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They both turn quiet, while Zamira shuts her eyes closed and tries calling for his brother telepathically. She looks so awry for a while, before her awry face slowly wears down.

On the other hand, in a certain underground gallery, one ancient apparition named Almas Khalfmazhon, is hovering right in front of a certain statue, while ignoring his two brothers.

“It’s okay. He is already with Miarnin at the moment!” He mutters to himself in Nimeza language.

“Hm? Who are you talking to?” asks Dastan, another one of the four ancient apparitions.

It could be said that this one old man, Dastan Khalfmazhon, him and his forbidden magic, was the reason these ancient apparitions are still lingering around in this world despite the fact that they have long died.

“It’s Zamira,” replies Almas. “She is worried about that young man.”

“It’s not like her worrying about someone,” mutters Dastan to himself, looking curious.

“He could be our last hope,” says Cresta. “The number of people who inherit our fat
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