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... e felt different. Colder, still, with a faint, bitter smell of the leftover stink from whatever made this monster on the throne. Edward Vistro stepped inside, his boots leaving dark, wet marks on the stone. He looked like a walking nightmare. His clothes were covered in goblin blood, and the grey stuff of his body was peeling off like a snake shedding, showing skin that was healthy in a scary way.
The rusty blade he’d used to kill eight hundred goblins broke in his hand. It snapped again ...
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