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... ward.
The bronze censer in his hand fell to the ground with a crack.
Before him, a scarlet mist was pouring out from the mouth of the mechanical "angel" relief that he had designed himself, its exquisitely carved wings, embodying the cold, sharp beauty unique to machinery, now fluttered like bloodstained raven wings.
He could no longer distinguish reality from hallucination.
He didn’t know where he wore or what he was supposed to do.
He only remembered tha ...
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