Still, There Were More Good People

Deep Prison had no kindness.

Because the will of Deep Prison was a gathering of evil from countless planes.

If one had to say that Deep Prison possessed any kindness, then striving to commit evil was Deep Prison's greatest act of kindness.

Since he could not observe the area surrounded by the walls, Suye could only study the walls carefully.

The morning light was foul, carrying the stench of sulfur mixed with the smell of raw iron.

The sections of the walls near the inner ring were surrounded by layer upon layer of enormous divine-power machinery.

Behind each catapult, the ground revealed countless pitch-black cellar entrances, from which rocks were constantly sent upward.

In front of the three layers of catapults stood rows upon rows of giant crossbows, equally dense.

Unlike ordinary city defenses, not one of the operators of these catapults and giant crossbows was human. They were all metal puppets.

They were not magic puppets.

They were divine power puppets forged by the Artisan Temple.

Vulcan, the God of Craftsmen, possessed the finest puppets. Even the God of Puppets, one of his subordinate gods, had been made by his own hands.

The defensive machinery of Deep Prison Fortress had been completely built by the Artisan Temple.

Between the various defensive machines and the inner walls, countless warriors, mages, and priests stood on the front lines.

Some rested, some patrolled, some prepared for battle, and some chatted...

They seemed to be doing different things, but their expressions were astonishingly identical.

Utterly indifferent. No matter what they did, not one of them showed the slightest emotion. Even the wrinkles on their faces looked as though they had been cast from iron.

At that moment, the morning light shone down, yet their eyes were filled with twilight.

They looked more like