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... rict, Upper Northreach. 01:30 AM.
The air inside the basement of one of the Upper District’s logistics warehouses was stagnant, heavy with the scent of damp stone and the metallic tang of static electricity. Light was a luxury provided only by a single, flickering chandelier that swayed rhythmically, casting long, grotesque shadows that danced across the weeping stone walls. At the center of this cold sanctuary, a man named Bahlil was bound tightly to an iron chair, his limbs secured by ...
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