With the Maritime Self-Defense Force reduced to drifting wreckage, the coastal waters of the Japan lay wide open, offering zero resistance to the advancing armada.
Tens of thousands of Atlantean shock-troopers glided through the surf, their eyes burning with raw, incandescent bloodlust. Though Attuma and the high command had survived the supersonic missile strike by retreating into the abyss, the slaughter of their brothers on the surface had turned their thirst for vengeance into a religious frenzy. Every soldier held their coral spear and sonic cannon at the ready, glaring toward the fortifications erected along the cliffs.
Right as the vanguard prepared to storm the beaches, high-powered broadcast sirens blared across the shoreline.
"Citizens and warriors of Atlantis!" a synthesized Japanese translation echoed over the waves, crackling with desperate urgency. "The Government of Japan has deployed zero offensive strikes against your domain! Nor has our nation committed any hostile acts against your people! We implore your leadership to halt your advance and open immediate diplomatic channels! This catastrophic engagement is born of a tragic misunderstanding!"
Along the concrete sea walls, the Ground Self-Defense Force had scrambled heavily fortified defensive lines.
Even with their naval fleet annihilated, Tokyo's Cabinet was still desperately clinging to the prospect of a ceasefire. A war against an abyssal civilization was an unwinnable quagmire from which Japan could reap zero strategic benefit, even in the event of a total victory.
Unfortunately, Attuma had no interest in peace. To an usurper whose stolen crown rested upon a foundation of manufactured grief, a negotiated settlement was an existential death sentence.
"Listen to the cowardly vermin," Attuma scoffed, raising his golden trident so every warrior in the vanguard could see the contempt etched into his face. "The blood of King Namor and your brothers still stains the tides, yet these surface-dwellers dare lecture us on peace! Warriors of the deep... will you barter treaties with the murderers of your king?!"
"NO!!"
A thunderous, guttural roar tore from tens of thousands of throats, rejecting the overture.
"TOTAL WAR!!" Attuma bellowed.
THUMP-THUMP-THUMP-THUMP!
Before the echo of Attuma's war cry could fade, the coastal cliffs ignited with blinding muzzle flashes.
Heavy mortars, automated 35mm anti-aircraft batteries, and coastal artillery emplacements unloaded in a synchronized, point-blank barrage. High-explosive shells hammered into the surf, ripping through the dense ranks of warriors who had surfaced to scream their defiance. Shrapnel tore through flesh, painting the white foam a sickening, frothing crimson.
"Treacherous bastards!" Attuma roared, his veins bulging as bodies floated face-down in the waves around him.
The brazen audacity of opening fire mid-parley paralyzed Attuma's judgment for several critical seconds.
Fortunately, General Arno was already in motion.
"Submerge! All units, dive beneath fifty meters!" Arno's icy command cut through the hydro-acoustic channels. "Deploy the leviathans! Let the beasts draw their frontal artillery! Legions, break into scouting echelons and sweep the northern and southern coastlines!"
Under Arno's disciplined command, the slaughter was swiftly contained.
Dozens of colossal, armored sea beasts charged the shallows, their massive bulk absorbing the punishing hail of high-explosive ordnance like mobile breakwaters. Meanwhile, the main Atlantean force split into agile strike units, gliding silently along the underwater trenches.
As an archipelago surrounded entirely by ocean, Japan's shoreline was simply too expansive for a depleted military to lock down. While the ruins of Yokohama, Chiba, and Sagami Bay were bristling with mechanized infantry, hundreds of miles of outer coastline remained completely undefended.
An hour later, an encrypted ping reached the command unit.
A pristine, crescent-shaped expanse of pale sand stretched silently beneath the midday sun.
Through the clear shallows, a scout scanned the tree line. Zero wire barricades. Zero concrete bunkers. Aside from a cluster of civilian residential buildings and seaside resorts further inland, the entire beach lay exposed.
"Alert King Attuma," the scout whispered into his comms. "We have bypassed their perimeter. The beach is completely clear."
At the frontal staging zone, Attuma received the coordinates with unbridled ecstasy.
Arno's grand strategic proposal had been to deploy the tectonic converters and sink the entire landmass beneath the Pacific. Yet after witnessing the surface-dwellers' conventional infantry in action, Attuma's ego had swollen to grotesque proportions.
'Sink the continent?' Attuma sneered internally. 'Where is the glory in drowning empty dirt? If I march onto dry land, crush their cities beneath my heel, and plant the standard of Atlantis upon terrestrial soil... I will achieve what no monarch in ten thousand years has ever dared to attempt.'
Blind to the biological reality that Atlanteans could not maintain combat effectiveness out of water indefinitely, Attuma rallied his legions with intoxicating, imperial rhetoric.
"Leave a sacrificial detachment to guide the beasts on the frontal line!" Attuma shouted, raising his trident to the sky. "All primary legions, divert to the landing zone! Today, we claim an eternal page in the historical scrolls of Atlantis! We conquer the land!"
"HURRAH!!"
The soldiers roared in fanatical unison, their minds poisoned by dreams of imperial conquest.
Only Arno felt a cold stone sink into his gut. Terrestrial soil held zero value for an aquatic species. But looking at the sea of bloodshot, glory-drunk eyes, the general knew any attempt to preach restraint would be branded as cowardice.
Arriving at the tranquil waters of White Ice Coast, Attuma stared at the empty sands and let out a booming laugh.
"Look upon their incompetence, Arno! The surface-dwellers possess zero tactical foresight! To leave such a glorious gateway unguarded!" Attuma surged through the surf. "Full invasion! Charge!!"
Thousands of armored warriors broke the surface like a dark tide, their webbed feet pounding against the dry sand.
Seeing the vanguard storm the dunes without triggering a single mine or tripwire, Arno exhaled a shallow breath of relief—yet his hand remained clamped tightly around Attuma's golden pauldron, anchoring his sovereign in place.
Arno cared nothing for the common infantry; they were expendable statistics. But Attuma's survival was paramount. Arno's entire political ambition of claiming the position of High Minister was welded directly to Attuma's royal survival.
"Patience, King Attuma," Arno urged quietly. "Let the vanguard secure the interior perimeter first."
"Release me, Arno!" Attuma snapped, swatting the general's hand away as he took his first heavy stride onto the dry sand. "Our warriors have already taken the beach! This is the first step of our global conquest—and I will not stand in the shadows while my men claim my glory!"
.....
.....
.....
Give me powerstones.
Support me and read advance chapters on patreon.com/ImmortalDaoWriter