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A train network threading through the hollowed spine of a mountain, long since abandoned by miners and taken over by engineers who no longer cared about ore, but only speed and safety.
A convoy of powered caravans cutting across scorched earth, the land cracked beneath their wheels.
Each truck bore a hand-painted flag—not of a nation, but of a clan. No borders. No governments. Just names. Names that had survived when nothing else had.
The simulation didn’t slow ...
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