by IYeetTables
In the world of cold coins and coiled snakes, nobody warns you when you’re about to die. There are no grand arguments, nor theatrical profanities—only a friend’s amicable smile before the blade finds its home.In this culling game of Wrenched Heirs, fate is edged in hope and regret. Who can rise beyond the Madness of the Mass? Either you keep banging your head against an iron wall, or you die trying.
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