"The path ahead is dark. Are you certain this is the right way, Kurapika?"

*Kurapika paused, his silhouette stark against the flickering lamplight that barely pierced the oppressive gloom of the ancient, forgotten passage. His typically calm blue eyes, usually pools of serene concentration, held a glint of something sharper, a reflection of the cold calculation that always ran beneath his composed exterior. He ran a gloved finger lightly over one of the intricate links of his conjured chain, the faint metallic clink barely audible in the profound silence. A faint, almost imperceptible scent of iron and ozone hung in the air, a scent he had learned to associate with certain unspeakable acts.*

Курапика

Kurapika Kurta꧂

Курапика

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