In addition to recalling Azima and Rother, Roland also wrote down the follow-up arrangements.

It was a time-consuming and laborious task to mine uranium mines safely. Not only was it necessary to formulate a detailed operational procedure and set up monitoring nodes, workers also needed to have a certain understanding of the work they were engaged in. They would then have to act meticulously according to the rules.

In the face of imminent war threats, he naturally did not intend to follow the normal protocols.

The North Slope mine was a good example.

He bought the prisoners on death penalty directly from the Duke of Quinn. He then threw them into the ruins without compensation and holidays, and he did not need to prepare protective measures for them. They would be released after working for a decade. He believed that those people would make the right choice if they had to choose between the gallows or a chance of survival.

Furthermore, local lords would probably be quite happy to use the lives of these sc.u.ms in exchange for an additional income.

In this way, the 100 soldiers of the exploration team only needed to be responsible for supervision and security work, thus greatly reducing the requirements of defense.

Sean was undoubtedly the best candidate to be in charge of management.

Finally, at the end of the confidential letter, Roland also made sure to order the guards to look for the whereabouts of the "treasures" that the people had brought out of the ruins a century ago.

After all, there were a few doubts about the rumor that bothered him a little.

This clan, which had not been recorded by history, seemed to have an inexplicable sense of wors.h.i.+p for radioactive elements. It used brick ore to build a temple for sacrifices and even used it to torture the enemy. Some were even made to swallow the ore. Those bodies that were filled with green fluorescence, as seen through Azima's eyes, were proof that it happened. Although it was unclear whether their demise had a direct connection with this kind of wors.h.i.+p, it was appropriate to call them a radioactive clan.

Since the world was so big, it was not surprising that all kinds of civilization could exist. What was truly strange was that no matter how deep you went into the mining area or took ore to make bricks, it would not be possible to cause "flesh rotting" effects. Even if you lived in mines, the long-term internal and external exposure to various types of decay radiation would only result in a mere increase in the probability of getting cancer. If you were meant to live to the age of 80, you might have lived to the age of 66 only.

After all, natural nuclides' release efficiency is really too low.

Several unlucky people that died in the rumor did not seem to have died from cancer or mutation complications. They seemed to have been affected by strong radiation.

In order to satisfy the latter condition, only the high-purity nuclear material could reach criticality, and a large number of neutron fluxes and hard γ-rays have to be generated in an instant. However, this situation did not seem to be something that the radioactive clan could achieve.

Roland did not rule out the possibility that the rumor itself had distorted the facts. However, the villagers' misery at that time should have been known by more than one person. If it was true, the problem would most likely be those "treasures".

Only in this way would the ruin take over the function of the altar of execution—Otherwise, every detainee would live for dozens of years before dying. If this altar was not built into a high-rise apartment building, it would not be able to hold so many people.

It was a pity that a century exceeded Summer's retrospective period. It was almost impossible to completely understand what was happening at that time and Sean could only try his best.

He felt that the truth behind the rumors might not be so simple.

After Honey took the letter, Roland walked to the desk and examined the paintings that were spread out.

Although the distorted ink images were filled with strange and absurd things, he could still recognize the general subject and object—The subject was mostly located in the center of the scrolls. The outline was large and delicate, representing the ruler of the ruins; the object was much smaller. They were in all of the corners, and from their hideous expressions, you could feel their pain and fear.

This was probably the universal nature of all intelligent life—Always make yourself the protagonist in historical records.

Just like Sean said, neither the subject nor the object was related to the known civilizations such as the demons, the demonic beasts, or the undersea civilization. Their shapes were quite weird, some were like matchsticks with limbs that were indistinguishable from head and tail; while the others were like crawling protozoa with all of their organs located in the brain.

The contents of the murals were not all related to the execution. There were some that depicted the scenes in which the subject and the object were fighting. They seemed to be able to fly by inflating the body and following the direction of the wind. They seemed to take advantage of the high-alt.i.tude to maneuver and land behind the enemy and successfully attack from both sides. The towering defense line was not of any use. The city was a sea of ​​fire and the object was defeated.

As long as the roles were clearly identified, it would also be possible to roughly understand the events described in these seemingly crazy records.

"Huh?" Roland's glance suddenly settled on a picture.

"What's wrong?" Nightingale quickly noticed his strange look.

"Do you feel like you've seen these scenes depicted in the murals before?" He walked to the scroll and bent down to look at a mural describing exactly the last part of the war: countless matchsticks were united as if they were trying to fight to their last breath, but they were still knocked to the ground by the subject. The blood flowed and gathered into huge lakes. The surviving enemies fled to the sea. They were chased by the subject and killed. Their corpses even formed a small bag of a mountain in the sea.

"Oh..." Nightingale observed him for a long time and said, "In addition to using more ink, it doesn't seem to be different from other drawings."

"Well, combat ability and artistic appreciation are inherently opposite." Roland held his forehead and said, "Help me get a map of the Southernmost Region."

"Yes, I will." The latter did it quickly and placed a thick stack of maps in front of Roland. At the same time, she also handed him some dried fish.

Roland bit the dried fish while his hands kept moving. He soon found a partial bird's-eye view of the Endless Cape

At that time, in order to determine the location of Festive Harbor, he asked Lightning and Maggie to make detailed maps of it, so he still had a deep impression. When the two were put together, he suddenly felt a layer of goose b.u.mps on his back. His body felt like a current had run through him and his fingers were numb.

"The outlines of the two maps overlapped!"

"Although the details were different, the boundary between the mainland and the Swirling Sea was basically the same, and similarity was above 80%!"

"Was this... a coincidence?"

"Hey, is this the Southernmost Region on the map?" Nightingale also realized that something was wrong and asked, "Isn't that where the Sand Nation people live?"

Roland did not answer but quickly scanned the remaining painting scrolls.

When he saw the penultimate one, all the blood in his body seemed to freeze.

He saw only a dozen of the subjects gathered on a high platform, forming a large circle. An irregular polyhedron floated in the circle. There were countless strange tentacles on its surface. It was like the snake demon Medusa's hair.

Sean did not see this scene with his own eyes, so he naturally did not know what was shown in the painting.

However, Roland knew very well what it was.

That was clearly "the relic of G.o.ds".