The sky-shattering war cries echoed across the lake's surface, drowning out the howling wind. The drifting smoke from the flames rose into the sky, obscuring the brilliant sunlight. Between the sky and the lake, there was now a somber darkness.
Xiulote once again stood tall on the high altar, greeted by the cheers of his trusted aides. Ters, holding a man-sized Great Shield, took the position of the Head Warrior, shielding him at the front. The Young Commander surveyed the noisy battlefield with his gaze, assessing the progress of the battle.
Directly ahead, the squadron led by Ospei had charged within thirty to forty steps, clashing violently with the Mexica Naval Forces' front line. The flag of the Crocodile Marshal flew high, with dozens of desperately rowed sturdy boats carrying the elite family samurai, breaking through barriers fiercely charging towards Black Wolf's flagship once more.