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09 | The Girl With Scythes

Two weeks later.

Darkness had imprisoned Umbravale in the shadows of fear for too long. As dawn approached, the city felt frigid, echoes of claws on walls and roofs, accompanied by the sounds of children's fearful moans. Valorthorn's cruelty took on new forms in maintaining their newfound city.

A figure cloaked in black ran swiftly through the cobblestone streets. His raven-blue hair gleamed under the moonlight. Portraits of his face adorned posters distributed throughout the land of Valorthorn, yet no Umbravale resident dared to venture out at night, never discovering his presence in the city.

From various directions, the dead souls began to pursue him like piranhas. The figure unsheathed a gleaming sword in the darkness, creating distance to assess his adversaries. As the dead souls swiftly attacked, he swung his sword, slicing through two at once. A chilling aura erupted from the fallen, sending shivers down his spine. However, he started to relish the sensation.

Moving forward, he
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