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... ough his mind. At the same time, thick, oily liquid—putrid and black—began oozing from every opening in his head: his ears, mouth, nose, and even his eyes.
The slime clung to his skin, sticky and revolting, reeking of rotting corpses. Clayton squirmed, but his body was paralyzed—unable to move. He was trapped in pure agony.
Gemma, seeing her master in such a horrific state, panicked. She wanted to rush to him but hesitated, fearing that interference might make things worse.
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