Bound by Shadows and Secrets

Chapter 1

**Title: Marriage Before Love with the Black Panther General**
Juliet Ashwood closed her eyes and then opened them again, realizing she was back in her first life after experiencing the apocalypse. Emotionless, she crushed the wine glass in her hand.
At the matchmaking banquet for the Field Marshal, her overly affectionate younger brother was holding her hand, genuinely urging her to elope.
As recollections of her former life slowly clawed their way back, Juliet recalled that in her first life, she had been an unwitting love-struck fool, manipulated by those around her.
Juliet Ashwood: I'm done. I've lived enough. Let it all end.
Determined to checkmate the green tea-spouting brother and his scummy partner, Juliet Ashwood began to plot her own moves.
In The Empire, psychic abilities were immensely precious. Upon reaching adulthood, individuals underwent a psychic compatibility test, leading to a series of matchmaking events with high-spirited candidates.
Due to an unexpected 100% compatibility rating, Juliet found herself married to The Empire’s Field Marshal.
Her husband was splendidly perfect: calm, composed, rich beyond measure, and capable of quiet slumber in between fitful awakenings. Furthermore, he happened to control a silky-smooth Shadow Beast.
This was the ultimate destination for a slothful achiever.
After marrying Juliet Ashwood: *True happiness.jpg*
However, Juliet couldn't shake the feeling that her dashing Shadow Beast was perhaps too perceptive for his own good.
Even when she was lounging on the settee, wishing for a drink, the handsome leopard would silently bring her a beverage and then, pretending to be oblivious, would lay comfortably beside her.
Wow, this is what high-intelligence beasts are like in the interstellar world.
Absolutely taken with him.
***
The world was well aware that Field Marshal Lord Lucius and his elite battalion were The Empire’s sharpest blade.
However, because of his overwhelming psychic powers, the Field Marshal suffered from persistent psychic disarray, often remaining out of the public eye.
Few knew that the fates of his elite forces often ended in permanent slumber, their consciousness transferring into their psychic entities, ultimately losing their human awareness altogether.
This was a problem even the Healers Guild could not resolve.
One day, however, Lord Lucius suddenly awoke from his calamity of consciousness, only to discover that he was cradled in someone’s arms, having been kissed all over from ear tufts to his paw pads.
To top it off, he recognized the boy—who claimed to be his wife—was none other than the little rogue who’d openly ogled him back then.
***
**At the Banquet**
“Oh no, your hand is hurt!”
“Quick, grab the first aid kit!”
A soft, concerned voice echoed in Juliet Ashwood's ears, but instead of reassurance, it made her heart tighten, snapping her forcefully out of her dream.
Looking down, he saw the shards of glass he held tightly in his palm, crimson blood pooling from the cuts.
This was his hand, slender and pale, unblemished, smooth like that of a pampered young master devoted solely to piano and painting.
It hurt just a bit.
Gradually waking up from her delirium, Juliet Ashwood came to her senses.
“Brother, I heard that the second son of the Senate’s family will also attend. Although you two have been engaged since childhood, I know you’re upset, but you really need to put on a brave face at the Field Marshal's matchmaking banquet.”
The gentle persuasion from the boy in front was undeniably considerate, each word aimed at looking out for his brother.
Engagement, Field Marshal, matchmaking banquet.
Juliet’s unease began to swell.
“Father will scold you again if he sees this. Perhaps you should head upstairs and let the medical device check it, Brother?”
The boy, Quinn Ashwood, cradled Juliet's bleeding hand, wearing a mask of exaggerated concern that felt over-the-top.
“If you want, Brother...” Quinn hesitated, “You know I will do everything I can to help you.”
Juliet Ashwood: “…”
Juliet felt dazed for a moment before reaching out to grip the boy's wrist, gradually applying pressure.
She had returned to the pivotal moment that had guided her fate in her first life.
Indeed, Juliet Ashwood hadn’t just lived once.
In her first life, she was the eldest son of Duke Christopher Ashwood and one of the few with healing powers in The Empire. Yet, she had been nurtured by a scheming stepmother into a clueless romantic, played for a fool by her half-brother. Ultimately, her fate was one of destruction, her reputation irreparably tarnished and her body laid to waste.

Chapter 2

In his second life, Juliet Ashwood awoke with healing powers in a thousand years ago, during the catastrophic time of Blue Star. After years of struggling to survive in this post-apocalyptic world, he transformed from a naive young boy lost in love to a capable survivor with an angelic face and decisive instincts.
Before him stood his younger brother, Quinn Ashwood, the son of the same father but by a different mother. They had grown up side by side, and Quinn had always held a deep respect and closeness toward him.
This was the same brother who, in Juliet’s first life, had orchestrated his downfall, leading him to infamy and a brutal death.
Quinn’s eyes were cast downward, his usually vibrant features appearing subdued, making him seem more docile and, in a way, even more striking.
Juliet blinked in surprise.
Quinn's abnormal reaction sparked a flicker of suspicion in Juliet's mind. Did he somehow know what was about to happen?
“What just happened, brother? Why did you suddenly…” Quinn glanced at the shards of the stained glass goblet scattered on the floor, paused, and ventured, “Why did you crush the goblet so suddenly?”
It was the very goblet Juliet had shattered out of instinct upon his rebirth, a reflex born of unfamiliar surroundings.
Juliet's mind raced, and with a slight huff, he feigned the haughty demeanor of the noble he once was. “I overheard two passing servants saying that Lord Lucius's matchmaking banquet won’t consider lineage but will focus on mental power compatibility. As you know, I’m a member of the Healing Guild; if I’m…” he faltered slightly, “it could lead to trouble.”
“I see.” Quinn lowered his head, concealing a hint of jealousy that flashed in his eyes. Internally, he cursed himself for being foolish but spoke softly, “Lord Lucius has double-S level mental power. High-level healers are coming from the Center of Healing for this event. You’re just a C-level Healing Guild member, brother. There's no way you’d be chosen.”
Citizens of the Empire were born with mental powers, categorized by levels. Level A marked a significant divide, above which were those gifted with higher mental powers—be they exceptional warriors or brilliant minds, they garnered positions in the military or politics.
Yet, while the high-level powered individuals possessed capabilities beyond normal humans, they also suffered considerable pain, often plagued by severe headaches and shorter lifespans.
Fortunately, aside from mental powers, Empire citizens had another rare and unique talent connected to mysterious genetic factors, known as the Healing Guild.
This guild could alleviate the agony experienced by those with high mental powers, which explained the value invested in Healing Guild members.
Both Juliet and Quinn were sons of Duke Christopher Ashwood, but as the eldest and a member of the Healing Guild, Juliet was engaged to the second son of the Senator shortly after birth.
—Although anyone could seek relief for their mental suffering at the Center of Healing, the scarcity and preciousness of the Healing Guild led the nobility to harbor a petty possessiveness toward them.
Despite Juliet's existing betrothal, Duke Christopher saw the matchmaking banquet with Lord Lucius as a chance to elevate the family’s status through Juliet’s involvement.
“True, I’m only a C-level," Juliet said, a playful smile tugging at his lips as he emphasized the last part.
Quinn managed a brief smile before his gaze grew dark.
Juliet’s status as a Healing Guild member, even as the lowest-ranked C-level, complicated things. It was he who shared a profound connection with Lance and Jo Vance, and yet it seemed that Juliet remained the designated fiancé in Vance Manor’s eyes.
Suddenly, Juliet felt a dizzy spell wash over him, causing him to stumble forward.
What was this sensation…
“Brother, how much have you had to drink? Let me help you upstairs to rest,” Quinn said, his voice softening, betraying an undercurrent of hidden glee and excitement.
That’s right…
In his first life, he’d been drugged at the matchmaking banquet and entrapped in a scheme that tarnished his reputation, though he managed to avoid the worst of it due to desperately calling for help. Ultimately, however, Quinn had persuaded him under the guise of goodwill to secretly leave Duke's Manor, solidifying the rumors of their “elopement,” which led him to a gruesome end.
Damn it.
No matter where he had been reborn, why did it have to be after he had already drunk the spiked wine?
A strange warmth surged through him, spreading to his limbs, as Juliet’s chest heaved heavily. His steps wobbled, lacking strength.
He struggled to calm his breath, activating his Healing Guild powers to the utmost to counteract the drug’s effects.
Clearly, Quinn had taken into account the self-healing capabilities of a Healing Guild member and had dosed him heavily. Juliet from the first life had nearly lost half of his mental power after enduring this drug-induced episode.
Taking deep, steady breaths, Juliet tried to slow his heartbeat and mitigate the circulation of the drug in his veins.
He slowed his breathing and relaxed his body, feeling himself being gently placed onto a soft bed by Quinn. Just as Quinn began to withdraw, the seemingly weak Juliet seized his brother’s neck with an arm and twisted sharply.
Quinn fell heavily onto the bed, landing right atop Juliet.
With renewed urgency, Juliet struggled to sit up, pushing Quinn aside and retrieving the shard of glass he had secretly stowed in his pocket. A flicker of determination flashed in his eyes.
The sharp edge of the glass was icy against his skin as he pressed it into his own thigh, slicing deeply, blood pooling immediately from the wound.
The intense pain jolted him back into clarity, and Juliet pressed down on the bleeding gash, suppressing the tremors spurred by agony, his face draining of color.
He lacked the strength to drag Quinn away, so he pulled the blanket over him instead, leaving only a few strands of Quinn’s hair exposed.
Both he and Quinn bore the same golden hair indicative of the Ashwood lineage, ensuring anyone entering would likely believe the unconscious figure on the bed to be Juliet.
With this done, Juliet felt darkness closing in around him, staggering towards the window, just as his vision blurred.

Chapter 3

Juliet Ashwood stood at the window, his fingers gripping the ledge tightly. Despite the height of the fifth floor, he couldn't shake the memories of who he once was—an unyielding force capable of jumping into the unknown. But the current Juliet was caught in a body frail from privilege and flooded with a heavy dose of aphrodisiac.
His vision blurred as colors twisted into a dizzying blur. Blood dripped from his knuckles, leaving a stark red against the black leather of his gloves, splattering against the armrest of the wheelchair nearby.
“Above us!”
A torrent of angry shouts surged toward him, a wave of intimidating psychic energy that swept through the air. It bore down on him, amplifying the chaos inside. Juliet felt the world spin, his body drifting out the window like a feather caught in a storm, everything fading to white, silence enveloping him.
In that fleeting moment of consciousness, he felt himself tilt, catching a glimpse of something deep and shadowy, glimmering under a cool metallic sheen. Just as gravity claimed him, a powerful force caught hold, gently cradling him as he descended into a firm yet unyielding embrace.
With his hand pressed into the gash on his thigh, Juliet squeezed tightly, the searing pain anchoring his mind to reality. When he looked up, he was met by a pair of deep violet eyes.
The stranger above him bore raven-black hair and a strikingly handsome face. Yet there was something menacing about him—sharp features with an edge like a knife, exuding an aura of authority that only those entrenched in power could possess. His military uniform and the officers at his back unmistakably signaled his rank.
Juliet reached for the man’s fingers, his voice a mere whisper, “Help me…”
Exhaustion washed over him as darkness engulfed, pulling him into its depths.
---
“Sir.” The Captain stepped forward, addressing the imposing figure who held the fainted boy.
The man lowered his gaze to examine Juliet, who was unmistakably dressed in attire befitting a guest at a grand event. He recognized the unique psychic frequency emanating from the boy as part of the Healing Guild.
With a slight wave of his hand, several aides approached and carefully lifted Juliet. Still, the boy's bloodied hand remained clenched around the man’s wrist, leaving damp traces on the polished gloves.
As he studied the unconscious youth, a flicker of surprise crossed his usually placid features. Since breaking through to SS-level psychic power, he had endured a relentless surge of pain coursing through his body; yet the instant Juliet’s hand brushed against him, it felt as though he had immersed it in warm water, granting him an ephemeral peace.
Was it an illusion? Or something more?
“Sir, this…” An officer hesitated behind him.
The man took a moment, then decided. He peeled off his gloves, allowing Juliet to grasp his fingers as he stumbled.
The officer froze, aware that they couldn’t afford to delay. He hurriedly carried Juliet to the infirmary at the Marshal's Keep.
The stranger's fingers brushed the bloodstains left by Juliet. The warmth slowly faded as the red Energy Stone embedded in the man’s neck flared to life, thrumming with a bright warning.
“Sir,” The Captain’s expression shifted to one of alarm. “He’s in the throes of psychic turbulence.”
“It’s fine.” The man received a handkerchief from one of his aides and wiped the blood from his fingers with a steady hand. “Investigate.”
Even the lowest-ranking members of the Healing Guild were treasures within the Imperial Legion, yet here was a bloodied boy, lost from such heights, dropped into the care of the Marshal's Keep.
“Yes, sir,” The Captain replied with a sharp nod.
---
Juliet felt as if he was floating, a mere specter hovering in limbo.
Suddenly, a bright clarity enveloped him, jolting him from his stupor, and he plummeted downward.
He slowly blinked his eyes open, revealing a pristine white room.
“You're awake.”
A soothing voice drew closer, followed by the sound of gentle footsteps.
“Don’t worry. The substance in your system has been neutralized,” a tall figure in a white coat reassured him. Lady Emilia leaned over him slightly, a warm expression on her face. “You can feel the energy surging within you since we caught it in time; your mental power has not been irreparably harmed.
Just remember to follow up with your prescriptions and rest properly, and you’ll be back to your best self soon.”
“Thank you,” Juliet managed, taking stock of his body. As the influences of the drug faded, he was astonished to realize that his once C-level energy pulsed with a vigor reminiscent of the S-level he wielded in the chaotic past.
However, now was not the time for reflection. He sat up and glanced around, locking eyes with Lady Emilia. “Where am I?”
“This is the infirmary of the Marshal's Keep,” she replied, her tone turning gentler as she regarded the young man who bore an elegant yet youthful countenance. “The Guards brought you here.”
Marshal...
Juliet tightened the blanket around him as memories of that powerful man flooded back. To him, the Field Marshal was an unreachable deity, a figure whose SS-level prowess seemed worlds apart from his own humble C-level abilities as a Healing Guild member.
Yet there was one memory that crystallized in his mind.

Chapter 4

In the sprawling expanse of the Empire, news echoed through the air like a chilling winter breeze. Lord Lucius, the Imperial Marshal and the Empire's only SS-ranked psychic warrior, was said to have less than a year to live. He was a hero, revered and beloved by the people for centuries.
In another life, Young Master Quinn had departed from the Imperial City, initially swept away by flattery and false pretenses. However, when everything he possessed, including the means to prove his identity, was deceitfully taken from him, he finally realized his plight. Desperate to return to the Ashwood family, he sought to commandeer an airship, only to discover it had been sabotaged, careening him into a deadly meteor belt with no hope of survival.
In the final moments before consciousness faded, he heard the somber announcement on the airship's news: Marshall Lord Lucius had perished in the line of duty.
Though their paths had never crossed, they met their fates in the same desolate winter.
“The Captain asked me to let you know not to worry,” Lady Emilia began, her voice soft. “He’s taken care of everything from the banquet as per the Marshal’s wishes.”
Juliet Ashwood felt a pang of sympathy at the memory of the horrific scar etched into the boy’s skin when he had first been brought in. “You needn’t be so hard on yourself,” she advised gently.
“Taken care of,” Juliet repeated, her expression darkening as she quickly accessed her Luminous Interface. A screen illuminated before her, revealing a flood of scandals involving Quinn Ashwood and the Vance brothers, Lance and Jo Vance. She stood temporarily frozen, wrestling with disbelief.
“Quinn Ashwood was always the picture of purity and gentleness. How could he betray that image and find himself in bed with those two notorious playboys?”
“Lance and Jo Vance may be known for their frivolities, but they’re also the sons of a Senator. After the disappearance of the Vance family’s oldest son, they’ve become the sole heirs.”
“Didn’t the Ashwood and Vance families have a previous engagement? It was quite the public affair.”
“They did, but that was with the Ashwood family's eldest, known for his psychic healing abilities. Though he had a temper, he was quite handsome. Isn’t Quinn Ashwood crossing a line by courting his brother’s fiancée?”
“It’s hard to trust anyone in the entertainment world; who knows what they’re really like beneath the surface?”
“Let's not forget that Lady Ashwood herself started as a mistress, so it’s hardly surprising that Quinn is following in her footsteps.”
“Just imagine being the Ashwood heir; it’s utterly disgusting.”
“I don’t typically concern myself with gossip, but the idea of them being caught at the Marshal’s matchmaking banquet—that’s beyond scandalous. After years of wavering, the Marshal finally offered a chance for a psychic match; if it becomes a disaster now, I swear I’ll make sure these two are blacklisted forever.”
Though Julia was initially confused about the unexpected arrival of Lance and Jo Vance, it seemed that any traces, including blood, had been thoroughly cleaned up by the Marshal’s keepers, leaving no evidence behind.
As expected, Lucius, the owner of the Marshal’s Keep, must have already pieced together how he had been played.
“Is it possible to see the Marshal?” Juliet asked, raising her chin defiantly. The sunlight streaming through the window accentuated her youthful features, presenting a picture of innocence.
Lady Emilia felt a tug at her heartstrings, wanting to pinch the boy's cheeks for his adorable stubbornness, but reminded herself that he was the future healer of the guild. Clearing her throat, she replied, “The Marshal is currently preoccupied with duties and has left the Marshal’s Keep.”
“However, he instructed The Captain to inform you that this incident reflects poorly on the Marshal’s Keep, and his actions have merely been a stern reminder for the offenders. As a gesture of contrition, you are welcome to stay and recover here. You may also leave at any time.”
She knew the online chatter regarding the Ashwood family was tumultuous, and given that the boy’s health hadn't fully returned, he would likely face more turmoil if he returned home.
Juliet paused, moved by the kindness and well-organized arrangements made by a man she'd only briefly encountered. The Marshal even provided a defensible reason for his decisions.
For the time being, it became increasingly evident that returning home held little appeal.
While no one would know the truth of his circumstances, Quinn Ashwood certainly couldn’t remain oblivious. Although the exposure of his relationship with Lance and Jo Vance could save face for both families in the Imperial circle, the Vance family would undoubtedly remain resentful of Quinn for forfeiting a skilled healer from their ranks. It was clear that life as Quinn Ashwood would not begin smoothly if he were to marry into the Vance family.
Just as Juliet’s newly regained power had seemed a blessing, she was still feeling the aftereffects of being drugged, leaving her in a delicate state.
Staying at the Marshal's Keep was undeniably the safest and calmest option for her current condition.
Once she regained consciousness, Juliet’s stirrings in the infirmary didn’t last long. She carefully dressed and prepared to leave with her maidservant, only to be halted by a hesitant Lady Emilia’s voice.
Turning to her, Juliet listened intently as Lady Emilia pointed to the nightstand. “When you arrived, you were clutching something tightly in your hand, but due to anesthesia, it slipped out. I took the liberty of hiding it beneath your pillow.”
Without waiting for a response, Lady Emilia hurriedly exited the room as if chased by unseen forces.
Juliet stood momentarily puzzled, wondering, “What could it possibly be?”
Approaching the bed, she carefully retrieved the object—an inconceivable yet familiar leather glove.
Stunned, Juliet breathed, “What is this?”
She wasn’t merely disoriented; her memory was intact. Just moments before succumbing to unconsciousness, she vividly remembered gripping the hand of His Excellency, the Field Marshal himself...
A few seconds later, her face flushed with embarrassment as she tucked the blood-stained glove beneath her clothing, silently following her maidservant to the appointed guest room.
***
A week passed swiftly within the Marshal's Keep, and Juliet's health showed marked improvement. Finally, Lady Emilia arrived with news: both her physical and mental powers had fully recovered, and there was no longer a need for regular check-ups or medication.

Chapter 5

On that day, Juliet Ashwood was nestled in the Garden By the Guest Rooms, lost in thought about her next steps.
In the Empire, individuals with abilities from the Healers Guild, regardless of their high Mental Power ratings or rigorous training, boasted limited combat strength.
To put it bluntly, even if she managed to shake off Lance and Jo Vance, there would only be another threat waiting around the corner.
In the Empire, Healers Guild members were a valuable asset, and the law mandated that upon reaching adulthood, they would undergo Mental Power matchmaking, leading to arranged marriages with partners of high Mental Power or protection within the Center of Healing.
This system was originally designed to safeguard the lives of Guild members, as their rarity made them prime targets for abduction and exploitation by outlaws.
Therefore, Healers Guild members had the option to select their partners freely among the high-tier mentalists identified by the Luminous Interface.
However, for Juliet, a newly-fledged C-rank member of the Healers Guild—well-connected but not favored—she found herself caught in a precarious position. Duke Christopher Ashwood wielded no real power, making her the ideal choice for noble families looking to strengthen ties through marriage.
The euphemism for such a union was "partner," but it essentially rendered her a tool—obedient to please her husband and genetically capable of passing down the Healers Guild genes to future generations.
While pursuing a position at the Center of Healing was one possible path, Juliet's Mental Power had drastically dropped since her rebirth, resembling the once-boundless S-rank potential she'd fought hard to achieve, now depleted to an underwhelming C-grade with no bargained worth to show for it.
The minimum requirement to hold a position at the Center was a Mental Power rank of B.
With no chance of raising her rating from C to B anytime soon, Juliet further doubted Duke Christopher would allow her to squander her potential on the Center's efforts when he could profit from keeping her close.
Nobles dominated the Senate with tangled familial ties that complicated any alliances. The only significant power that could rival them was the Military, known for its long-standing enmity with the Senate.
The golden-haired boy let out a deep sigh, hugging a cushion as he rolled around on the spacious Terrace.
Juliet had never been one with lofty ambitions, but after surviving the apocalypse, her desires had distinctly simplified from the whims of a pampered youth dreaming of romance, to merely wanting to stay alive.
Life during the interstellar age was remarkably more comfortable than in the aftermath of the world’s collapse.
A gentle breeze flirted with Juliet's soft strands of hair, mixing in a slight chill as tendrils grazed her collarbone, stirring a ticklish sensation.
Desperate times called for desperate measures; perhaps she could marry a lesser noble with a questionable reputation—someone who isn’t too high on the societal ladder. If things went wrong, she could still become a widow and escape from under her husband's thumb in a more… final manner.
As she pondered her options, clutching the cushion, she stood up, ready to step back into her room, but the sharp instincts honed in the wastelands screamed danger.
From a few paces away, perched on a branch, a pair of cold, gleaming eyes fixed on her—its broad, agile frame pressed against the trunk, embodying a predatory stance, baring its sharp fangs towards Juliet.
Paralyzed, Juliet struggled to swallow, beads of cold sweat trickling down her forehead and back, utterly frozen in place.
She felt like prey under the watchful eye of a feral beast, her mind frantically racing through avenues of survival.
In the Marshal’s Keep… why would Leopold be here?
Juliet had never been fond of the docile pets favored by nobles; instead, she had always been drawn to the fierce, commanding presence of wild beasts.
Such creatures were quite uncommon in the interstellar realm, and owning one required painstaking permissions. Hence, she hadn’t encountered a truly wild beast before.
Following the apocalypse, most animals underwent viral mutations; encounters with them were often deadly, both parties fighting to the bitter end.
While Juliet had a penchant for them, the instinctive fear surged as a menacing Leopold approached her, his dangerous aura enough to make anyone instinctively recoil.
She watched helplessly as the pitch-black Leopold descended from the tree, silent as shadows, landing with grace upon the Terrace.
Up close, it was clear that this was a Black Panther. Distantly dark, yet once observed closely, its coat showcased subtle dark patterns.
The panther sniffed the air, creeping closer to Juliet, circling her slowly, its powerful body brushing hers as its sleek tail flicked her wrist.
Juliet stood at a loss for words.
Realizing the Black Panther didn’t seem overly aggressive, she cautiously attempted to inch towards her room.
The Black Panther observed the fragile figure in front of it, intrigued, and lifted a paw to mimic Juliet’s movements.
Juliet blinked, undecided. After all, this was a fully grown leopard; if it decided to attack in close quarters, there would be no escape for her.
Taking a deep breath, the boy crouched down, maintaining a position where she could quickly flee, staring up at the towering Black Panther, her throat tightening as she gingerly reached out a hand.
Just as her fingertips brushed the panther’s head, it surprisingly lifted its gaze, baring its teeth in a warning, those golden animal eyes filled with both caution and menace.
The growl reverberated, a terrifying reminder of the potent strength this beast possessed.
Surely, it was a wild beast, not a domesticated one.
Juliet’s thoughts raced. It seemed to carry the innate wildness of untamed creatures, prompting her to recall nature documentaries where they described the importance of remaining still and showing no threat. Hesitantly, she raised her hand, attempting to convey her harmlessness.
The Black Panther scrutinized her for what felt like ages before finally laying down, its great head resting on its paws, granting her a fragile acceptance.
Suppressing an overwhelming surge of excitement, Juliet dared to stroke the panther’s glistening fur.
Meanwhile, The Captain, tracking the presence of the Marshal's Psychic Entity, looked up to see this extraordinary scene. His pupils constricted, rooted in place, his expression vacant in shock.

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