Dwargonia Main Fleet
The Dwargonia main fleet held its formation above the open ocean, an iron continent floating in the sky. Massive airships hovered in layered ranks, their stone-reinforced hulls etched with runes and national sigils, enhanced steam engines humming in a steady, reassuring rhythm.
Then the formation changed.
A dozen airships eased forward from the main line, drifting several ship-lengths ahead of their brethren. At first, the maneuver looked routine—until the underside of those vessels came into view.
These were not ordinary airships.
Something hung beneath them.
Metallic clamps disengaged with a thunderous clack. Heavy shapes dropped free, plunging toward the sea in silence.
For a heartbeat, gravity claimed them.
Then wings snapped open.
Engines ignited, and the falling objects surged forward instead of down.
Airplanes.
Bronze-colored aircraft roared to life, streaking forward in tight formations. At first glance, they looked eerily similar to WWII-era fighter planes from Earth—sleek fuselages, narrow wings, and aggressive silhouettes. But instead of propellers, these aircraft ran on dwarven steam-engine marvels: reinforced engines with iron chimneys that spewed thick black smoke behind the cockpit.
A marvel of dwarven engineering.
WHIIIIIRRRRR—
The sound rolled outward, a shrill mechanical scream that cut cleanly through cannon fire and wind alike.
---
Murica First Fleet, HMS Bahamut
Admiral Rusalka leaned forward, eyes narrowed at the live feed projected from the Murican reconnaissance aircraft. The image showed the Dwargonian fighters accelerating into tight formation, smoke trails slicing across the sky.
Admiral Rusalka stared at the live feed in silence for a long second.
"…How the hell did we miss 'that'?" she asked.
Captain Cetus folded his arms, brow furrowed as he analyzed the data.
Captain Cetus exhaled slowly. "Well, Admiral… Dwargonia doesn't exactly publish military exposés. No open runways, no surface factories. Everything they build is underground."
"Hmph," Rusalka muttered. "They really are paranoid mole people."
She leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing. "Question is—do those things fight like our P-51s?"
Cetus tilted his head, watching a fighter peel off and accelerate.
"Hard to say. They're pretty fast, but maneuverability remains unknown."
She straightened. "How long until our birds arrive?"
An officer checked his console. "ETA fifteen minutes until our aircraft reach the battlefield, ma'am."
She exhaled slowly. "Relay that to Ravendawn."
"Aye."
---
Ravendawn Wyvern Squadron
"INCOMING PLANES!"
The warning ripped through the comm just as the bronze fighters burst through the clouds.
"They weren't in the briefing!" a rider shouted.
"No one said they had aircraft!"
Wyverns reared and twisted in the air, riders struggling to keep formation as the unfamiliar threat bore down on them.
The squadron captain—one of the few veterans who had been around even before Vandorian war—forced himself to stay calm. He scanned the sky, quickly reading the new enemies.
He watched the planes approach—fast, straight, disciplined. Their movement was nothing like wyverns or griffins. No circling. No testing feints. Just direct vectors and controlled spacing.
"New orders!" he barked into the comm. "STOP destroying the airships!"
Several riders hesitated. "Sir?"
"We use them instead for cover and maneuvering." The captain continued "Think of them like Murican planes! They move fast and straight. These dwarven ones likely do the same. We use verticality. Hide behind hulls. Force them to overshoot."
A pause.
"But sir," another rider said nervously, "Murican planes are terrifyingly fast and outrange us."
"…Then let's hope these ones aren't Murican-grade terrifying."
With new orders, the wyvern squadron scattered, breaking into smaller elements. Riders dove between airships, hugging hulls and slipping through smoke and debris as cannons fired wildly around them.
The Dwargonian cannons struggled at this range. Their elevation and traverse weren't built for targets weaving meters from their hulls.
"HERE THEY COME!"
The fighters screamed in.
Zap. Zap. Zap. Zap. Zap.
Lances of energy stitched through the air, searing lines of light snapping past wyverns mid-turn.
BOOM—BOOM—BOOM!
Several wyverns failed to reach cover in time. Their bodies were torn apart mid-air, lifeless forms spiraling down into the ocean below.
Another was clipped, spiraled, and fell burning toward the sea.
The sky grew crowded with smoke, debris, and falling bodies.
---
Dwargonia Main Fleet, Super-Dreadnought Wavecrusher
"Admiral, our fighters have engaged the wyvern squadrons."
Admiral Durnick watched the sky with narrowed eyes fixed on the chaotic ballet above. Bronze fighters darted through drifting wreckage, energy beams flaring as wyverns died one by one.
The bridge crew cheered.
Durnick did not. Something else troubled him.
His gaze slid downward.
The fog.
It should have thinned by now. Sunlight should have eaten away at it. Instead, it remained—wide, dense, and stubbornly opaque.
Too consistent.
"…Status of the madar jammer?" he asked.
"Still active, sir. We have no contact with units near the fog perimeter."
Durnick's fingers tightened against the railing. "Dispatch scout airships. Wide circle. Avoid the jammer zone. Find out what their mechanical fleet is doing."
"Aye, sir."
---
Meridinia Alliance, Caravin
"HAHAHAHA!"
King Cassemir's laughter echoed through the chamber as he watched the mana-comm projection of the battlefield.
"It's really happening!" he roared. "They are fighting!"
"The Ravendawn are more capable than expected," Camael admitted, arms crossed.
"They'll still be overwhelmed," Sachiel said smoothly. "Numbers favor Dwargonia."
"But the Muricans still haven't shown themselves," Camael pointed out.
Cassemir waved dismissively. "Doesn't matter. War has begun. Nothing stops it now."
Sachiel smiled faintly. "Indeed, Your Majesty."
"Watching this gets my blood pumping!" He turned to his serfs. "Bring me paper and quill!"
"For what purpose, Your Majesty?"
"My declaration of war," the king said, eyes gleaming. "I always enjoy writing these myself."
---
Hearthguard Cairn, Oakenbrew Mansion
Far from the battlefield, another audience watched with satisfaction.
Priestess Gabrielle watched the battle unfold through the mana-comm crystal, her lips curved in a thin smile.
"Impressive machines," she said.
Calgirra Oakenbrew inclined his head. "A relatively recent innovation. We began development forty years ago."
Gabrielle's eyes hardened.
"But still heathen technology," she replied. "The goddess favors magic and labor—not machines."
"My apologies, Priestess," Calgirra said automatically. "It strays from her teachings."
She smiled thinly.
"You have strayed for too long," Gabrielle said. "We will guide you back. And punish those who resist."
"Thank you for your mercy, priestess" Calgirra replied, voice hollow.
---
Ravendawn Wyvern Squadron
A Dwargonian airship cannon roared, shells screaming past a wyvern's flank.
Then something massive slammed down beside it. A wyvern clung to it.
Its talon wrapped around the cannon barrel, crushing metal with bone-snapping force. The weapon jammed uselessly as the wyvern clung to the airship's hull. The wyvern and its rider need the spot to wait for their real target.
A fighter streaked past the airship's flank.
The rider waited.
Counted.
Then—
He yanked the rein, push the wyvern to lunge outwards, blocking the fighter path.
The pilot twisted hard, barely avoiding collision.
But then—
Fire erupted from its jaw.
FWOOOOSH—
The wyvern firebreath engulfed the aircraft's wing. The fighter spiraled downward, trailing smoke, before finally vanishing into the ocean below.
"SPLASH ONE!" the rider called
But the victory was fleeting.
The fighters were too fast to chase. Too disciplined to bait. The wyverns survived by hovering, darting, hiding behind what little cover remained.
And the airships were dwindling. There was less cover every minute.
"Captain," a rider said, voice strained, "There are too many of them, we're running out of places to hide."
The captain scanned the battlefield. Wreckage drifted. Smoke burned the lungs.
"Mother Goose," he said into the comm. "How long?"
"Five minutes," came the reply.
He sees the fog was closer now, rolling beneath them like a living thing.
"…Hold position," he said. "We buy them time."
---
Inside the fog, Ravendawn gunship squadron moved like ghosts, and yet worked relentlessly with their second objectives. Maintaining the fog.
The crews rolled enchanted barrels overboard at regular intervals.
Thirty seconds later—pop.
Enchanted compounds reacted with seawater, blooming into fresh waves of thick white smoke. Thickening the fog anew.
"KEEP THEM COMING!" the captain shouted. No more need for noise discipline, there are no enemies inside the fog. At least for now.
"Captain! Message from Mother Goose!" the comm officer yelled. "They want it wider!"
The captain nodded and talked to his comm. "Endurance, drift more to the left. Endeavor, to the right. We are stretching the curtain!"
"Aye, commander." The comm replies
The fog then grew broader and denser.
---
Ravendawn Main Fleet, HMS Luxtor
From the bridge, Admiral Lorenzo watched the smoke wall expand inch by inch.
"What's the Murican status?" he asked.
"They're in position, Admiral." One officer replied.
He closed his eyes briefly.
Lorenzo nodded. "…Captain Rhines."
"Sir?"
"I think it's time to move."
"Understood."The captain replies. "All ships! Advance! Twenty knots!"
Engines rumbled. Steel hulls cut through water. The Ravendawn modernized are now moving.
---
Dwargonia Main Fleet, Super-Dreadnought Wavecrusher
"OUR FIGHTER JUST KILLED ANOTHER WYVERN!"
"YEAAAAHH!"
Another wyvern fell. Cheers echoed across the bridge.
But Admiral Durnick didn't join them. He becoming restless seeing the fog presence that becoming wider and closer than thirty minutes before.
"Ask for report from our scout," he demanded.
"Aye, sir!" The comm officer replied
After a few minutes, the officer turned pale. "Ravendawn mechanical fleet advancing, sir."
"…Heading?"
"…Directly toward the fog."
Durnick's blood ran cold. The realization settled heavily in his chest.
"ALL SHIPS—BATTLE STATIONS!" he roared. "PREPARE FOR LONG-RANGE ENGAGEMENT!"
"But sir—we can't see them and they can't see us" the captain asked.
Durnick's voice dropped. "They can see us."
Silence followed.
"Scramble all scouts," he added quietly. "They have eyes somewhere in the sky."
"A-AYE, SIR!"
What the dwarf's Admiral said was correct. Their enemies have eyes in the sky. Only they don't know how far they can see.
---
9,000 Meters Above Ground
The Murican E-2C Hawkeye circled silently, it has been there since the beginning. Below it, the world moved like a board game.
The crew are watching every movement on the battlefield, and update it to the Ravendawn command through radio.
"Mother Goose," an observer said calmly. "You're at firing position."
"Copy, Dark Moon."
Meanwhile at another screen—Four AC-130 Hercules can be seen entered the airspace.
"This is Dark Moon to Poltergeist squadron," the observer said, "you have entered the perimeter. Standby for orders"
"Copy that Dark Moon," the comm replies.
"All players ready," the mission lead confirmed.
---
Ravendawn Wyvern Squadron
"ALL WYVERNS—DISENGAGE!" The captain bark through the comm, "WE'RE DONE HERE! RETURN TO THE FOG!"
"COPY THAT!"
"Oh, finally…"
Relief flooded the channel.
Wings folded. Wyverns dove.
With that order, every Ravendawn wyvern abruptly stopped fighting and vanished into the white fog, leaving the enemy airships and fighter planes stunned and confused.
---
Ravendawn Main Fleet, HMS Luxtor
"Admiral, The wyverns are clear," an officer reported.
Admiral Lorenzo stood very still.
"All ships," he said quietly, "prepare to fire."
Cannons elevated. Crews held their breath as the watch the towering fog curtain In front of them.
The smoke hid the enemy from their vision—but not from their shells.
"…Fire." Admiral Lorenzo said softly
"ALL SHIPS—FIRE!"