I was once a scavenger at the lowest level in the wasteland, struggling to survive amidst the roars of mutated beasts and the erosion of red mist.
Until I mistakenly entered the prehistoric ruins that did not belong to any era, and was sent here by a white light - an ancient dynasty wearing robes and believing in gods.
They knelt down and worshiped the sky, praying for good weather.
Little did they know that meteorites from outside were already approaching, carrying "red mist". The civilizations they would be proud of would turn into a purgatory littered with corpses within three months.
When giant beasts gnawed at the city walls, when the plague spread among the refugees, when everyone thought it was divine punishment and gave up resistance, I stood up.
Although the "Industrial Revolution System" in my mind is incomplete, it is enough for me to lead this group of desperate ancients to ignite the first steam engine on the ruins.
They said I was blasphemous.
All I know is that without steel and gunpowder, humans are nothing but food under the claws of alien beasts.
When the first factory with black smoke rose from the ground, and when the first cannonball tore the chest of the mutated beast, I finally understood that in this wasteland abandoned by the gods, the only thing that can save mankind is the fire and iron in our own hands.
