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Chapter 13: Predicament
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Chapter 15:The Hunt
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... over the fallen bodies of the three acolytes, with two already dead. The last one—the one-horned acolyte—choked on his breath, his face pale, with black blood oozing from his eyes, nose, and mouth.
"Y...ou tr...aitor," he strained, spilling black blood onto Xaphxan’s boots as the latter looked down at the dying man.
Pulling out the curved machete, he said menacingly, his tone completely different from his usual docile one,
"I was never one of you bastards to begin with," ...
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