[Aethelgard Flagship – "Iron Judgment"]
[North Coast, Border of the Crimson Sea]
[Three hours after the Victoria Street Attack]
The command deck was silent, save for the rhythmic hum of the ether-turbines. Three officers in black uniforms stood at rigid attention, waiting for orders.
"Lieutenant?" the senior officer asked, his voice echoing slightly in the iron chamber. "Victoria Street is destroyed. What are your orders?"
Raphael Azarias stood by the viewport, staring out at the blood-red waves of the Crimson Sea. His black hair, tipped with crimson at the back, brushed against the collar of his uniform.
"We will wait here for now," Raphael said softly. "And then... we attack Westminster."
His smile widened, sharp and predatory.
He closed his eyes. Instantly, his vision shifted. He was no longer on the ship; he was soaring through the smoke-choked sky above London. Through the eyes of his third crow, he looked down at the devastation below.
Victoria Street was gone.
It wasn't just damaged; it was flattened. Buildings had been reduced to rubble. People were dying in the streets, their cries lost in the roar of the fires. He saw Awakened healers and Preservation guards frantically digging through the debris, trying to save those who hadn't fully died in the bombardment.
The crow banked left, flying West toward the heart of Westminster.
Through the bird's eyes, Raphael saw the counterattack mobilizing.
Soldiers with ether-rifles were marching in formation. Airships were rising from the hangars, their engines flaring blue. But most importantly, he saw the naval fleet. Dozens of massive battleships stationed in the Sapphire Expanse were turning their prows North, moving toward the Crimson Sea to intercept the Iron Kingdom's forces.
"Everything is set," Raphael whispered.
He opened his eyes, the connection breaking. He turned to his command staff, his smile now a terrifying grin. Two black crows fluttered down to perch on his shoulders.
"Not three this time," he mused, petting one of the birds. "Just two."
[The Westminster 1st Fleet]
[Approaching the Crimson Sea]
Dozens of steel-plated ships cut through the blue waters of the Sapphire Expanse, moving steadily toward the red horizon.
The sailors and captains knew the stories. They knew the Crimson Sea was death. The ether density there was poisonous, and monsters lurked beneath the waves. But they sailed anyway. They were fighting for their Kingdom, for their homes, for the God of Preservation.
"Sir!" A soldier in a blue naval uniform saluted the Commander on the bridge of the lead ship. "We can see the Crimson Sea approaching. The Ether density is spiking rapidly. What should we do?"
The Commander peered through his binoculars. Ahead, the blue water abruptly ended, replaced by a thick, swirling red fog and waves that looked like liquid ruby.
"Everyone, wear your gas masks," the Commander ordered, his voice grim. "It won't make it safe, but we might survive the toxicity. And order the First Fleet to hug the coast. We will move within the shallows, not the deep sea."
"Yes, sir!" The soldier saluted and ran inside to relay the orders.
The First Fleet drifted toward the coastline, the ships forming a defensive line. The Commander pulled a heavy leather gas mask over his face, the filters hissing as they activated. Around him, the crew did the same.
They crossed the threshold.
The air instantly became heavy. For the Tier 2 Awakened and the unawakened soldiers, it was suffocating. Men grabbed their throats, coughing violently despite the masks. Some collapsed on the deck, unconscious from the sheer pressure of the Ether.
"Hold the line!" the Commander shouted, though his own vision was swimming.
Then, they saw it.
High above the red fog, the silhouette of an Iron Kingdom battleship loomed like a dark mountain in the sky. It was magnificent and terrifying.
"Open fire!"
Boom.
The Westminster airship escort accompanying the fleet fired a direct volley. A massive ether-shell struck the enemy battleship.
BOOM.
One clean shot. The Iron Kingdom ship shuddered, flames erupting from its side, and it began to fall, crashing down into the Crimson Sea with a massive splash.
Cheers erupted from the Westminster fleet. "We got them! They bleed just like us!"
But the celebration was cut short.
Suddenly, a silhouette dropped from the sky. Someone had jumped from another enemy airship.
He fell like a meteor, landing on the rocky coast nearby.
CRACK.
The ground literally shattered. A shockwave of dust and red mana exploded outward.
The Commander watched through his binoculars, his blood turning to ice. The air temperature suddenly spiked. It wasn't just warm; it was scorching. It felt as if the sun itself had descended to the earth.
Even from this distance, the paint on the ship's railing began to bubble.
The unknown figure on the coast stood up. He was wreathed in flames. He lifted his hand and simply flicked his wrist.
A miniature sun—a ball of concentrated, white-hot plasma—flew from his hand toward the First Fleet.
It moved slowly, but the heat was unbearable. The water beneath it boiled instantly.
The Commander stared at the approaching death. Instead of ordering a turn, instead of firing back, panic seized his mind.
"I can't die here!"
He didn't think. He didn't command. He scrambled over the railing and jumped into the Crimson Sea without a second thought.
BOOM.
The miniature sun hit the lead ship. There was no resistance. The steel evaporated. The wood turned to ash. The ship exploded into a million burning fragments, scattering debris across the red waves.
Splash.
The Commander surfaced, gasping for air. He watched his ship burn, relief flooding his chest.
"Phew..." he sighed, treading water. "At least I'm safe."
Without a Commander, the other soldiers would die, but that didn't matter. He was alive.
He turned to swim toward the rocky coast.
But then he felt it. A strange numbness in his fingers.
He lifted his hand out of the red water.
"What...?"
His flesh was gone. Where his fingers used to be, there was only white bone.
The Crimson Sea was reacting to the foreign mana. The mutation spread instantly—up his arm, to his shoulder, to his chest. His skin melted away like wax, leaving perfectly clean bone underneath.
"AHHHHHH!"
The Commander screamed, but it was too late.
Within seconds, the scream was cut short as the water filled his skeletal lungs. He sank beneath the red waves, leaving nothing behind but a white skeleton drifting in the abyss.