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... on, appearing a bit exhausted from the little work of art he had been performing.
He raised a hand to his face and briefly wiped off the stains of blood that were already drying over his skin, flaking slightly with the motion.
He was stained with blood all over, but none of it was his own. He was tired—not from battle, but from dealing with... a few loose ends.
Oliver’s empty gaze drifted toward the group of Players—the same group that had once chased him down. Now, they ...
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