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... waiting for him.

Bucket and his fellow cultists played dice with pellets near a rifle whose barrel was planted in the ground like a tree with a helmet over the stock; Yuan guessed they buried their late comrade there. As for Orient, she diligently stood on the spirit-train’s threshold since her nature as a caretaker prevented her from leaving its confines.

“I’m back,” Yuan said gruffly, only for Holster to rush over and hug him the moment he stepped out of the Headshot Forge. It ...

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