At Boulder City's gate.
A man clad head to toe in plate armor stood like a statue, his entire bearing utterly out of place amid his surroundings, drawing frequent sidelong glances from passing mercenaries and merchants.
It was not only because he stood eight feet tall, but also because his armor covered him from crown to toe, leaving almost no gaps at all. Even his steel-plated welded helmet had only a few tiny, mesh-like eyeholes.
This guy...
Did he not even need his eyes to walk?
Two mercenaries waiting in line at the city gate passed the time boasting.
"I'll bet that armor can't withstand a full burst from my gun."
"Shh, keep it down. That guy might be an Awakened."
"So what if he's Awakened? I've killed more Awakened than Deathclaws!" The mercenary was not worried in the slightest. The fifty meters around the city gate were also under the militia's jurisdiction.
Forget Awakened.
So what if it was one of the Bonechewer Tribe's tanks?
The towed artillery atop the giant wall was enough to crush any armor.
His companion clearly did not believe him and snorted.
"Quit bragging. Who was it that wet himself the moment he heard a Deathclaw roar?"
"Say that one more fucking time!"
Ignoring the chatter around him, the armored man lingered at the gate for a moment before heading toward the Far Wind Hotel across the street.
The attendant standing outside the hotel was not particularly surprised by the heavily armored man. Of the many guests he had received, this sort of attire could only be considered conservative. It was not even strange.
Forget wearing something. Even if someone wore nothing at all, he would not say a word.
"Welcome, sir. Do you need a room?"
A dull voice drifted out from inside