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... st suffocating. To a zombie’s senses, it was downright offensive—nothing like the rich, pungent aroma of rot and blood.
"Yeah... this place definitely needs a cleanse," Ethan muttered under his breath, his voice low and cold.
Ever since he stepped into the Mercenary Inn, he’d felt eyes on him. A lot of them. Clearly, the illusion of Dane Walker wasn’t just convincing—it was familiar. This guy had a reputation around here.
People were whispering, casting glances his way. S ...
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