The scenery outside the window was no longer a wasteland or sparse grass, but a vast, boundless green prairie.
In the distance was a large lake; the water shimmered with a silvery-white light under the morning sun, looking like a giant mirror embedded in the grasslands.
There were tents by the lake, herds of horses, and curls of cooking smoke rising into the air.
The tents were sewn from cowhide, low and rounded in shape, with various colored flags planted on top.
People on horseback wove between the tents, wearing leather armor with scimitars at their waists and bows and arrows on their backs.
Kagashi’s eyes narrowed.
Grasslands.
Nomadic tribes.
An era of war.
The system notification sounded behind him.
[Ding!]
[The train is about to stop.]
[Current World: Ancient · Hegemony of the Grasslands.]
[Stop Duration: 12 hours.]
Twelve hours—not exactly long, but not short either.
If he just hid on the train, the time would pass without him being able to do anything.
But if utilized properly, it was enough to accomplish a lot.
Hopefully nothing abnormal happens this time; I’m still in the newbie protection period!
He walked out of the Train Conductor’s office into the meeting and dining area, where the four girls were already awake.
Clearly, the grasslands had awakened more than just Kagashi.
Roxy stood by the window, staff in hand, her brow slightly furrowed.
She was the first to wake up, having already finished her daily morning routine.
Misaka Mikoto was awake, and Yoshino was up too, holding Yoshinon.
Furina leaned against the carriage window; for once, she hadn’t slept in, though her top hat was perched crookedly on her head.
“Is that…
an army?” Furina’s voice was a bit tight, carrying the huskiness of someone who had just woken up.
“Nomadic cavalry.” Kagashi walked over to the window.
Kagashi stared out the window; those cavalrymen didn’t seem to have noticed this train that had appeared out of thin air yet.
People were moving to and fro among the tents; some were slaughtering sheep, some were portioning meat, and others were tending to saddles.
The faint scent of roasting meat drifted through the air.
By the distant lakeshore, several women were drawing water, dipping wooden buckets into the lake and hauling them back up.
“What a huge lake,” Misaka Mikoto said.
“We won’t have to worry about water.”
“Whether we can get close to it is another matter,” Kagashi said.
The rhythm of the hoofbeats suddenly changed.
It was no longer a disorganized rumble, but a steady, purposeful sound.
Kagashi saw a few men on tall horses gathered in the center of the camp, pointing toward the train. Find the original chapter at novelping.com.
“We’ve been spotted,” Roxy said softly.
A man wearing ornate leather armor and a wolf-skin hat reined in his horse at the front.
He stared at the train for a few seconds, then drew the scimitar from his waist and held it high.
He shouted something, but they were too far away to hear clearly.
The camp instantly sprang into motion.
Riders vaulted onto their horses, scimitars were unsheathed, and bows were strung.
Someone blew a horn, its low blare echoing across the grasslands.
Kagashi took a deep breath.
“Prepare to disembark.”
The four girls looked at him simultaneously.
“Get off?” Furina’s eyes widened.
“It’s full of cavalry out there!
Scimitars!
Bows!
And you’re going down?”
He paused.
“The water is right by the lake, and the meat is right in front of us.”
“Besides, twelve hours will pass in a flash.
If we don’t get off the train, we won’t get anything.”
The carriage fell silent for a moment.
Misaka Mikoto stood up and pinned her Gekota badge to her collar.
“I’m going with you.”
Roxy gripped her staff, the gem at its tip glowing with a silvery-white light.
“Me too.”
“We’re coming too.”
Kagashi pressed the button.
The train doors slowly opened, and the wind of the grasslands rushed in, carrying the scent of green grass, earth, the saltiness of the lake, and the aroma of roasted meat.
That aroma was ten times stronger than what they had smelled through the window; Furina’s stomach gave an undignified growl.
In the distance, the horn blasts grew more urgent, and the sound of hoofbeats drew closer.
Kagashi was the first to step off the train.
As he stood on the prairie, the grass reached his ankles.
The four girls followed behind him, lining up on either side.
Opposite them, dozens of warhorses had formed a line, their scimitars glinting coldly in the sunlight.
The man in the wolf-skin hat at the lead trotted forward a few paces, pulled back on the reins, and looked down at Kagashi from his mount.
He pointed his scimitar at Kagashi and said something in a language they couldn’t understand.
Kagashi shook his head. Enjoying the story? Read on at g.com.
The man frowned and switched to another language; it was still unintelligible.
He tried yet another, but still nothing.
The man’s expression darkened, and he slowly raised his scimitar.
Kagashi raised his right hand, palm forward.
A gesture to stop.
Then he pointed to himself, then to the train, then to the grasslands beneath his feet, spreading his hands to show they meant no harm.
The man stared at him for a few seconds.
He didn’t lower his scimitar, but he didn’t strike either.
His gaze shifted from Kagashi to the four girls behind him, and his brow furrowed even deeper.
Then he saw the glowing staff in Roxy’s hand.
His eyes widened suddenly, and he almost dropped his scimitar.
The cavalrymen behind him also grew restless; some reined their horses back, while others raised their bows.
“Magic,” Roxy said softly.
“This world might have legends of magic, but they’ve never seen the real thing.”
Kagashi thought quickly.
They only had twelve hours; there was no time for slow negotiations.
He pointed to Roxy’s staff, then pointed to the sky, signaling for her to give a demonstration.
Roxy understood.
She raised her staff, and the tip lit up with an orange-red glow.
A fireball shot into the sky and exploded, blooming like an orange-red flower.
The grasslands instantly fell silent.
Over a hundred warhorses neighed simultaneously, and some riders were nearly thrown from their mounts.
The man in the wolf-skin hat reined in his startled horse.
His scimitar fell to the ground, and his mouth hung open wide enough to fit a fist.
Watching his reaction, the corners of Kagashi’s mouth curled up slightly.
The first step of communication was a success.
If not for magic, other survivors would likely have been attacked directly, ending with their trains destroyed and everyone dead.
The man in the wolf-skin hat was the first to snap out of it.
He dismounted—a gesture of equal respect in nomadic etiquette.
He sheathed his scimitar, crossed his hands over his chest, bowed slightly, and said something.
This time, his tone was no longer hostile, but filled with inquiry and awe.
Kagashi didn’t understand the words, but he understood the gesture.
It might not seem tempting right nobut who knows what the future holds?
“And If you’re enjoying it, drop a Power Stone for me!”