Ravendawn Gunship Squadron
"FIRE!"
BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM—
A Ravendawn 64-gun ship unleashed its entire port battery toward the glowing foglamp sources.
KABOOM KABOOM—
With clear thermal readings and bright visual markers, aiming required very little guesswork.
And Dwargonian steel ships—three to four times larger than Ravendawn vessels—were nearly impossible to miss.
The enemy's larger size, once considered their greatest strength had now become a disadvantage.
And moments later, the illuminated Dwargonian ship was annihilated.
---
Pentagon
Solo, Lilith, and Stan watched the battle unfold from the Pentagon's command room, staring at a wall of satellite thermal images.
The thick fog choking the battlefield blinded the dwarves completely, but not to orbital infrared satellites.
Another Dwargonian destroyer suddenly bloomed on the screen—its heat signature flaring violently as explosions tore through the hull.
"Whoaaa…" Solo leaned closer to the monitor, eyes wide.
"Holy hell…" he muttered. "We gave them outdated weapons and they're doing this?"
Lilith tilted her head, counting the wrecks glowing across the map.
"Is that number nine?" she asked slowly. "Or ten?"
Stan squinted.
"Mmm… nine and a half," he said. "That one looks like it's still floating."
A small explosion flickered on the screen.
"…Barely."
Lilith nodded thoughtfully. "Admiral Lorenzo is… exceptional."
"Poaching him from Vandoria was a very good decision." Stan crossed his arms, clearly pleased with himself.
"Ravendawn is fortunate to have Admiral Lorenzo," Lilith agreed. "He's terrifyingly professional."
Solo rubbed his forehead.
"Meanwhile… our Admiral is…"
They all look toward another monitor.
On it, Murica's Fleet Admiral—Rusalka—stood on her flagship bridge.
She was not calmly directing fleets. She was practically bouncing in place with excitement, clapping her hands while watching the Ravendawn ships fire.
The energy resembled a fangirl watching her favorite boy band perform live.
Solo, Lilith, and Stan stared. Then all three sighed at the same time.
---
Dwargonia Vanguard Flotilla
"CURSES!!" The commander roared. "How are we LOSING to WOODEN SHIPS!?"
No one on the bridge answered as humiliation filled the room heavier than the fog outside.
A Dwargonian fleet losing to sail ships. It was the kind of disgrace that ended careers… if the commander survived long enough to have one.
But rage only lasted so long before reality forced its way in.
The commander slowly inhaled then exhaled. Beyond the hull, faint sounds carried through the fog.
Screaming.
Burning metal.
Explosions somewhere in the distance.
And worst of all—
Silence.
Too many ships in his formation had stopped reporting. He closed his eyes for a moment. Then made his decision.
"Turn on our foglamp."
An officer blinked.
"For spotting the enemy, sir?"
"No."
The commander covered his face with one hand, his voice heavy with bitterness.
"Use it to signal the others."
He lowered his hand and stared at the glowing map of his dying formation.
"Tell all ships…"
He paused.
"…to retreat."
The officer froze for a heartbeat. Then snapped into a salute.
"A-aye, sir!"
Humiliation burned in the commander's chest. But even now, pride had not completely consumed his judgment. He could still recognize a slaughter when he saw one. He chose reason over pride.
That was why he had been given command in the first place.
---
Dwargonia Main Fleet, Super Dreadnought Wavecrusher
From the safety of the main fleet formation, the dwarves could only watch the fog bank from afar.
A colossal white pillar of smoke rose into the sky, thick enough to swallow entire warships. Inside the fog, flashes of light flickered constantly—some bright, some faint, all unsettling.
Gunfire.
Explosions.
Something violent was happening in there.
The problem was… nobody outside the fog had the slightest idea who was shooting whom.
Then—
"Sir! A ship is emerging from the fog!"
Admiral Durnick Axebreaker stood on the bridge of the super-dreadnought Wavecrusher, watching silently as a Dwargonian cruiser crawled out of the white haze.
The ship was barely recognizable.
Its steel hull was blackened with burn scars. One turret hung twisted and useless. Smoke poured from half a dozen wounds in its armor.
Then another ship emerged.
And another.
And another.
Eight.
Only eight.
The captain of the Wavecrusher leaned forward in disbelief.
"Why are they retreating!?" he barked. "What happened inside that fog!?"
Durnick didn't answer. His eyes narrowed as the battered ships limped back toward the fleet like wounded animals.
Then—
"Sir!" a communications officer shouted. "We regained contact with the vanguard! The jamming must have limited range!"
"Report," Durnick said calmly.
The officer swallowed.
"T-they report that Ravendawn ships ambushed them… like ghosts."
"Ghosts!? Is that commander drunk!?" The captain shouted.
"…He is hot-headed," Durnick said slowly. "But he is not an idiot."
The bridge quieted.
Durnick stroked his beard thoughtfully as he stared into the massive fog bank.
"That means the Ravendawn fleet created a perfect kill-zone inside that fog."
The captain frowned.
"So… should we wait for the fog to clear before sending another wave?"
Durnick considered for a moment.
Then nodded.
"Yes."
His hand slid down his beard as he continued watching the mist.
"But in the meantime… deploy two squadrons of airships." He pointed toward the fog. "We cannot allow their mechanical fleet to create another fog bank."
The communications officer saluted immediately.
"Aye, sir!"
---
Ravendawn Main Fleet
The bridge of HMS Luxtor erupted into cheers.
The comm reported that the surviving Dwargonian ships were retreating from the fog bank. Their once-tight vanguard formation had dissolved into a ragged line of wounded vessels.
Proof that the ambush had worked perfectly.
But the celebration lasted only a few seconds.
"Sir!" the communications officer called out. "Murican command reports Dwargonia has begun launching airship squadrons!"
Captain Rhines turned toward the man standing beside him.
"Orders, Admiral?"
Admiral Lorenzo straightened his uniform. His expression remained perfectly calm.
"Tell the Muricans," he said, "that we will begin the operation now."
The officer nodded.
"Aye, sir!"
---
Murican First Fleet
"Ma'am!" an officer saluted sharply. "Ravendawn command reports they're ready to begin."
On the flagship bridge, Admiral Rusalka slowly turned around. Her grin showed far too many teeth.
"ABOUT TIME!" She clap her hand. "Watching them fight was great, but I've been WAITING to join the fun!"
Captain Cetus, standing nearby, nodded politely.
"It truly was an impressive performance."
Rusalka stretched her shoulders.
"Very well." She pointed dramatically toward the battlefield. "Now it's OUR turn."
Her grin widened.
"Commence Operation Puppeteer!"