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... en like in all the times when Theo dispersed them in the form of a thick cloud, his nanites took on a slightly gray hue, like a whiff of freshly created smoke.
A smoke that coiled like a snake only to decompress forth and bite into the chest of the leader of the assassins, sinking into his body before the man could as much as twitch.
Tap.
The flat of Theo’s hand pressed against the man’s chest, as if to cover the invisible hole through which his nanites sank into the man’ ...
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