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.
The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
“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.
---
Ravendawn Main Fleet, HMS Luxtor
“Sir, our gunships have entered enemy firing range,” an officer reported.
Captain Rhines nodded calmly.
“Then it’s our turn.”
He turned toward the gunnery crew.
“Prepare covering fire.”
“Aye, sir!”
Across the Ravendawn mechanical ships, steel turrets began to rotate.
Unlike their wooden counterparts, these vessels carried Murican-designed artillery.
Heavy guns.
And currently, every single one of them was pointing toward the ocean between the two fleets.
“READY!”
The gunners locked their targets.
“FIRE!” Rhines commanded.
BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM—
---
Dwargonia Vanguard Flotilla
“Commander! The Ravendawn mechanical ships are firing!” an officer shouted.
“What? They can’t even see us yet.” The commander frowned.
SPLASH!
SPLASH!
SPLASH!
Shell after shell crashed into the ocean between the two fleets.
Not near the Dwargonian ships.
Not even close.
Another Ravendawn salvo roared.
More splashes.
Then another.
And another.
For several seconds, no one spoke.
Then someone noticed it.
“…Sir.” The officer’s voice came out quieter. “Something is happening in the water…”
The commander focused his telescope again.
At every impact point—
Smoke.
At first it drifted lazily upward. Then more shells landed and more smoke erupted. The scattered plumes slowly connected. Merging and spreading.
“…What?” one officer muttered.
Within moments, the ocean between the fleets began filling with a growing wall of dense fog. White smoke rolled across the waves, expanding wider and thicker with every new splash.
“…No.” The commander’s eyes widened. “IT’S A FOG OF WAR!”
The commander slammed his fist on the railing.
“THEY’RE MAKING SMOKE COVER!”
“What!?” an officer shouted. “But we’re not even fighting on land!”
“GUNNERS!” the commander roared. “FIRE BEFORE WE LOSE SIGHT!”
Another Dwargonian volley thundered.
BOOM BOOM BOOM—
No hits.
The fog spread faster now. Thicker and darker.
Until finally—
A towering wall of white smoke stood between the two fleets, swallowing the entire battlefield.
The Ravendawn ships were gone completely.
---
Ravendawn Main Fleet, HMS Luxtor
“Smoke screen complete,” an officer reported.
Captain Rhines watched the massive fog bank rolling across the ocean.
“Good.” He nodded once. “Order maximum speed.”
---
Ravendawn Gunship Squadron
“MAXIMUM SPEED! GO!”
The order echoed across the squadron.
Wind mages raised their staffs and unleashed far more wind than any sane sailor would ever allow near a traditional mast.
Normally, that much magical wind would rip sails apart and snap wooden poles like twigs. But these masts weren’t normal. These were Murican alloy.
The massive 124-gun ships surged forward, pushing past 24 knots.
The lighter 64-gun ships accelerated even harder. 30 knots.
The entire squadron charged straight toward the towering wall of white fog ahead.
Within seconds—
The ships vanished into it.
---
Dwargonia Vanguard Flotilla
“Sir! Scout airship reports they’ve also lost visual! Smoke is too high!”
“DAMN IT!” the commander barked.
The commander then forced himself to calm down.
“Fine!” he growled. “If we cannot shoot them—we ram them!”
Officers straightened.
“All ships prepare to ram any wooden hull we encounter! Full speed ahead! Use mana-radar for positioning!”
“Aye, sir!”
Orders spread across the flotilla.
Engines roared louder as dwarven cruisers and destroyers pushed forward toward the fog bank.
But then—
“Commander…” The mana-radar officer’s voice trembled. “Our madar… stopped working.”
“…What?” He turned slowly. “What did you say?”
The dwarf marched across the bridge in heavy steps.
“What do you MEAN it’s not working!?”
The officer pointed helplessly at the display. The screen was empty. Completely blank.
“The signal disappeared, sir. It was working perfectly a moment ago…”
---
Ravendawn Gunship Squadron
Near the rear of the formation, one of the 64-gun ships looked slightly different.
Mounted above its deck sat a large parabolic antenna.
Inside the ship, several mages worked around humming machines and glowing crystal arrays—an experimental Ravendawn-Murican hybrid system.
Scrolls, cables, crystals, and metal panels covered every available surface.
The magical engineers were sweating.
A lead mage leaned back from the device with a long sigh.
“Finally…” She wiped her forehead. “Finding their mana-communication wavelength was a nightmare…”
Another mage rubbed his sore fingers.
“The Murican normal radar jammer doesn’t seem to have this kind of trouble.”
“It’s a prototype,” she replied flatly, adjusting a crystal socket. “Be grateful it works at all.”
The machine hummed louder as runes flickered across the control plate.
She glanced at a second crystal connected to the apparatus.
“Send all collected data back to base every two minutes.”
The assistant nodded quickly.
“If something happens to us—our data must survive.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
---
Murica First Fleet
“KYAAAAA!!! THAT’S SO COOL!!”
Admiral Rusalka sprinted across the bridge.
“RIGHT!? RIGHT, CETUS!? THIS IS AMAZING!”
Captain Cetus remained exactly where he was, hands behind his back, watching the monitors with a small, satisfied smile.
“I must admit,” he said calmly, “I did not expect him to deploy the smoke screen this early for such a maneuver. Very amusing indeed.”
On the screen, the satellite feed showed the fog wall swallowing the battlefield while Ravendawn ships disappeared inside it one by one.
Cetus chuckled quietly.
“I remember Admiral Lorenzo was very excited when I showed him old photographs of our aerial smoke-screen maneuvers.”
Rusalka leaned over the screen like a fan watching a sports replay.
“He asked many questions,” Cetus continued. “Quite enthusiastically, I might add. Like a child discovering a new toy.”
Another Ravendawn ship vanished into the fog.
“And now,” Cetus finished, “he is using the concept rather skillfully.”
Rusalka suddenly spun around and grabbed his shoulders.
“WHY HAVE I NEVER MET THIS MAN!?”
Cetus blinked.
“…Pardon?”
“THIS IS MY KIND OF ADMIRAL!” she shouted. “LOOK AT HIM! SMOKE! SPEED! CONFUSION! THIS IS ART!”
Cetus coughed politely.
“With all due respect, ma’am… You never attend alliance officer gatherings,” Cetus said evenly. “You always say it’s full of old men.’”
“…Ah.”
---
Dwargonia Main Fleet
Far behind the vanguard flotilla, the super-dreadnought Wavecrusher carved through the sea like a floating mountain of iron.
From the command deck, Admiral Durnick Axebreaker watched the distant ocean through a long brass telescope.
On the horizon—
A massive wall of white smoke continued to expand across the water.
“Admiral,” the ship captain reported. “We suddenly lost all communication with the vanguard. Technicians are checking for malfunctions.”
Durnick lowered the telescope slowly.
“In battle,” he said sternly, “one must assume every malfunction is caused by the enemy.”
The captain hesitated.
“Do you believe… the Ravendawn possess the ability to disable our mana-communication?” He glanced at the silent communication crystal. “Even the Silverfist and Bluespire clans are still researching that kind of technology.”
The admiral’s gaze remained fixed on the fog.
“…It is either Ravendawn,” he said quietly. “Or Murica.”
The final silhouette of the vanguard fleet disappeared into the white void.
Durnick’s eyes hardened.
---
Ravendawn Main Fleet
“Sir,” a communications officer reported, “both our sail ships and the Dwargonia vanguard have entered the fog zone.”
Captain Rhines nodded.
“Good. The plan proceeds.”
Around them, the Ravendawn mechanical fleet maintained formation behind the smoke wall, their steel hulls steady on the water.
Admiral Lorenzo stood at the center of the bridge, hands folded behind his back. He stared into the fog-covered horizon without blinking.
“Your battle plan has been flawless so far, Admiral,” Rhines said respectfully.
Lorenzo did not respond immediately as his gaze remained locked on the fog bank.
“Now,” he said quietly, “we will see if their training holds on a real battlefield.”
Beyond the smoke-choked horizon—
The Ravendawn gunships moved like ghosts through the fog.
Hunting dwarven giants made of steel.
