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| Xeios smiled, slowly levitated to the ground. And bowed low. Unpon touching the chains, they repaired and became wrapped around his forearms. The spikes turned outward, away from his skin, and he found that they could be shot off of his arms with little energy.
"Good work, Demitillian, you have done well. My puipil."
Xeios drew a card. An ordinary card. The Ace of Spades. The card set aflame, and fell to the ground where Demitillian was. Xeios replaced his sunglasses, turned, and walked away, slowly being carried away on the wind, he became a mist, and relatively disappeared. The burning card remained, in place of the chapel. And the flame extingushed. An appropriate funeral for a warrior.
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