The Moon surface base—or, strictly speaking, it was not a base at all, but rather what emerged after the entire surface of the moon had been covered, reinforced, and weaponized. After thousands of years of constant construction, this natural satellite had been transformed into a Steel Fortress. It hung coldly in the vastness of space, its forest of guns and heavy armor aimed toward its mother planet. There was no denying that it was a tragedy.
For thousands of years, the exiles driven from their homeland had gazed toward home day after day, hoping that one day they could return to the land where they had once lived and thrived. Yet they had no choice but to arm themselves in this place hundreds of thousands of kilometers from home, pointing every weapon toward their homeland, because their homeland—their homeland had become their enemy.
Under such circumstances, it was difficult for the Survivor society that had been established and maintained there to possess the vitality and vigor that any normal civilization should have.
The Moon surface base was one enormous, strictly disciplined barracks. Factories and barracks occupied seventy to eighty percent of all its facilities. Across the endless steel earth stood mining rigs and production centers for assembling war machines everywhere one looked. The highly intelligent mechanical biomanufactured beings known as "Agents" were produced continuously in these factories, then sent to the Zenith Seat after a short period of adaptive adjustments and preparations. In an even shorter time, half of them would be used as expendable materials to fill the bottomless grinder on the mother planet.
An Agent who had served for more than ten years, like N-4, was practically a miracle. Most were like N-6, encountering the Firstborn's counterattack during some bombing mission, then being effortlessly shot down and crashing