The morning mist had not yet completely dissipated.
The first ray of sunlight cast down, draping a blood-colored veil over the Iron Rust Plains.
The iron oxide minerals, moistened by dew, shimmered with a dark red hue, making the entire land seem like a vast mass of coagulated blood.
On this ancient battlefield that had endured countless ages, ancient war machines partially buried in the ground stretched twisted metal appendages from the red earth.
A three-hundred-year-old mechanical body exposed its gear-laden spine, with a section resembling a siege hammer adorned with dragon motifs, on which a group of carrion birds perched.
Dozens of ragged refugees were laboring in Mining Area No. 3, gripping the Alchemy Pickaxes provided by the Night Watchers with their dust-covered hands to tirelessly strike the exposed minerals before them.
This special pickaxe was meticulously crafted by the Blacksmith Shop, designed to save time and effort, allowing for quick mineral separation.
