The Wasteland night was quiet and endless. Under the shroud of dense fog, everywhere looked like a ghost realm.
With the modest bonfire party over, the Red Spider Merchant Group, having finished its half-month vacation, returned to the tense state it had been in when it first arrived.
The nineteenth day of the ninth month of Wasteland Calendar Year One.
An ordinary morning.
There were no unnecessary spectators and no grand farewell ceremony. The Red Spider War Chariot, shaped like a massive container, began coming apart on the flat, soft ground, slowly returning to the form it had possessed when they first arrived.
The difference was that the wheels and gaps in the bodies of every war chariot were no longer covered in the rust they had borne at first. Instead, they gleamed with the bright luster of fresh-from-the-factory equipment.
Rumble.
The heavy mechanical sound of a self-check began with the first vehicle and rattled its way backward.
After six consecutive sounds, all the Red Spider War Chariots formed a line and resolutely headed toward the northernmost shore of the Wasteland.
Seated before the window of the independent office compartment in the second vehicle,
Sean could not help showing a trace of melancholy.
The convoy's inexplicable appearance in that great mountain had already caused them plenty of hardship.
Now they were leaving a safe place and once again driving into the unknown fog, toward the location from which the Foundation's signal had been sent.
Anyone who made this decision would hesitate and regret it repeatedly.
"I wonder how many dangers are waiting for us ahead."
Watching the temporary camp disappear completely from view behind them, Sean sighed again.
"We purchased a huge amount of auxiliary materials. Even if the vehicles are damaged as badly as before, we can still fully