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... g hard. Chest heaving. His body screamed to run, every instinct clawing at his nerves, telling him to go, to abandon reason, to abandon everything.

But he didn’t.

His legs were locked in place, not by courage, but by the sheer gravity of fear.

The Nightmare didn’t roar.

It didn’t shriek.

It existed, and that was worse.

Reality bent around it as if the world tried to forget it was there. Its limbs unfolded with slow, twitching malice. Its slit of a ...

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