Moreover, the speed at which the enemies loaded and fired their guns was so fast that even seasoned soldiers struggled to keep up.
Surely they are just a rabble... surely they are nothing...
Yet they were strangely strong.
Although they didn't know it was due to Lexan shields and flintlock muskets, everyone felt that strange sensation. Despite overwhelmingly superior skill and numbers on their side, the enemy was somehow holding out.
This makes no sense.
They shouldn't even be able to hold out. When did those slaves ever receive military training?
That very fact that they could stand against seasoned soldiers who had rolled through Ireland, the Low Countries, and various places was unpleasant and difficult to comprehend.
"Francisco! Pull your soldiers back right now! Another company is advancing!"
"...Understood."
And the command seemed to be feeling such anomalies sufficiently as well.
