Dwargonia Vanguard Flotilla
The fog swallowed the world whole.
Inside the blinding white haze, sunlight faded into a dull, choking glow. It was impossible to see more than thirty meters ahead, shapes blurred into silhouettes, and silhouettes vanished entirely. Every ship in the Dwargonian vanguard moved at a crawling pace, afraid of ramming into each other. Their commander's last orders—to advance at full speed—never relayed. Their mana-comm systems were jammed, leaving them adrift in silence.
Blind.
Deaf.
Isolated.
Exactly what the Ravendawn wanted.
"Sir… should we turn on our foglamp?" one officer asked hesitantly.
"You idiot," the commander snapped immediately. "We do that, We'd be a lighthouse for the enemy! If we can't see them, they can't see us. That's how it works. We keep going forward until we're out of this cursed fog."
He hoped he sounded confident.
Inside, his stomach was twisting.
Then—
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
"Someone's firing!" an officer whispered.
Gunfire echoed somewhere ahead. Muzzle flashes cut through the mist in tiny, brief bursts of orange. The sound was distorted and directionless.
"One of our ships must've found a Ravendawn vessel," the commander snickered, seizing any hope he could. "Maintain course. We'll break through this fog and regroup."
But as they advanced, their confidence crumbled.
"DEBRIS AHEAD!"
A dim orange glow flickered ahead—fire. As the ship crept closer, the glowing wreckage became more visible. Not wooden debris. Steel.
A hull section. A chunk of steel plating. Charred dwarf bodies.
An officer stepped forward, horror crawling up his spine.
"S-SIR!" the officer stuttered. "It's—it's one of our own cruisers!"
"What—?" the commander's jaw dropped. "How the HELL does a steel cruiser get sunk by a goddamn sail ship!?"
Nobody answered.
Because nobody could.
BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM—
Another series of rapid-fire blasts echoed from somewhere deep in the mist.
"That's not our guns…" an officer whispered.
"And you finally noticed," the commander growled. "Listen to the rate of fire. None of our guns can shoot that fast. That's them. The Ravendawn devils."
"B-But how!?" the officer trembled. "How can they see us when we can't even see past the bow?!"
The commander clenched his teeth. He had no answer. None that he wanted to admit.
---
Ravendawn Gunship Squadron
Meanwhile, in the Ravendawn formation—
There was silence.
Perfect, disciplined silence.
The ship-mages stopped casting the wind spells. Continuing now would disperse the fog, which would be idiotic. Their greatest weapon was the blindness.
Every crew member stayed perfectly still, ears straining, breaths steady. Tense, but not afraid. They had trained for this. They were prepared for this.
No shouting.
No rushing footsteps.
Above the mast, a lookout crouched in the crow's nest— But these were no ordinary sailors. Strapped to his head was a Murican thermal goggle. To him, the fog wasn't a wall, it was a translucent curtain. Heat signatures glowed clearly through the haze.
Enemies: large shapes.
Friendlies: smaller, narrow frame.
Easy distinction.
He spotted a Dwargonian steam ship creeping toward their position. Its massive heat signature cut through the fog like a beacon. Based on its course, it would pass their starboard side in just a couple minutes.
He couldn't shout. Noise discipline was absolute. Luckily Ravendawn ships ran without engine noise, their sails muted, their crews trained to move silently.
He tapped his throat mic, whispering through the Murican walkie-talkie.
"Captain," he whispered, barely louder than a breath, "enemy contact approaching starboard side."
"Distance?" the captain whispered back.
"Sixty."
"Understood."
The captain switched channels. "Gunners, prepare starboard battery. Distance, sixty meters."
Below deck, weapon crews quietly adjusted all sixty-two Murican M3 37 mm anti-tank cannons. Every adjustment was made with deliberate, whispered precision. No clanging metal. No heavy stomps. Just quiet discipline.
Barrels angled. Breeches opened. Shells prepared.
Mage-crews kneeled beside each gunner, waiting for the sergeant's signal.
All eyes locked on the gunnery sergeant.
A faint buzz in his comm. The order came.
"Fuse to thirty seconds," the captain whispered.
The gunnery sergeant raised his fist, then flashed a hand signal: '30 seconds.'
Immediately all mages began softly chanting, enchanting each AP shell with a delayed explosive spell. The moment they finished, the weapon crews slid the shells into place.
The captain whispered again:
"Fire."
The sergeant inhaled.
"FIRE!"
It was the only moment anyone was allowed to be loud.
BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM—
Sixty-two anti-tank cannons unleashed hell. Flames lit the fog from within. Their AP rounds disappeared into the haze long before the sound faded.
A moment later—
THUNK THUNK THUNK THUNK THUNK—
Metal striking metal.
Dozens of impacts.
Then—
KABOOM KABOOM KABOOM KABOOM—
The enchanted shells detonated inside the Dwargonian steel hull, ripping open internal compartments, shredding equipment, and igniting anything combustible. Fires bloomed within the ship's guts, too deep and too many for the crew to extinguish.
The cruiser was engulfed in a chain of internal explosions, and great swarms of flame burst from every gap.
One volley.
One ship crippled beyond repair.
Another Admiral Lorenzo's signature idea—brilliant fusion of Murican weaponry and Ravendawn magic.
"Hit confirmed," the Ravendawn captain whispered calmly. "Helmsman, relocate. We hunt another."
"Aye, captain."
Silent as a phantom, the ship drifted away to reposition.
Leaving the Dwargonian ship with its crews screaming behind them.
The deadly game of maritime hide-and-seek continued.
---
Dwargonia Vanguard Flotilla
The commander's bridge felt like a tomb. Every officer's hands trembled. Sweat dripped onto metal consoles.
They had passed two more burning Dwargonian ships. And countless times, they heard Ravendawn guns firing—without a single Dwargonian return shot.
"Sir…" an officer whispered, voice cracking.
"We're being hunted."
BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM—
This time from the port side.
The commander's hands tightened around his armrest. "Damn them… damn those ghosts…"
Then—
"SIR! ONE OF OUR SHIPS IS TURNING ON ITS FOGLAMP!"
Through the fog, a faint beam of yellow light appeared—like a desperate lighthouse.
"Which idiot captain—!?"
But before he finished shouting, another Dwargonian ship lit its foglamp out of panic.
Panic was contagious.
Seeing one ship turn on its lamp—
Then another.
And another.
Fear spread faster in silence. In the blindness, rumors and panic were the real enemies.
Soon, several steel warships were shining bright pillars of light into the fog, desperate to see anything—friend or foe.
Fortunately, this panic projected to humans, not demons—so at least it doesn't trigger the goddess viruses inside them to multiply from emotional frenzy.
But the damage was done.
And fate struck.
A Ravendawn 124-gun ship sailed just close enough to be illuminated by the spreading beams.
"There! A sail ship! Gunner! AIM!"
The dwarves saw wood and their eyes widened.
"GUNNERS! AIM AT THAT SAIL SHIP!"
"READY!"
"FIRE!"
BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM—
Four Dwargonian shells tore through the fog.
KABOOOM!
One struck the Ravendawn ship, blasting the side with fire and splintered wood. The dwarves erupted in cheers.
"YEAAAH!! WE GOT THEM!"
But luck would only help them once.
All other Ravendawn ships kept farther away. Far enough that foglamps couldn't reach them—yet their own vision, enhanced by Murican tech, could see the bright lights perfectly.
The dwarves had turned themselves into a better targets.
---
Ravendawn Gunship Squadron
"FIRE!"
BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM—
KABOOM KABOOM—
A 64-gun ship fired its entire port battery toward the glowing foglamp sources. With clear thermal readings and bright visual markers, accuracy came easily. And Dwargonian ships, three to four times larger, were impossible to miss.
The enemies bigger size now is a disadvantage—
And it was annihilated.
---
Pentagon
Solo, Lilith, and Stan watched the battle unfold through satellite thermal imaging. The fog that blinded the dwarves did nothing to the satellite infrared.
Another Dwargonian destroyer blossomed with a muted, fiery bloom.
"Whoaaa…" Solo stared in awe.'
"Holy hell," he muttered. "We gave them outdated weapons and they're doing 'this'?"
Lilith leaned in. "Is that number nine? Or ten?"
Stan grinned. "Mmm… nine and a half. That one looks like it's still floating… barely."
Lilith nodded slowly. "Admiral Lorenzo is… exceptional."
Stan folded his arms, grinning. "Poaching him from Vandoria was a good decision."
"Ravendawn is fortunate to have Admiral Lorenzo," Lilith said, "He's terrifyingly professional."
"Meanwhile… our Admiral is…" Solo muttered.
On another monitor, Rusalka—Murica's fleet admiral—was visible on her flagship bridge, practically bouncing with excitement like a fangirl seeing her favorite boy band concert.
The trio sighed in unison.
---
Dwargonia Vanguard Flotilla
"CURSES!!" the commander roared. He slammed his fists into the armrest hard enough to dent it. "How are we LOSING to WOODEN SHIPS!?"
His bridge officers said nothing.
Humiliation weighed heavier than fear. A Dwargonian commander losing to sail ships—unthinkable.
But even rage couldn't blind him forever. He took a slow breath, steadying himself.
The screaming.
The burning.
The silence from half his formation.
He had to decide.
"Turn on our foglamp."
"For spotting the enemy, sir?" an officer asked hesitantly.
"No…" He covered his face with one hand, voice bitter. "Use it to signal the others. Tell all ships… to retreat."
The officer stared. Then saluted sharply.
"A-aye, sir!"
Humiliation burned the commander's pride, but he was still sane enough to recognize a slaughter.
Reason over pride. That was why he'd been given command.
---
Dwargonia Main Fleet, Super-Dreadnought Wavecrusher
From afar, the main fleet saw only a white, colossal pillar of smoke rising like a storm. Flashes flickered inside at random—some bright, some dim, all ominous. No one knew who was shooting.
Until—
"Sir! A ship is emerging from the fog!"
Admiral Durnick Axebreaker watched silently as one of his vanguard vessels limped out.
Then another.
And another.
Eight in total.
Only eight.
"Why are they retreating!?" the ship captain shouted. "What happened inside!?"
Durnick remained silent, eyes narrowing.
"Sir!" a comm officer cried. "We regained contact with the vanguard! Jamming range must've been limited!"
"Report," Durnick said quietly.
"T-they say the Ravendawn ships ambushed them… like ghosts."
"Ghosts!?" the captain barked. "Is that commander an idiot!?"
"…He's hot-headed," Durnick said. "But not an idiot. That means the Ravendawn fleet created a perfect kill-zone inside that fog."
"So… should we wait for the fog to clear before sending another wave?"
He adjusted his beard.
"Yes." Durnick nodded. "But in the meantime, deploy two squadrons of airships. We cannot allow their mechanical fleet to create another fog bank."
"Aye, sir!"
---
Ravendawn Main Fleet
The bridge of HMS Luxtor erupted in cheers. The enemy vanguard was retreating—proof that their plan worked flawlessly.
But then—
"Sir!" the comm officer called. "Murica reports Dwargonia start launching airship squadrons!"
Captain Rhines looked toward Admiral Lorenzo. "Orders, sir?"
Lorenzo straightened.
"Tell the Muricans we will begin the operation now."
"Aye, sir!"
---
Murican First Fleet
"Ma'am!" an officer saluted. "Ravendawn commander reports they're ready to begin."
Rusalka grinned, showing teeth. "ABOUT TIME! Watching them fight was great, but I've been WAITING to join the fun!"
"It really was an impressive performance," Captain Cetus added.
Rusalka cracked her knuckles.
"Very well. Now it's OUR turn." She pointed forward dramatically. "Commence Operation Puppeteer!"