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THE STORY OF A SADIN.
Red's stance was unbending and determined as he sat on the cold dark floor of the gothic penal. His life expectancy was derelict. He couldn't even remember when everything started to fall apart but he remembered those that were involved.
The first perfidy was the datum that he wasn't even a berserk in the first place, he was just holding power for the King, he was nothing more than a vessel and that insight alone constricted all his understanding, achievements, it wasn't his in the first place. And then, the remaining started to catch him off guard, deprived of explanation for why he was going through it in the first place.
He murdered people to capture the Sadin but he never thought he would face this type of backlash. As if staring at the empty sheet wasn't sufficient or was it holding her clothes and pretending she was resting on his chest wasn't desolate enough.