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Chapter 88: Blood of the offering
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Chapter 90: My Fault
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... al transformed into something far more disturbing. There was no mourning. No reverence. Only hunger... and madness.
The native warriors surged forward like a tide unleashed, no longer chanting, no longer dancing. Their faces twisted with primal desire, driven by something ancient and dark—beyond even ritual. It was a frenzy.
One man, painted head to toe in red and white stripes, grabbed the woman’s arm and with a stone hatchet hacked it free in a single brutal swing. Bone cracked ...
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