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... his throat, his delicate form jolting as something cold and metallic slid through his body.
There it was.
A silver blade, slick with his own blood, protruding from his small, lithe torso.
The wound gaped around the impalement, his armor doing little to halt the deep, unforgiving penetration. His delicate, gauntleted fingers trembled as they gingerly brushed the slick metal. The warmth of his own blood seeped through his fingertips.
("A lung—")
His thoughts ...
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