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Next chapter: Chapter 20
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... e people were buried—slowly, over years. Not with soil, but with labor. With silence. With the kind of despair that didn't scream, but swallowed its own voice to survive.

The sky above the district was choked with ash vents and low-hanging smog, dyed orange by the refraction of orbital burnoff. Steel monorails ran overhead like chains, transporting ore and corpses in equal measure. Barracks stretched for kilometers—rusted rectangles where thousands slept on stone floors, waiting for the ...

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