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one hundred and eighty seven

Dante’s POV

A surge of adrenaline shot through me. This was our moment, our cue to strike. With a swift signal to my men, we pounced on the witches. Their faces twisted in surprise and confusion, a stark contrast to their usual air of confidence. They never saw it coming, never anticipated our ambush. The tables had turned, and it was our turn to seize control of the situation.

As we advanced, the clash of swords and powers filled the air with tension. Spells and curses flew amidst the chaos, a cacophony of magic and might. I could feel the weight of responsibility pressing down on me, urging me forward, urging me to fight with all I had. Every move, every strike, was fueled by a potent mix of loyalty and defiance.

As I watched my men engage in combat, a surge of pride welled up within me. The witches' powers proved no match for our united strength. The shimmering bracelet seemed to be working its magic, enhancing our abilities in the heat of battle. Yet, amidst the chaos, my focus sh
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