The center of the Black Domain, White Mountain Town.
The furnace blazed brightly. On the earthen stove piled with yellow mud, patches of gooey paste slowly dried into baked flatbread.
The room was huge. Three rooms had been knocked together into one large heated bed, making it look like a rectangular warehouse.
More than ten people sat cross-legged inside.
Sitting at the edge of the bed board, a middle-aged man in short sleeves took a pained sip of liquor while casually flipping the scorched dough with his left hand.
Setting down his cup, he sighed lazily and stared blankly at the ceiling:
"Ugh, eating flatbread every day has left my mouth so bland I could spit feathers."
"When will these days ever end?"
Fiddling with the charcoal, a dark-skinned middle-aged man around the same age shot him an irritated glance:
"Enough. Having something to eat is already pretty good."
"Look outside. People are so hungry they're almost eating each other."
"There are Zombies, ghosts, and all sorts of monsters out there. You should be satisfied, damn it!"
The drinking man let out an awkward laugh. He didn't mind his companion's tone; he was only venting.
"It's just that I'm bored!"
"Damn it, if only I could play with a few young women, life would be so much better. It's all because of that bunch of students in the east who haven't even grown all their hair yet. They won't allow this or that!"
"Damn those little brats! Who knows if they're secretly fooling around among themselves behind our backs!"
As he spoke, the drinking man resentfully glanced toward the town in the east.
There were more than four thousand people in the entire town, all of whom had fled here when the apocalypse erupted and ended up trapped here.
One