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... ny she had killed.

She didn’t care.

The knife in her grip dripped with warm blood, its handle sticky against her palm. Her mask that was once pristine white was now stained in splashes of crimson.

It should’ve been heavy.

The weight of her actions.

The lives she had taken.

But instead—

She felt light.

So light.

Every time she tore through flesh, every time she ended a life, she felt something something inside her uncoil

...

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