Several dozen li away stood a dense cluster of tents—more than forty thousand of them gathered together. By nomadic customs, a large tribe of this size would have a population of roughly five to six hundred thousand. And under the nomads' tradition of every citizen being a soldier, such a tribe could at any time muster more than a hundred and fifty thousand warriors capable of galloping on horseback, drawing bows, and firing arrows.
In particular, atop a black tent at the center of the tribe stood a flagpole, from which hung three black ox tails and a small gray wolf-head banner. Clearly, this tribe had priests and shamans from the temple stationed within it; it was no ordinary small tribe.
It was an utterly ordinary morning. Large numbers of nomads had already driven their herds into the distance, while at the edge of the image, several Temple of War scouts clad in pale green leather armor could be seen furtively peering around, gesturing as they counted the tents and herds, while drawing a map upon a Magic Beast hide.
At that moment, a low rumble came from the east.
It was a sound beyond description, as though it had erupted directly from the core of one's heart, making the blood vessels throughout one's body swell and throb.
'Boom~ boom~ boom~ boom boom'!
'Boom~ boom~ boom~ boom boom'!
'Boom~ boom~ boom~ boom boom'!
Three long, two short—dull as thunder, violent as a hurricane—the war drums carrying a sky-high aura of slaughter came from the east. The booming of the enormous drums spread outward wave after wave. Everyone saw the grass in the light screen flatten as if swept by a hurricane; long blades of grass suddenly bent to the ground, one wave after another collapsing, as though a hurricane had