500 Kilometers From the Tri-Border Ocean
The ocean breathed in slow, steady rhythm beneath the Murican First Fleet. Waves rolled under the ships with patient rises and falls, the quiet pulse of early dawn stretching across the sea.
Far beyond the formations of Ravendawn and Dwargonia fleets, the unmistakable silhouette of HMS Bahamut—Murica's prideful aircraft carrier—rested on the horizon.
Her vast flight deck glimmered under the morning light. The command tower rose above it like a watchful sentinel, calmly overseeing the unfolding situation.
Inside the bridge, Admiral Rusalka had claimed the captain's seat for herself.
She lounged in it with complete lack of ceremony, lazily enjoying a lollipop while Captain Cetus stood beside her with the rigid posture of a man who had long ago accepted this was simply how things worked.
Both of them watched the progress of the two foreign fleets through the bridge displays.
Around them, Murican officers worked with quiet efficiency. Consoles hummed softly. Radar screens pulsed. Orders traveled in calm, controlled tones.
Then—
"Ma'am."
A radar officer stood up.
"Dwargonia has dispatched a small contingent toward the Ravendawn position."
"Very well," Rusalka replied, casually twirling the lollipop against her lips. "Contact Admiral Lorenzo. Request him to begin the operation."
"Aye, ma'am."
The officer hurried off to relay the message.
Rusalka leaned back in the chair and exhaled a long, dramatic sigh.
Cetus glanced down at her.
"Are you alright, Admiral?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." She waved a hand lazily. "Just… I miss the old days."
Cetus said nothing. That sentence could lead anywhere.
Rusalka stared wistfully toward the tactical display.
"Back then you could taunt enemy commanders before battle," she continued. "Real psychological warfare."
She sat up slightly and began counting on her fingers.
"You know—Your fleet looks like a floating toolbox. Or—Yo mama so ugly she got a beard." She paused, clearly proud. "I prepared so many insults specifically for fighting dwarfs."
Cetus stared forward with professional stillness.
"I highly doubt you will ever get the chance to do that again, ma'am."
Rusalka's shoulders sagged.
"…You're right."
She stared into the distance with the expression of someone mourning a lost era.
"Time keeps changing. Can't even show demon presence anymore." She sucked on the lollipop thoughtfully. "Shame. Those were good times."
To distract herself, she looked up at one of the monitors showing a live feed of a Ravendawn warship cutting through the sea.
The vessel's steel hull cut cleanly through the waves. Its silhouette was sleek, powerful.
Rusalka's expression softened. "Still can't believe Monstro is back in the water again."
"Her name is HMS Luxtor now," Cetus corrected calmly. "But I agree."
His gaze lingered on the screen.
"Seeing my old ship moving like that again… it warms the heart."
Rusalka chuckled quietly. "I hope her new owners treat her well."
Before Cetus could respond, the communications officer rushed back into the bridge.
"Ma'am! The Ravendawn command refuses to begin the operation!"
Rusalka blinked.
"They say the enemy vanguard is too small. They will handle it themselves."
Rusalka froze mid-chew.
"…Excuse me?" Her eyebrow twitched slightly. "Is that old man getting overconfident because he has a steel battleship now?"
"I don't think it's arrogance." Cetus shook his head calmly. "I trained with their admiral personally. Admiral Lorenzo is extremely disciplined. Reasonable. Adaptable."
Rusalka leaned back again and studied the satellite feed of the Dwargonian vanguard flotilla.
Small.
A probing force.
For a few seconds she simply watched.
Then she nodded slowly.
"Well… I suppose he's right." She shrugged lightly. "Too early to reveal ourselves for such a small force."
"If I may suggest, ma'am… " Cetus allowed himself a small grin, "This might be a good opportunity to see how capable the Ravendawn fleet has become."
Rusalka groaned dramatically, but she waved a hand anyway.
"Fine… fine." She settled deeper into the chair. "Let's watch the show."
---
Ravendawn Main Fleet, HMS Luxtor
Inside the bridge of the Ravendawn flagship, Admiral Lorenzo stood at the center command platform. His presence carried the quiet authority of a man used to command at sea. Calm. Focused. Precise.
Outside the bridge windows, the Ravendawn fleet waited in formation. Wooden warships and newly built steel vessels alike stood ready beneath the rising sun.
A communications officer stepped forward and saluted.
"Sir! The Murican fleet has gone into standby."
"Understood." Lorenzo gave a small nod.
He turned his gaze toward Captain Rhines.
"As the Muricans say…" A faint hint of amusement touched his voice. "The stage is yours."
Rhines stepped forward with restrained pride. "Thank you, sir."
He turned to the bridge officers.
"Signal the gunship squadron." He raised a hand toward the horizon. "Advance and intercept the Dwargonian vanguard."
"Aye sir!"
The moment the order left his lips, the Ravendawn sail ships broke formation.
Sails unfurled. Hull after hull surged forward toward the approaching enemy.
---
Dwargonia Vanguard Flotilla
Ten steel cruisers and five destroyers tore across the waves, their engines roaring with the stubborn strength of Dwargonian engineering. Thick black smoke poured from their chimneys. Metal hulls cut through the sea like blunt instruments of industry.
"Commander! Scout airship reports the Ravendawn fleet has begun advancing!"
The dwarven commander leaned forward.
"How many ships?"
"Thirty-seven! All sails! No steel!"
For a moment there was silence, then the commander exploded into laughter.
"BAHAHAHAHA!" His booming voice filled the bridge. "They think wooden ships can take ours?!"
He slapped the railing with amusement.
"I thought their Murican friends taught them better naval doctrine!"
Several officers allowed themselves small grins.
"All vanguard ships—maintain course." The commander waved a dismissive hand. "Swat them aside as we pass."
He pointed toward the horizon.
"Our target is the Ravendawn mechanical fleet." A confident grin spread across his face. "We'll show them what real Dwargonian engineering looks like!"
"Aye, sir!"
---
Ravendawn Main Fleet, HMS Luxtor
"Order the gunship squadron to increase their speed," Captain Rhines commanded.
"Aye, Captain!"
---
Ravendawn Gunship Squadron
Wind mages stood ready on every deck. Robed figures positioned themselves along the railings, staffs planted firmly against the wooden planks.
"INCREASE SPEED!" each ship captain shouted.
At once, the ship mages began chanting. Layers of wind magic gathered around the fleet. Invisible currents surged forward and slammed into the sails.
Admiral Lorenzo had spent the last year quietly modernizing the Ravendawn navy. Every outdated war vessel had been upgraded using Murican materials.
The wooden masts that once cracked under strong winds had been replaced with lightweight metal alloys. Stronger. Lighter. Capable of enduring far greater stress.
The sails themselves were no longer traditional cloth. They were now made from modern fabric—dacron—capable of surviving storms that would normally tear sails apart like wet paper.
The result was… noticeable. Wind roared across the formation. Sails expanded to their limits, and the fleet surged forward.
What had once been a modest sailing ships now moved with a speed that felt almost unnatural.
---
Bashington DC, Pentagon
Inside the Pentagon command center, three figures watched the live satellite feed.
Solo leaned forward slightly, squinting at the screen.
"So that's why the Ravendawn begged us for discounts on aluminum and dacron."
Lilith didn't look away from the monitor.
"Well, we got it from their natural resources though," she replied calmly. "We just processed it into finished products."
Stan let out a quiet, dark chuckle behind them. "Kukuku… That Ravendawn commander is quite something."
For a moment the three simply watched the advancing ships. Then Stan turned toward them.
"You know both of you could just watch this from the Black House, right?"
Lilith calmly took another sip of her cola without turning around. "Someone has to make sure a certain ancient demon stays in his office like he was told."
"…Guh." Stan froze.
---
Dwargonia Vanguard Flotilla
The vanguard commander stared at the mana-radar, his brow slowly tightening.
"How are they moving that fast…?"
"Commander! Ravendawn has entered our horizon—we have visual!" an officer reported.
The dwarf lifted his telescope. Through the lens, the Ravendawn ships came into view.
Wooden warships. Dozens of them. And they were cutting through the ocean far faster than any traditional sailing vessel had the right to.
They moved in formation, slicing across the waves like hunting beasts charging toward prey.
The commander lowered his telescope with a grunt.
"Hmph. Doesn't matter." He folded one arm behind his back. "Even if they're a bit faster, outdated ships break with one hit."
"All ships! Aim at the enemy!" His hand rose sharply.
Across the flotilla, steel turrets rotated.
Gun barrels elevated together with heavy mechanical groans.
"FIRE!"
BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM!
The first Dwargonian salvo thundered across the ocean.
Shells screamed through the sky—
—and splashed harmlessly into the water far ahead of the Ravendawn formation.
The commander didn't even blink. First salvo always for measuring.
"Recalculating!" the weapons officer shouted.