### 47

As you strike the fatal blow, the Chaos-master vents a shriek loud enough to wake the dead. His great body stiffens and his skin writhes and shimmers, making it impossible to discern any detail. Then he fades until all that remains to record his existence is the lingering smell of his spilt blood.

Turn to 232.

Text copyright © 1987 Joe Dever.
Illustrations copyright © 1987 Brian Williams.