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... raw stump where his right arm used to be. Blood pulsed from the wound, splattering onto the wooden deck. His breathing came in ragged, uneven gasps as he yanked off the blood-soaked bandages wrapped around his mouth, spitting out another mouthful of crimson. Even in his state he was still glaring at me.
Around us, the Utopian Knights froze, their attention snapping toward me. Their hands instinctively went to their weapons, but hesitation flickered in their eyes.
I didn’t spare ...
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