The little boy nodded, seemingly understanding yet not.
"But, why do we have to go to the Extreme Martial Arts Hall? I... I don't want to stay there alone—"
He was reluctant, with a hint of crying in his voice.
Before the apocalypse, he hadn't even started junior high. It was an age of innocence and romance, yet disaster struck, and his parents both perished... Moustache was the boy's only remaining relative.
Moustache squatted down, exhaling a cloud of smoke that lingered in the cold air.
Not far away, a peddler with a backpack and wrapped in an old woolen coat faced the Awakeners passing by with a stiff smile, occasionally selling a bottle of water or a pack of food, revealing a knowing smile unwittingly.
The Awakeners, clad in beast skins or combat uniforms, hurried along.
Some were in groups of three or five with solemn expressions, some were seriously injured, being carried back by their companions...
