Late at night.
The silent West Continent City was like a dead city. Only the Fourth New District, flooded by backflowing lake water, showed scattered flickers of light.
Inside a crudely built sentry post, Gray Dog, wrapped in animal hides, yawned and tossed a damp chunk of wood into the nearby brazier before slowly pacing over to the observation slit.
Though April weather had already begun to warm, the air in West Continent City still carried a damp chill.
Especially in the Fourth New District.
The entire district was submerged.
The streets nearby gleamed with water, with lumps of pitch-black debris floating on the surface. It was impossible to tell whether they were rotten logs tangled in algae or Ripper Claw Crab shells.
Though life here came with countless inconveniences, it was still the best place to set up camp.
The backflowing lake water had crippled all underground facilities throughout the district. Here, they did not need to worry about guerrillas appearing and disappearing without a trace.
On top of that, the Ripper Claw Crabs active in this area were the natural enemies of all living things. Anyone unfamiliar with this place would struggle to take even a single step.
So...
What was even the point of him standing guard?
Staring at the utterly silent streets, Gray Dog yawned again and could not help missing their time in the central part of River Valley Province.
That had probably been the happiest period of his life.
They had swept forward unstoppably, leaving scorched earth wherever they went. They burned and looted everything, did whatever they wanted to the slaves they captured... No one could stop them, and no one was their match.
However, ever since they had pushed south, one unlucky thing after another had happened.
First, they suffered a setback