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... d on his face, pinching wherever it met his exposed skin, the scent of old blood and salt contained within each grain. Oscar shook his artificial arm, beating it against the air, satisfied at the sight of zero sand dropping from within, meaning nothing, not even the tiniest grains of sand, entered his artificial arm. A fine piece of craftsmanship, Oscar lamented in silence. If only Gol-4 was alive to witness the wonders he recreated for the old one's sake.
Readying himself again, Oscar c ...
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