
You continue to sneak down the corridor, your armored footfalls resonating softly against the metal floor plates. Stars stare at you through the floor-to-ceiling windows that line the outer wall, like the eyes of your ancestors watching over you.
"We're wasting time," spits Toyotomi. "There may be survivors in the temple who need our help."
Suddenly, sounds of fighting echo down the corridor: grunts, shouts, pained cries, and innumerable footsteps pounding against the floor.