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... dow of old slid across the ashen ground like the foretelling of destruction.
A scaled arm stretched, the skeleton within sight, another boost in the air, another wind’s howl.
A tug. Adrei grasped the armour’s neck, before bumping it to the ground, the slight thud kicking up bits of grey sands.
The Undead writhed uncontrollably, its helmet digging into the sand as if to burrow a cave for an escape—still no reddened glares.
"No malice for an Undead is the first for ...
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