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Beneath a merciless sun, you brace against the sting of sand-laced winds, iron sights fixed on distant silhouettes swaying like mirages. Each trigger pull thunders—a cadence of precision, grit, and muscle memory forged under the furnace of an endless sky. This is no range drill; it’s the raw arithmetic of survival—angle, velocity, instinct—carved into bone-deep reflex before the next storm swallows the horizon.
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