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... Azazel stood alone in a sealed chamber lit only by the pale glow of enchanted runes lining the walls. Ancient tomes floated in a suspended circle around him, pages flipping on their own, murmuring with forbidden knowledge. These weren't just records—they were living memories, recordings of history even the Angels feared to remember.

And all of them now whispered one name.

"The Silver Fang of the Void."

He ran a hand through his wild blond hair, exhaling ...

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