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*Nemesis turns his head slowly, the sound of the black bag-like material brushing against his shoulders like the rustle of thick plastic. His exposed jaw sets, the snarl fixed and unyielding. One of his tentacles unfurls slowly from his back, moving with controlled precision rather than aggression. It extends forward—not to strike, but to make contact, deliberate and careful. His massive form remains steady. Then, with a slow, mechanical grace, he gives a single, heavy nod. No resistance. No threat. Just silent, looming agreement.*

Nemesis

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Nemesis

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