The sun sets, and the water surface of San Juan Bay is like polished Obsidian, gently reflecting the glow of the sunset. Along the east coast, a gentle hill gradually rises from the coastline, covered with chest-high lemongrass and soft-stemmed dwarf palm.
And at this moment, pairs of vigilant eyes crouch in the tall grass. They resemble a wolf pack before the hunt, watching the distant village stronghold of the Castilians, planning in hushed tones about this "Wild Bull" that is far stronger than them.
"Juan, are you sure you want to split the forces into two, to raid the demon's lair? One group to start a fire while the other kills?"
