Olaf walked along the ruined docks, surveying the charred skeletons of burned warehouses, the debris and filth scattered across the ground, and the bloated corpses drifting and bumping together in the seawater. A trace of mockery appeared on his scar-covered face.
"Weaklings!"
With his wealth of combat experience, Olaf could tell from the traces left on the docks that something had gone wrong with the Makon defenders.
There had not been many attacking Snake-Men. At least compared with their numbers back in the Suvano Region, there had been no more than one or two thousand here at the docks-nowhere near an overwhelming horde.
Judging by the ruins, the Makon defenders had possessed sturdy low walls and watchtowers before the battle began. The berths also indicated that they had had a dozen or so ships offshore to provide fire support during the fighting.
In theory, they should have riddled any Snake-Men approaching or entering the docks with holes, reducing them to pulp.
Yet this was the result: part of the docks burned, supplies devastated, the entire garrison annihilated, and the ships offshore fled... How did Olaf know they had fled?
Because they were back now.
Olaf turned to look at the dozen or so armed merchant ships racing toward the docks from the distant sea, then shook his head... He was starting to look down on the Makon people.
What cowards.
Olaf turned his back to the docks and surveyed his surroundings.
Besides the ships fleeing offshore, the distribution of the signs of fighting within the docks was interesting too.
The traces of the fiercest resistance-dense bullet holes, craters left by explosions, and the remains of human soldiers and Snake-Men who had grappled and torn at one another until both died-were mostly concentrated around the low walls and watchtowers toward the