The torrential rain has been continuing for three days straight, even the sewage water is overflowing from the cedar boards.
On the slippery, muddy streets, every time the doors open, swarms of slimes can be seen crawling and rolling merrily on the stone bricks.
However, soon specialized artisans would arrive with temporarily hired laborers to capture all these slimes, skin them, extract tendons, and then use them as one of the raw materials for mortar.
It wasn't until the fourth day that the rain gradually lessened, the misty rain strands nonchalantly embraced the long dike, and it seemed a layer of transparent rain fuzz had grown on the bluish-gray stones.
Donning an oilcloth cloak and holding a barely effective oil-paper umbrella, Horn stood atop the dam, gazing at the lake water crashing against the long dike like ocean waves.
Though he held an umbrella, his body and face were covered in rainwater, causing his black hair to stick to the corners of his mouth.
