Old Calendar, 1811.
As I watched my fallen comrades being dragged away by the guards, I knew there was no turning back.
Suppressing the fury in my heart, I followed the black-robed figures out of the concrete bungalow with the other refugees.
The humming began again. It was the sound of the city walls resuming operation—according to the Resistance Army's higher-ups, these walls used Relic Technology. Forget them; even humans of the Prosperity Era could not breach them head-on.
The Wailing Wall truly lived up to its name.
Oh, right. That was what I had heard the guards call it. The city I had entered was known to them as Varrela City.
Following behind the black-robed figures, we entered the nearby forest.
The dense forest formed a natural sound barrier. Before we had gone far, the dizzying hum vanished completely.
After passing through the forest, I finally saw Varrela City's true face.
It was a backward city built from concrete and cement. As far as the eye could see, there were mostly low buildings of three or four stories, or even just one or two.
What a waste of space.
The intelligent machines could clearly have constructed skyscrapers with ease, yet they had not done so.
That was equally puzzling.
As I walked along the relatively level cement road, I saw the humans kept in captivity by the intelligent machines.
They were the same as me, with one nose and two eyes, except...
Unlike what the Resistance Army had claimed, these captive humans seemed to be living quite comfortably?
Their cheeks even bore a healthy flush!
Outside the city, such a sight was nearly impossible to find!
Furthermore, they held the black-robed figures before me in great reverence—the priests. That was what they called them.
The intelligent machines had actually