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Chapter 125: Death Crawler Whistle (3)
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... h. My thoughts scatter like sparks in a forge, each one burning for an instant before vanishing. The nearby clock tower strikes, its hands marking what little time remains—less than an hour before the assassination begins.
Blood rushes to my head, filling it until my temples throb. My fingertips ache, the pits of my nails biting into my palms as I clench my fists, leaving white marks, only to be flushed by green and orange away.
“We need someone to volunteer.”
The words f ...
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