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Chapter 28: Echoes in the Dark
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... and unyielding under my scraped knuckles, the stone biting into my skin with every brush. My tank top was a shredded mess, the frayed edges catching on every protrusion, exposing the steel-like flesh beneath—scratched, dulled, holding at a fragile 12% integrity, my system’s faint whisper a constant reminder of how close I was to breaking.
The air was cold, sharp with the tang of damp rock and something sour, like decay left to fester, clinging to the back of my throat with every ragged ...
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