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... , too clean, too perfect. The whole place felt sterile, like a world designed for gods but inhabited by monsters.
The air was crisp and dry, carrying a faint metallic tang—like the scent of blood long since scrubbed clean.
A long table stretched through the center of the chamber, the surface polished enough to see your own expression—though none of the people sitting around it cared to look at themselves.
At the head of the table sat Kenjiku, founder and ...
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