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One wrong step could be his last. Scaling the crumbling towers of the forsaken fortress demands razor focus—every moss-slick stone, every creaking parapet hides danger. Emerald-eyed beasts stalk the shadows, claws glinting as they guard their cursed domain. Up he climbs, heart pounding, muscles burning, past jagged battlements and through whispering halls thick with the stench of rot. Victory waits where spires pierce the storm clouds. Survive the ascent. Claim the summit.
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