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In the Great Hall, Masters and Servants gathered, a grave silence bouncing off them unnaturally.
On one side, Medea was looming over Black, lying on a sofa.
Despite his instant regeneration, the wound dealt by The Shadow showed no signs of healing. Now, as he lay there half naked on the sofa, a blackness was crawling out of the hand-sized scar on his stomach.
Every time Medea cast a healing spell, trying to purify the wound and eliminate the curse, Black’s body j ...
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