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... > "THE BLOOD—!"
"IT’S MINE!"
The summit turned into a slaughterhouse of the soul. As soon as Drakovitch gave the command, the thin mask of their "White-Scum" nobility shattered. One hundred and forty three teenagers, once poised and refined, devolved into a pack of starving ghouls.
They no longer sounded human. The air filled with a cacophony of wet slaps, frantic scratching, and guttural snarls as they clawed over one another, desperate to reach the waterfall of glowing, ...
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