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Chapter 280: THE WHITE NOISE
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Chapter 282: THE HIERARCHY OF SURVIVAL
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... carriage didn’t smell like ozone or burning mana anymore. It smelled of wet fur, stale blood, and the piercing, chemical stench of fear.
The Snow Stalker landed on the floorboards with a heavy, wet thud, its claws carving deep gouges into the expensive mahogany. It was a nightmare of pale muscle and tension, its eyeless head twitching violently as it triangulated the frantic heartbeats surrounding it.
"Leon, move!" I shouted.
The command was physical, not magical. With ...
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