her body was a living tapestry of ritual scars—deep, interlocking whorls etched from her forehead's third-eye sigil down to the callused soles of her bare feet, each line a conduit for pain-magic that fed on screams. Her skin, olive-dark and unyielding, bore the marks like badges of ecstasy, inked with alchemical threads that shimmered crimson in the atmosphere's glow. Aoi's specialization was ...
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