After a fierce battle and a great deal of chaos, night finally fell. The vast column of refugees had mostly made it beyond the western outskirts of Guixu City, and, protected by the Federation Army from the mining base and the armed forces from the various shelters, they began hurrying west toward the mountains.
It was fair to say that the mining base's risky mission to profit from the chaos had, for the most part, succeeded.
Of course, there were simply too many refugees to evacuate. Their densely packed column stretched from the broad road outside the city all the way to the distant villages, fields, and mountains, like a giant dragon painfully clawing its way forward. It would still be quite some time before the evacuation could be considered a complete success.
On top of that, there were far too few vehicles—almost none at all. With the refugees forced to run dozens of kilometers on foot, the journey would inevitably take a long time.
Even so, though they had no choice but to walk and many were in poor physical condition, their spirits remained high. Supported by one another, they pressed steadily onward, escorted by armored soldiers all around them and by the various vehicles and aircraft that roared past from time to time along the roads and overhead.
The soldiers didn't need to urge them on or maintain order. The refugees instinctively gave everything they had to keep up with the main group and move forward. Even those who were exhausted, injured, or leaning on sticks gritted their teeth and persevered.
After enduring more than three months of apocalyptic horrors, they understood better than anyone the value of safety and life. Knowing that a safe zone lay in the distance—a place with a chance to live, with hope,