The City of Sin was established outside the influence of the Human Empire, in a scarcely tread region reinvented as Pioneer City.
And now, this isolated city had a new neighbor, a brand-new city constructed not too far from the City of Sin.
This new city was nad Pandora.
It was also the Holy City of the Church of Machinery, and its first inhabitants were the tens of thousands from the Rebel Army who survived the previous battle, along with their families.
All in all, the total population was about one hundred and fifty thousand, not many, but enough for a newly established city's initial population.
Currently, at the construction site of Pandora, n and won, young and old, were all working together. Although the working conditions weren't great and the tasks weren't easy, few complained of weariness. Everyone wore smiles, for they knew they were not laboring for others but building their own new ho.
Holy City Pandora wasn't any kingdom's or noble's fiefdom, but a ho belonging to the Church of Machinery, a ho for all its workers.
Working for oneself, building one's own ho, how could that be tiring? Even if one truly felt tired, it was a happy exhaustion.
Whenever they grew tired from work, the workers would unceremoniously sit down on the ground, taking off their straw hats to fan themselves. Looking at the new city taking shape bit by bit through their own hands and labor, a sense of pride and happiness welled up from within. That was the best reward.
"How wonderful, truly wonderful, this is indeed a beautiful city,"
a white-haired but healthy-looking old man exclaid with such sentints.
"Of course, uncle, the city's blueprint was personally drafted by Sister Dorothy. The beauty of it is unparalleled, even the sewers are as grand as palaces. I've been involved in the construction of other cities before, but compared to our Pandora, those are just ruins. Wait until the city is fully completed a little later. Then, uncle, you'll see what true beauty is,"
hearing this, a sweaty, middle-aged strong man beside him spoke with a proud, simple smile. As he poured cool water over his head to cool off, he said this.
In response, the old man nodded, then noticed the man's sowhat unusual hand.
It wasn't a hand made of flesh and blood but a tallic prosthetic. Through the semi-transparent "skin," one could vaguely see an intricate chanical structure inside, with countless gears of all sizes and brass levers comprising the "ridians" of this hand, while the steam flowing through the slender conduits served as its "blood."
"Your hand?"
The old man looked at the strong young man with a hint of pity.
"Hey, uncle, don't look at like that. My hand is not a loss at all. In the previous battle, it took down two of the church's lapdog Knights, didn't it? That was a bargain,"
seeing the old man's pitying expression, the strong man scratched his head and proudly said.
He could boast about this for a lifeti—who would have thought that a common worker like him could have such a mont of glory? Trading an arm for the lives of two church dogs, he had made a profit. At the very least, he had avenged his parents and ancestors.
But pride aside, he couldn't help feeling a bit apprehensive.
After all, he was the main breadwinner of the family. If he really lost a hand and beca disabled, his already modest family would face even harder tis, as his wife and children depended on him for support.
Although he had no regrets about the lost arm and would choose the sa again, to fight those despised church dogs on the battlefield, he felt he had let his family down.
He had no idea what to do as a disabled person, but at that mont, the Church of Machinery saved his life once more.
chanical prosthetics, the latest grand invention researched by the Church of Machinery, were developed by Sister Dorothy and Sister Denisa specifically for disabled people like him, allowing them to be whole again.
And to his amazent, the Church of Machinery provided such wonders for free, without taking a penny, and promised a lifeti warranty in gratitude for their brave performance on the battlefield.
But what was there to thank? After all, they harbored enmity towards the church. It was the Church of Machinery that gave them the opportunity for revenge, not the other way around.
In any case, the two Sister Nuns were truly rciful. If there were deities in this world, then surely they must be the True Gods of the Mortal Realm.
"Uncle, look at this hand of mine, it's even more useful than the original. Not only is it stronger, but it's also more agile and fearless of cuts and burns. The Way of chanical is truly miraculous. We are in charge of constructing the future school, where the chanical Monks will teach the Way of chanical. I have to do a good job and build a sturdy academy; my little rascals at ho will also co here to learn. The Church of Machinery is the future. With the Church of Machinery, our days are looking up,"
the strong man shared his feelings with the old man once more.
"Yes, life keeps getting better. I just wish my youngest son could see this too."
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