"Old Germanic gods, please grant me a chance! Best if you can conjure up a ship, so we can get off this damned Great Island… those shameless, cruel Castilians, the more of them die, the better!…"
Shenluo Mercenary Captain Reinhardt closed his eyes, devoutly praying and chanting to some unknown Evil God. Then, his keen ears suddenly caught a rustling sound.
"Hm? What's that sound, the Natives again?!"
Reinhardt became highly alert, suddenly raising his Shield and looking toward the pitch‑black tall grass to the south. He'd been crawling through battlefields for twenty years and had an extremely sharp sense for danger. Though the sounds were faint, like the noise of birds passing overhead, the feeling of being watched and scrutinized was exactly the same as when the Natives had ambushed them last time!
No, this time the feeling was much stronger than before, stronger than ever! Those Cipangu Natives must be more numerous than last time, many more!
