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... ection disc casting subtle gold across her face. The feed hovered above the obsidian altar, tuned directly to Zone Eight—where two figures now stood, tension curling in the air like storm clouds before a downpour.

One of them: Reynald Vale.

The boy the people once called hero.

And the other—

Lucavion.

No fanfare. No dramatic pose. He stood as he always did—still, poised, unbothered.

The confrontation began with no grand declarations. Just silence. ...

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