Theus, in the rear, also vaguely sensed that something was off. These fishmen were far too abnormal. They clearly recognized bows and arrows and should have dealt with humans before, yet their performance in battle was so utterly pathetic.
The key was that they had obviously been scared out of their wits, yet they still managed to organize attack after attack.
It was truly strange.
Sometimes, Theus felt that they were like a group of farmers who had no idea how to fight, forcibly driven onto the battlefield.
Wait, if he followed that line of thought...
"Ash, were they all carrying weapons?"
Ash noticeably paused. After a while, she replied, "Only a small number carried weapons. More fishmen were carrying pickaxes."
"Pickaxes?!"
This answer had clearly caught everyone by surprise. Even the Banshees' small group had already begun discussing it.
"Yes, most of them carried pickaxes. Only a very few held weapons, and some fishmen even came empty-handed."
Ash's voice held a trace of confusion as well. The Banshees had just slaughtered the fishmen until they scattered, encountering no resistance at all. But looking at their equipment now, even if they had wanted to resist, they could not have done so.
And what were they planning to dig on the island with pickaxes?
Theus felt an immense unease clutch at his heart. He was not afraid of facing enemies head-on on the battlefield, but he could not understand what the enemy was doing at all. Yet his instincts were frantically warning him, as though he had fallen into some enormous conspiracy.
"Are there any other enemies? Sea urchins? Fishmen? Pollution Serpents?"
"None. The fishmen simply retreated into the sea. We're monitoring the shore right now. There is... no movement here at all."
Ash looked out at the distant sea. It