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Death Smith
(OsiriumWrites) Death Smith - I - Chapter 0 (Prologue)

(OsiriumWrites) Death Smith - I - Chapter 0 (Prologue)

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BLOOD KNIFE

DEATH SMITH BOOK 1

Prologue

[You have finished forging an item]

[You have combined and retrieved an item]

While life outside went on as normal, within flat 23-B, there lingered an uncomfortable silence that was only broken by the dripping of water from a nearby faucet.

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Two figures were sitting on the couch next to one another, where mere moments ago there had been only one. Of the two, one was heavily injured. A mixture of dried-up blood and dirt covered most of his left side. Torn clothes stuck to his bloody skin. Next to him sat another male, unmoving and with an unnatural gray- ness to his features. The pale figure sat perfectly still and stared in front of him with a thousand-yard stare like a mannequin or a corpse might do.

The wounded man flicked open the lighter and produced a small flame, gazing into it for a moment before lighting a cigarette. After bringing it to his mouth, he inhaled deeply before placing it between the lips of the pale figure, securing it in place.

“There we go,” the wounded man said, groaning as he leaned back into his couch with his eyes aimed upwards. He stared at the ceiling as if that might hold answers to whatever he was feeling at that moment. A few minutes passed like that, still and silent, the occasional bit of ash falling off the cigarette and piling up in a single spot. The ash was identical in color to the pale figure’s unnatural gray skin.

“You know smoking is going to get you killed one day,” the wounded man said, forcing his gaze away from the ceiling and towards his companion. He noticed the cigarette was barely in place, trapped between unmoving lips. The sight might have looked funny, if not for the strange complexion of his companion and the fact that he had created it.

Instead, only anger lingered that evening. A type of silent and unstable anger that might undo a person if one wasn’t careful. The man’s hands turned white from clenching his fist so firmly despite his injuries, as he swore an oath right there while looking at his pale companion.

“No matter what, I’ll get justice for you.”

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