Chasing Light City, Black Obsidian Martial Arts Hall.
Three large tricycles loaded with ore rolled over the cracked asphalt road, the rusty frames groaning as if in a death throe.
Twelve gray-clad men shouldered logs and followed closely behind, the coarse bark rubbing raw marks on their shoulders, but no one stopped—these gray-clad folks had been shuttling back and forth to the Grizzly Mine for three consecutive days. Their mechanical repetition of the mining task had turned the initial startled glances of the vagabonds along the way into numb indifference.
Yes! Numbness!
In three days, this group of gray-clad madmen had been coming and going from the Grizzly Mine without rest, almost making at least four trips a day. Now, this grand convoy had become a spectacle in the Abandoned Area, leaving other non-human vagabonds dumbfounded. They couldn't believe that a wild gang could exploit its members to such an extent.
