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The gate of Hope Town.
The merchant caravan attendants who were loading and unloading goods looked around nervously at the thin mist that had suddenly appeared. A flicker of panic filled their minds.
Both the guards at the gate and the mercenaries standing by the trucks tightened their rifles and kept watch in all directions, especially toward the small copse of trees to the north.
The townspeople exchanged glances and whispered to one another in astonishment.
“Did fog roll in?”
“How can it appear in the afternoon?”
“And that color…”
“That color doesn’t look like ordinary fog. Could it be some kind of gas…”
“Could it be those Mutant Humans?”
That conjecture was not without reason, after all, the Mutant Humans had come by a few days ago and had been forced away by the New Alliance.
Their expressions gradually shifted to fear and many returned home. Those who could put on gas masks did so, while those who couldn’t quickly used damp towels to cover their mouths and noses.
A green-skinned half-breed stood...
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