul-maelstrom screamed.
Not with sound.
With identity.
Threads of pale light—countless, layered, ancient—were ripped from every corner of the dungeon and dragged into the vortex surrounding Alucard. The living walls convulsed violently, veins bursting, flesh tearing ...
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