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... was heavy, pressing down on the spectators like the ocean depth itself. The carcass of the Magma-Shell Behemoth, flipped and gutted by Valeria, lay as a smoking testament to the strength of the Void Sanctum. The Draconic Legion, previously disciplined and arrogant, shifted uneasily. Their siege breaker had been humiliated.
On the Obsidian Throne, Dragon King Apollyon did not rage. He did not scream. He simply tapped a clawed finger against the armrest of his floating chair. The rhythmic ...
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