Counteraction's rising. You ready for the punchline? There's no use with all your gimmicks, SO CHECK OUT CHAPTER 35!
Fanfiction.net link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/1032344...along-the-path
Note that I have no previous experience with fanfic, so any feedback is welcome. I have four chapters ready at the moment and have plans for a pretty decent story line. I hope you enjoy this series.
Chapter 1: The Experiment.
The ritual was going well. Xerath felt his frail form transcending into the higher power he had wanted, and needed, to continue his venture into further arcane understanding. The raw magic revitalized his failing body and his face was in awe at the beautiful chaotic sphere of raw energy that was to become his new vessel for all of eternity.
There was a voice calling him. At first, Xerath thought the voice was caused by the souls of the damned that had entered the sphere and were being purified by the sheer magical pressure ridding itself of impurities.
The voice called again. Xerath scanned the surroundings. He caught sight of the damned.
It was Tabia. The mage Xerath had always admired for her skill. The girl he had always loved.
“XERATH! NO! DON’T DO THIS! I BEG OF YOU! PLEASE!” Tabia cried out.
Xerath’s resolve wavered, knowing that if he continued he would never be able to view Tabia the same way he had. The sphere responded with an incredible power spike, forcing Xerath to return and balance the spike before the ritual could go wrong.
There was a way to stop the ritual, but that would involve slowly transferring the energy to another suitable vessel. He had already begun generating the scaffold for the magic to flood his body and be born anew. He knew of little else that could help him disperse the magic safely, no one in the academy had much interest in arcane entropy control mechanisms in the same way he did. The materials were also out of the equation to store the energy, though legends told of the Magus Catenas that could hold it but that was a mere legend that only existed in ancient documents. There was nothing they had now that could contain this energy. The only way now for him was to continue with the ritual.
Tabia was kneeling on the tiled floor, tears flowing without end. She was pleading with the silhouette almost obscured by the blue sun before her. She knew at the back of her mind that Xerath could not stop the ritual quickly. She continued pleading with the figure, wanting it to return to the world, to return to Shurima, to return to her. How she wanted to hold the man’s hand, how she wanted to feel the rise and fall of his chest, how she wanted to hold on to him for eternity.
The monstrous sphere did not want that. It wanted a vessel.
The cacophonous sound of the magic blurred out most of what Tabia was pleading so only a few scant words made their way through to Xerath.
The sphere spasmed as Xerath’s concentration failed for a mere moment. A pressure wave formed, cracking the stone hall and the tiles shattering. Tabia was flung backwards against the far wall, her corpse rebounding and falling to the shards of broken tiles that littered the floor. The walls of the hall could no longer hold the sphere’s influence and collapsed, sending dust into the chamber.
The sphere kept its rough shape, desperately vying for its settlement into this mage that had approached it. The Chaos knew what this mage was doing, and it suited it. No being would deprive it of its prize. Coalesced arcane energy had a peculiar habit of gaining sentience whenever it gained enough power to rid itself of acquiring supplementary energies to keep it going.
It wanted to spread itself across this desert.
It wanted to spread itself across this entire continent.
It wanted to spread itself across all of existence
For it was Chaos, Entropy, Pandemonium or any other word that man could use to describe it.
It cared not.
It had power.
That was all that mattered.
Chapter 2: New senses.
Xerath had seen it all. He quivered and wanted to hurl. He wanted to stop with this stupid attempt at becoming ascendant. He wanted Tabia back.
But he knew he could not.
Xerath’s new found anger only pushed him forward. The pain of the transformation was nothing. He only wanted this done now. He felt his muscles and bones harden and crystallize. His blood turned cold, only to be replaced by a constant surge of electricity. His eyes dried and he could only see darkness now. He could only feel the magic surge around him and transform him. Each moment turned into greater agony and he felt his consciousness begin to slip away.
Have I failed?
Am I about to die?
Was the magic too strong for me?
For a moment, he felt nothingness. No sense from the universe came into him.
Then a massive influx of information rushed into his mind.
He could see again, but not through the same eyes he had moments ago.
He could see as a human could see, but there were new entities humanity could only dream about. Swirling wisps and immaterial winds swirled around where he stood. Such beauty was unable to be explained by even the greatest of men, especially not Xerath. The beauty enthralled him so much that he wished to cry, but he could form none.
Xerath returned his focus back to the material plane, but was only left with the disgust of a ruined academy where his experiment had started. The academy was no more, and even then that was putting it lightly. The sandstone walls that had stood several meters away from him when he had started the ritual had been blown into dust and scattered by the winds. No signs remained of the walls, or the next, nor even the living quarters that had been several hundred meters away. The sandstone floor closest to the experiment had been reduced to molten glass and had been dispersed to such an extent that the floor had sunk an entire meter, forming a glass crater.
Xerath proceeded to look to the heavens and saw the storm that obscured even the Shuriman sun, the only thing lighting the landscape was the constant lightning that struck the landscape below, bathing everything in blue light. Globes of plasma blinked in the twilight, beautiful to all onlookers.
He looked down and glanced at his right arm. He still had control over it, but it was no longer flesh and blood. Instead it was crystalline, the skin turned to blackest obsidian. He still could feel it, but all stimuli felt weak. He could not experience the plasma detonations as the humans did, the heat reducing them to ash and the pressure pulses breaking blood vessels.
His ligaments were no longer there. The only thing connecting his arm to his torso was the cerulean lightning that flowed between the two. The plasma danced back and forth, feeding information to his mind like a synapse.
Xerath’s mind could no longer handle it. He retreated into his mind, desperately trying to deny the very existence of his new body. He had never thought this would happen. He lost control of his new body, only for it to be given a new master.
The Chaos had control now. It could do anything it wished. It wished to spread across existence. It forced the crystal body into motion, floating above the ground on arcane tethers that dragged it across the landscape. It would spread chaos across this land.
Humans would halt it, but not after chaos had been spread across hundreds of kilometers. Its wish had been granted, but not to the extent it wished.
Its control began to loosen over the body as Xerath returned from his self-imprisonment, completely unaware of what he had done while the Chaos had reigned in his stead.
Chapter 3: Incarceration
Xerath returned from his mind only to find his body had been imprisoned in chains of both physical and magical origin.
He saw the Great Seers of Shurima standing over him, each with hard faces and cold eyes. There were others with the same faces but with eyes that burned with sheer hatred. He then realized that they were all focused on him. He could hear screams of hatred from outside of the sandstone hall in which he was housed, those screams laden with sadness and even greater hate. One of the Great Seers lifted and dropped his staff, silencing every scream with the resounding clink of the metal on stone.
“XERATH!” The Great Seer roared,
“I knew that you always were ambitious, but the horror you have unleashed upon this land is greater than any abomination that even the most ancient of Seers would ever have witnessed! You then decided to create another disgusting horror in the very same day! If you have any iota of intelligence left inside that crystal body, then I hope you realize that there is no punishment that has ever been conceived to be able to equal these crimes!”
“But there is one that comes close, or two if you will.” The Seer’s face changed from a barking dog to a cat’s smirk so fluidly that it would send a shiver down Xerath’s old spine.
“The Magus Catenas and the Archa Temporem!” The Seer roared triumphantly.
Xerath’s old eye’s would have widened ten-fold at this declaration. The Time Coffin was one of the most devastating sentences a Mage could be given, as it was similar to being buried alive for the rest of one’s days. The legends of the Magus Catenas were also true it seemed, but why had the Great Seers declared that the artifact had existed and was not simply legend?
The crowd roared with excitement at this declaration. The horror would be sentenced to death with no chance of escape, with his mind wide awake for the entirety of his remaining lifespan all the while having his magic contained to the point where he could not even move a dust particle with his magic.
As the Chains were placed on him, Xerath could feel his magic being drained into the central core of heavy orichalcum. Each of the four chains of the circuit would harbor the magic, and deny any hope of Xerath generating and storing any additional magic. As soon as the first chain was placed and the activation chant done, Xerath’s body was paralyzed. The next chain was placed and the plasma conduits connecting the crystal pieces and his eyes dimmed. The third chain slowed Xerath’s thoughts to a pace of a tortoise. As the final chain was activated, the remainder of the cerulean lightning faded and the white blue flame of his eye sockets faded.
Xerath could no longer sense anything coming from outside.
He would be trapped in his own mind for the remainder of his life.
But his life was far, far longer than the most ancient of Great Seers could even imagine as well.
Chapter 4: The return from Limbo
After a period Xerath had long since given up on counting, the first sense that came back to Xerath was his sight. The Coffin was dimly lit from his rekindling blue eye sockets. This sight brought joy to Xerath, the first joy he had experienced in many lifetimes. He tried to move his sight but without success.
The Chains still held him with an iron grip, at least for the moment. The energies he did have were pitiful, but he supposed that there might be power in his remaining parts. This energy would take time to unbind, but if he had lived for generations and his form showed no real sign of decay, the generations needed to reach his remaining parts would come and go. He had no other problems to solve after his mind had been shut inside itself. He might just as well focus on the thing he could do now. And that was to set himself free of this Coffin and return to the wondrous outside world in all of its chaos and disorder. Such things had always interested him.
Progress was slow, but slowly he began to unbind his magic that remained in the rest of his structure. With every small instance of magic returning to him, his strength returned. Each instance of the magic gave him more to work with. He slowly began to understand how the Chains worked. They worked on the premise of magical absorption and storage, and the Chains’ thirst for magic was truly voracious.
As he was heavily limited in terms of practical experiments that he could perform, so calculations were the only thing he could rely on. Xerath plotted out incredible diagrams inside his mind that were constantly scrapped and reformed. He needed to get out of this prison and any thoughts that would stop him otherwise angered Xerath greatly, occasionally spending entire weeks calming him from such anger.
But these ideas would not stop! WHY WOULD THEY NOT STOP! I AM NO CAGED BIRD AFRAID OF THE OUTSIDE WORLD! I WISH TO SEE IT AGAIN THROUGH MY OWN SENSES! NOT OF PAST MEMORIES! I WANT TO SEE IT NOW!
After several centuries, the Archa Temporem’s barrier to the outside world had lost a significant portion of its energy. By this time, Xerath had regained major motor functions and had good understanding of the Chains’ mechanisms.
Finally, after so many millennia, Xerath would be able to sense the outside world.
Something was happening on the surface world that rang into him even in the Coffin.
Monstrously large pulses of arcane magic were detonating in the distance. They rang into his crystalline form, spreading messages of doom and death from the souls they had reaped. Xerath quivered at the notions of these energies. But these energies only kept coming, slowly decaying the Coffin over the decades that came and went like all other decades had before them.
The Coffin would no longer be able to hold him in this prison. He sent out a message that would hopefully be heard. The audience he sensed was warm and welcoming, but there was something about it all that he questioned. They were all pleading to rid them of oppression.
He had never wished to be a Liberator. He had always been a mage and scholar before all else. Politics had never interested him, especially opposition of it. He had not been taught about political views as the ruling committee of the Great Seers had deemed it unnecessary for the non-elite to be given influence, or any knowledge at all for that matter, about political climates and government operations.
But if they wished for this so badly that they would request a resurrecting monster for help, then he would do so. If this were to not disrupt his being, then he would just have to get the episode of politics over and done with.
Fine, he thought. He would still need to get out of this prison before anything else.
He began to gather the energy from the Chains. His obsidian body surged with celestial blue energies almost blinding Xerath with the light. It reminded him of the Sun of the surface world, its guiding yet blinding light reminding him of times past before his ascension of the rolling wheat fields of his birthplace, the ancient olive trees housed within the Academy and the clay tiles that ancient Shurimans adored in their architecture. He then thought of the destruction he had wrought with his own hands. The academy had been destroyed, so the clay tiles and the ancient olive trees had been reduced to ash and dust by now. The fields of his birth would not have survived either for that matter. He had lived too long. His thoughts returned to Tabia for the first time in his almost eternal imprisonment.
She was gone. He would never be able to return to her. He knew this and had gotten over the pain long ago, but it still hindered him to this day. There is no point hanging onto it, he thought, I need to move forward. He wished to be able to go into the light.
How he wished to move again.
How he wished to feel the magical winds pass over him, with each one bringing such amazing new feelings of differing magics.
How he wished to seek new exciting information from the outside world.
No, I do not wish for these things. I demand them be given to me. I demand the power of motion. I demand the power of knowledge. It shall all be mine.
Through his anger and will he began generating a ball of lightning, something he had always used in his academy days when he was forced to spar with others. Lightning had always had an amazing presence in his mind. He had always considered it entertaining how lightning crackled across all surfaces and could leave nothing but dust of even the strongest foe.
This power is mine, one that no one may take from me.
The magical energies started to spark and crackle against the Coffin walls, the ancient wood smoldering and then combusting shortly afterwards, revealing to Xerath a new layer of hard stone. The first new sight he had seen in millennia. A smile would have come across his face, provided he could have made one.
The very air itself burned with incredible ferocity. Small pools of water that had gathered from the stillness of the closed chamber immediately evaporated, turning into hot plumes of steam. The hard stone caked with the heat Xerath had generated.
The sparks crackled against the stone, and then suddenly were dragged inwards into a crackling core of sheer lightning. This core expanded as the energy from the Chains surged into it.
It was time.
The stone chamber was bathed in cerulean light. The stone melted and gave way to a monstrous pulse of celestial power, boring its way through the stone towards the surface world.
Chapter 5: A banquet for fools.
Sivir dug into the bowl of exotic fruits that had been placed before her. On the opposite side of the large table sat Ezreal, his eyes taking in the majestic city of Nalepsis they had been sent to ‘secure Institute interests’.
Several serving girls flowed out from the mansion’s kitchens, adding food to the banquet that lay before the two Champions. Every single girl was ready to please either of the Champions at the table, and they were all more than willing to do whatever it would take to please them.
The serving girls had backed off a bit after Sivir had personally taken care of one of them who had stepped over the line after Ezreal’s declaration of having a girl back in the League. The remains of a small bloodstain on the floor and the girl in the infirmary were indicators that Sivir was a dangerous one to deal with, so all of the girls were scared of her barbaric attitude and demeanor.
A figure stepped out from a door, revealing a man who had been weathered heavily by time wearing a bright purple robe that had incredibly delicate patterns etched into the fabric. The serving girls were dismissed, leaving the man and the two Champions. After several minutes of relative quiet, the man spoke up.
“My Lady, how do you find your meal?” High Seer Baltzin asked, hoping for some reasonable conversation instead of an awkward silence with the only noise being the Mistress’ loud eating.
“Really damn good!” Sivir exclaimed, a small particle of mango flew across the table from her mouth. She then quickly returned to her meal.
Baltzin decided against exposing his disgust at such a brutish and disrespectful behavior. He then asked Ezreal the same question, hoping for a more appropriate response.
“Master Explorer, how do you find your meal?”
Ezreal was not listening. He was looking over at the temple that he had been told about by his superiors.
He had barely even touched his meal, as he had been busy attempting to ward off the serving girls that had plagued him.
“Master Explorer?” Baltzin repeated the question.
“One sec, I know how to deal with him when he is like this.” Sivir said, with a small grin across her face.
She then looked behind her table into the distance, raised her hand as if wanting to greet someone and then said “Oh hey Taric! Didn’t expect to meet you here.”
Ezreal jumped, got his legs caught on the table, falling backwards on his chair. He then proceeded to move under the table for a second, only to finally figure out the cruel joke. Only Sivir was laughing, while Baltzin was visibly seething with rage at such a childish act.
And these were supposed to be Champions of this League of Legends? The thought of these two being significant enough to be requested was laughable. Why do the Summoners hold such respect and praise for these simple fools?
“Seer Baltzin,” Ezreal righted himself “these fruits are incredible! I had no such knowledge that such an arid region such as Shurima would be able to create such amazing produce.”
Perhaps I was wrong, at least one of these fools knows how to converse in a civilized manner.
“Oh yes! Shurima may be a vast desert after that monster caused it,” Baltzin gazed over at the ancient temple in the distance spitefully. “But there are oases in the area that do provide plenty of irrigation to produce all manner of delicacies.”
“Also,” Ezreal quickly added to continue his inquiry into the resurgence of magical energies from the temple, “who are those people down there?” Ezreal pointed at a small crowd nearby the temple, who appeared to be in prayer in sky blue robes.
Ezreal could guess from Baltzin’s expression that the man hated something about them.
“They are the Thunder Disciples, just another group of cultists that I will have to deal with in time. They worship that being of destruction because of some mere dream their leader had of the being’s cry or something, even though that same thing laid waste to all but the most outmost regions of the Shuriman desert. Whatever that thing is now after the centuries of slumber, I know one thing will come out of his reawakening and that will be another catastrophe. Whenever asked about the reality that that thing destroyed Shurima, they talk about how the returning Mage will stop ‘all conflict and rid the world of war, bringing a new era of prosperity that will continue for all eternity.’” Baltzin mocked out their declarations, then returning to his original tone.
“Being the dealer of all religious matters within this Great City of Nalepsis, I’ve seen enough false prophecies to make a new library dedicated to each of them. I expect this one will only be another book in it. However if that monster does awaken, then I shall personally see to it that its death will be unpleasant. He will fall beneath our new arsenal. Centuries have passed and we are prepared to exterminate him from this world. Now if you will excuse me, I must retire for the night.”
With that, Baltzin exited the hall still angry from the thought of that monster. The two Champions returned to their banquet, with Sivir’s drunken ramblings echoing throughout the entire mansion. Ezreal continued staring out into the distance, only picking at his food. He was deep in thought, trying to decipher all of the information that had been given to him.
Baltzin continued down a large corridor and up several flights of stairs. When out of earshot of the ‘Champions’, he ushered his personal Guards to follow him to a large balcony, which overlooked an entire company of the Nalepsian Guard.
I like it.
However, as a Xerath advocate and a lore buff, I cannot help but point out that Xerath isn't actually made of, nor uses lightning (plasma maybe). In actuality he uses raw arcane energy, however the Rioter that did the main work on Xerath was really proficient in electric effects, hence the lightning being his in-game mechanic. I do not mean to be over-analyzing or hypercritical of this aspect, but I cannot help but mull over the technicality, especially since his rework, which will include more accurate effects, is in the not so distant future.
Chapter 6: The thoughts of an Explorer.
Ezreal could not sleep, not after two attempts of serving girls trying to get into his bed. He looked out over the window at the distant temple where the mage was supposed to be sleeping. Plumes of burning incense created a mist of smoke over the worship site, adding to the mystic awe of the dozens of robed Disciples.
Those girls must be really desperate to get down with me, he thought to himself. Some of them had reminded him of Luxanna Crownguard, the Light-Mage and his girlfriend for the most part. She was always incredibly optimistic, had a good sense of humor and was generally a sweet girl. She could also put on a really good show, in the light as well as the dark. He did know a bit about the Crownguard family, in how it was an incredibly prestigious Demacian family that had protected the Demacian throne for many centuries and that all of them had some form of incredible talents. Lux was no exception, her mastery over light magic and her experience in Demacian military exercises proof of that.
Ezreal shook his head, trying to get back onto the matter of these Disciples and their prayer session that had gone far too long into the night.
His armlet, which he used on the Rift as well as when the situation dictated that he should use it in the field, was understandingly irritable. It would always get like this whenever significant magical energies were present. Ezreal knew that this mage was supposed to be incredibly powerful, and had single-handedly reduced Shurima from a fertile and prosperous land to a barren wasteland stricken by immense magical storms in one almighty spell where the effects still reigned even to this day in some regions, but there were few if any archives on what and who this mage actually was. There was one name that did shine out though, Zewrath. This ‘Zewrath’ person was supposedly struck with a magically induced illness that would have turned his body to crystal slowly, but it was said that Zewrath found an opportunity to attune his body to higher magical energies that no human, no matter how skilled, would be able to comprehend. It was suggested once in the records that the operation to completely attune his body had gone wrong and thus the magical radiation from the operation dissipated catastrophically, resulting in raw magic flooding the entire Shuriman region, somewhat reminiscent of the runic weapons used during the Rune Wars. After further research into the records, it was found that the writer had been declared a heretic and had been sentenced to the same imprisonment that Zewrath had endured. The archived page was about two thousand years old.
Ezreal sighed heavily. Maybe his thoughts did waste far too much time after all.
He returned to sleep, wishing hopefully that neither serving girl nor Taric would stop his sleep. He was stopped, but thankfully not by the ones he had listed.
“Ez, wake up. We have trouble.”
“Oh come on Lux, we have time and your damn brother is out on Jarv’s orders isn’t he?”
Ez sleepily opened his eyes looking over to the female figure that stood before him with incredibly large breasts.
Definitely not Lux, Ezreal thought and tried to return to sleep only to be swiftly yanked out of the bed, revealing Sivir in full battle armor.
“Definitely not Lux? You really need to get rid of those sleep talking habits of yours.” Sivir laughed.
“Wait, I said that out loud? And what do you mean by sleep talking habits?”
Sivir stepped back from Ezreal and attempted to mimic him comically, “Oh no Taric! I have been dazzled by your magnificence! I need your healing grace to help me survive now!”
“By the Devs! Where did you hear that!”
“Summoners always have a way of getting ‘private’ information.”
“Anyway, there’s trouble with those Thunder Disciple people, the ones the high seer guy talked about.” Sivir nodded in the direction of the temple.
Ezreal pulled himself up off the floor and turned around to see smoke coming off from the Disciples’ worship area. Small bursts of light from magical energies illuminated the nearby buildings, one of which had been set alight by arcane fire with smoke bellowing from it’s inside.
“What the damn hell is happening!”
“I have no idea.” Sivir said plainly as she looked at the devastation, then returned her gaze to Ezreal. “You want to go and find out?”
“You know I do.”
“Well get some damn clothes on then, I’m heading out soon and I’m not being paid enough for this job to have you in the middle of some battle dressed only in your nightwear.”
Chapter 7: Intervention.
The plaza outside the temple was cast into turmoil as the Council’s forces had struck at the Disciples, sending them into disarray. Those who had retaliated with stones had been turned into pincushions by arrow fire, while fireballs and lightning bolts had wrought havoc on the crowd.
Nrazin, the worship master, had been captured. Most, if not all, of the Disciples had been captured, save for several individuals who had managed to escape.
When there was no possible threat of attack, the High Seer Baltzin appeared.
Baltzin looked upon his brother Nrazin with a grim smile, to which Nrazin responded with an equal smile broken by the blood that dripped from his nose and mouth.
“Hello Brother, I hope the Council has treated you well.” Baltzin’s smile would have sent shivers down the necks of any lesser men.
“The Council has treated me well, for those that are claimed to be heretics.” A small globule of blood welled in Nrazin’s mouth forcing him to spit it out onto the stone pavement.
Baltzin’s smile broke and anger gripped him, kicking Nrazin’s face onto the spit. “Don’t you dare do such barbaric acts in this civilized city, Brother.”
“Necessity requires foolish acts to continue comfort.” Nrazin quickly declared.
“There is no necessity in worshipping that harbinger of doom! You should know what it did to this ENTIRE LAND!” Once again, Baltzin stamped on Nrazin’s head, which was followed with a cry of pain and a stifled scream from one of the captured Disciples.
“Who was that?” Baltzin demanded, his eyes scanning the Disciples for any sign of the perpetrator. His eyes met with a woman with her mouth clasped by a young man. “Bring them here! NOW!” Baltzin bellowed.
The two were dragged before him, with the woman sobbing slowly and the man appearing to be resigning to his end. The two were quickly executed before the Disciples, which were followed by a younger woman openly breaking down.
She was a dragged again before Nrazin for execution.
“BROTHER! DO NOT KILL HER! She is my only family now. I beg of you as siblings, DO NOT KILL MY DAUGHTER!” Nrazin’s tears had streamed out since his wife and son had been picked out. They would not stop.
“You are still my brother, so I shall honor your words. After all, they will be your last. SERGEANT! Pass me a sword so that I may kill this insolent heretic!”
As one of the Council guards was about to pass his own sword, a magical bolt pierced his hand, destroying the scabbard as well as reducing his hand to a cauterized stump. The man roared in agony and fell to the stone pavement screaming.
An immense glaive cut down the two guards that had been dragging the girl forward. The girl was paralyzed with shock, struggling to move away from their corpses.
“High Seer Baltzin! What in the Devs is the meaning of this ridiculous slaughter!” the Prodigal Explorer demanded, his magical armlet poised against the Seer. Sivir caught hold of her glaive as it returned back to her, then remained poised to launch it at any foe that would dare interrupt the two.
“This is a domestic affair, Master Explorer, this is none of your concern.”
“The Mistress and I think otherwise, High Seer. We cannot simply sit by while someone is orchestrating a massacre!”
The tension between the two parties only grew fiercer and fiercer.
All the while a small spark was discharged from one of the bronze incense burners at the entrance of the temple.
Chapter 8 should be coming out tomorrow. I understand that this pace is pretty slow, but my current plan with this fanfic is that I have a pretty good story line set up so stay tuned. Any comments are welcome.
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