In a daze, Wasteland Wolf felt as though he saw his father, who had died long ago.
It was the year 262 after the war, when he had been around ten years old.
Whenever his father went hunting or traded supplies with powerful nearby Gathering Places, he would bring Wasteland Wolf along and tell him all sorts of interesting stories about what had happened during his travels.
That had been when he learned the fastest.
Whether it was survival, fighting, or hunting.
If that terrifying Mutated Beast Tide that swept across the entire New World had not arrived, his father might have taken them even farther, all the way to the legendary safe zone to settle down and live the kind of life every wanderer envied.
But suddenly, a vicious black wolf pounced forward and tore apart the blurry silhouette of his father.
Startled awake, Wasteland Wolf hurriedly opened his eyes.
A dazzling light shone from in front of him, making him squint again as he tried to observe through narrowed eyes.
There were eight people. Two stood at the very front.
The one on the left looked very young. His skin showed no scars or scratches left by combat at all, so he probably was not someone skilled in fighting.
The older, middle-aged man on the right was strange as well. His eyes were moving irregularly, scanning left and right, up and down. It was almost certain that they were artificial eyes.
"Cough, cough. You should be able to understand what I'm saying, right?"
The middle-aged man's throat moved as he spoke another language whose pronunciation was completely different from China Language.
Wasteland Wolf froze, then nodded blankly and answered instinctively, "You're speaking Old Human Alliance Language. I can understand you."
But as soon as he finished speaking, he