A long line of refugees trudged through the dry desert, all of them Ishvalans in tattered clothes.
Their hands were linked together by thick hemp ropes, and the places where they had been bound were visibly rubbed raw and blistered.
Their eyes were filled with numbness and despair, as if they could not see even a shred of hope for the future.
Beside this group of more than a hundred people stood four figures dressed distinctly differently. They were the other batch of Reincarnators led by the Great Priest.
Clearly, these four were responsible for escorting the hundred-plus people to a designated location.
"Damn natives, take a good look at who we are. Have you forgotten the suffering from back then?"
One Reincarnator swung the whip in his hand, lashing an elderly man who had been walking a little too slowly.
The blow made him stagger, his flesh splitting open.
The Ishvalans along the way were furious but dared not speak.
Resistance...
There had been some, but they had all died facing these alchemists who seemed born for slaughter!
The survivors were all 'obedient citizens' who no longer resisted.
The incident of Ishval's suppression back then surfaced once more in everyone's minds.
"Heh, natives."
The Reincarnator who had drawn the whip had mocking superiority in his eyes.
These Ishvalans, divided into refugee camps, were undoubtedly the best targets for capture.
No one would stand up for them!
Their numbers were also enough to complete His Highness's activation array.
They were all precious resources, so he had shown restraint when striking them.
"Careful, someone's coming."
One alert Reincarnator seemed to sense something and warned all his teammates. Then they saw a figure walking toward them through the wind and sand.
In a place like this, someone dressed like a traveler looked