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... The glow of the setting sun was still like molten iron, pouring down from the cracks in the clouds, dyeing the entire wilderness a rusty red, and in the distance, the horizon seemed to be burning, exuding twisted heat waves in the twilight.
Carmel Black Oil Field.
The rumbling of alchemical engines was incessant.
Pumpjacks with steel frames stood on the horizon at regular intervals, densely packed like countless devout pilgrims, rhythmically pounding the earth to pump va ...
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