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... iolet-tinged moon that loomed behind him like a watchful eye. His coat and shirt hung in tatters, the fabric fluttering weakly before slipping away entirely, revealing his bare torso.

The sight was grotesque and mesmerising—a canvas of flesh convulsing and expanding, his muscles rippling as if they were molten iron being forged into something monstrous.

Then suddenly, a sound could be heard. It was a low, guttural groan, like timber splintering under immense pressure. The sound w ...

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