"Report the battle situation."
"We have won this engagement. The enemy land fleet… three warships have lost the ability to continue, two were destroyed by our fleet, one escaped, and two others were captured."
"Good work."
On the bridge, the members of Tomorrow's Developments removed their headsets and leaned back in their chairs, faces lit with satisfaction. They had won. Despite the obstruction of the two dukes, and though several of their own warships had sustained damage, the situation remained firmly under control.
Some Sarkaz operators gazed at the distant fireworks streaking across the sky. A few shed tears of emotion; others were overcome with complicated feelings. They had once believed Kazdel to be a demon everyone could trample upon, a name forever burdened with scorn. They thought that stigma could never be shaken.
They had been wrong.
They had long possessed the strength. What they lacked was the chance to display it openly, without restraint.
Now, the Military Commission had given them that chance.
Kazdel had changed long ago.
Ines let out a quiet breath of relief. As commander, her performance in this first battle had been solid. She had achieved outstanding results in simulated combat during her training, but simulations were only games. This was reality. Commanding a fleet of such scale had given her invaluable experience. Thinking back to her days as a mere mercenary squad leader, and comparing that to her present self in a captain's uniform, Ines allowed herself a faint smile as she looked toward the young man seated upon the golden throne.
"Let the adventurers rest," Felix said slowly as he rose from the throne. "For them, this battle may be insignificant. But I must give the other legions, who are eager to prove their strength, an opportunity."
"Yes."
Ines bowed.
The players gradually returned to their warships, their faces still flushed with exhilaration. It had been a long time since they had tasted such fire and blood. The thought of endless war in Patch 3.0 sent a thrill down their spines.
Several warships, however, had been damaged in the earlier fighting and required repairs. For the time being, they would be unable to operate at full combat strength.
When they received the King of Dawn's orders, some felt a flicker of disappointment. But they understood. They had already enjoyed their moment. Now it was the Patriots' turn to act.
Cheng had been carried back. He had even drawn his sword inside the enemy warship, only to be weakened by the backlash and stabbed to death by a Victorian soldier. Fortunately, he had not lost his ancient-grade weapon. For ten straight minutes, he endured relentless verbal abuse from all directions. Lying on the bed, he basked in the insults while reliving the ecstasy of his rampage across the battlefield.
When Huang Tianhoutu saw the vice-captain's familiar yet oddly unfamiliar goofy expression, he could only shake his head.
"Let's rest for now. Fleet repairs will take time." As captain, Huang Tianhoutu took his responsibility toward the players aboard his ship seriously. "Once we reach the supply station, we can disembark and relax. Just bear with it a little longer."
"We want to fight!"
"+1."
"I want to fight!"
Huang Tianhoutu fell silent at the sight of the players' fervor. He had to admit, when he gave the order to fire, when the fleet's cannons roared and waves towered before them, something within him surged as well. He had even wanted to fire a few more salvos.
But an order was an order.
The players ultimately complied. After all, they had already had their fun.
They needed rest. The remaining battles would be entrusted to the other legions of Tomorrow's Development, and they did not mind in the slightest.
Dozens of kilometers away from the Venus, Rhodes Island moving alone across the scarred land.
On the bridge, ACE, Scout, and Logos stared at the remnants of the battlefield in the distance. They exchanged glances and saw unease reflected in each other's eyes.
Such a warship. Such firepower. For Rhodes Island, it would spell disaster. No, for a landship like Rhodes Island, which had never been outfitted with heavy weaponry from the start, it would be overwhelming.
Entering Victorian territory was one thing. Engaging in direct combat against the intercepting warships of two nobles was another entirely.
In all of ACE's life, he had never witnessed a war on this scale. With the assistance of the Clever, Rhodes Island had been able to observe the battle unfold.
"Though their number of warships is fewer than the nobles', their firepower is on a completely different level." ACE swallowed, the sound audible in the tense silence, only then realizing the astonishment in his own voice. "Unbelievable… a war like this… fighting like this…"
It shattered his understanding of what war truly was.
Scout spoke softly. "The civil war in Kazdel a few years ago relied entirely on manpower and command. In the eyes of other nations, it must have looked like child's play."
"Who says manpower is useless?" Blaze could not help but retort. "The adventurers are here, they had played an exceptionally crucial role in this war. Without their relentless advance, the exchange of fire between warships might have dragged on much longer, and the vessels exploring this region could have suffered even greater losses.
"Blaze, do you want to join the adventurers and take part in the vanguard assault?"
Stormeye's tone carried a trace of helplessness.
"Heh, you figured me out, hahaha." Blaze scratched his head sheepishly.
Logos let out a long breath. "Kazdel, at last, in this breakout battle…"
It had displayed its strength upon New Terra. The Victoria of old had never spared it a second glance.
Now, having witnessed Kazdel's might, they understood that in past wars, its people had paid for every inch of ground with their lives.
The disparity in capability was undeniable. After this battle, no force would dare to underestimate Kazdel again.
Kal'tsit and Amiya stood before the glass, watching the distant smoke of battle.
Amiya clasped her hands in prayer, hoping for a peaceful conclusion to the war and offering silent remembrance for those who had fallen.
Kal'tsit lifted her gaze. "Your Highness… Kazdel today is both terrifying and strangely familiar. Could it be that under that man's rule, Kazdel will once again dominate this land?"
That was all. Felix's ambitions did not lie in mere conquest or endless campaigns. Now, Kal'tsit could only hope that remained true.
She believed it as well, because that man was not that kind of person.
Yet faced with Amiya's unwavering trust in Felix, Kal'tsit felt a faint sense of distance. When had she grown so certain of his character, so convinced that he would never change?
It brought her no comfort. Instead, as she looked toward the distant Venus, she fell into brief contemplation.
Dusk descended, and a fine drizzle began to fall, washing over the land and cleansing the dust from the landships. On a day like this, one ought to be reclining on a sofa at home, watching the summer rain through the window with a book in hand.
But heavy footsteps echoed across the elevator deck. Upon the command platform stood a man whose sheer presence was undeniable. Clad in gleaming silver armor, his helmet seemed fused to his flesh. His crimson eyes stared forward without wavering. Behind him stood Yelena, dressed in full battle regalia.
Like father, like daughter. Since His Highness had summoned Patriot to the battlefield, then as his daughter and a member of His Highness's harem, Yelena bore a responsibility she could not cast aside.
Before the elevator platform, Patriot's old subordinates, the Shieldguards, watched with pride and excitement.
Oras and the soldiers of the Lightbearer Legion stood at attention. Asuna and the members of the Himmelswächter Legion, the Meliras, had also assembled.
"Set out. Advance. Claim victory."
Patriot's words were few, yet they carried immense weight. His commanding presence drove the soldiers of the Lightbearers and Himmelswächter Legions to slam their weapons against the ground. The Shieldguards, unable to contain their battle fervor, let out thunderous roars.
They had once thought themselves forgotten. They had believed the patriots had been forgotten.
Since joining Tomorrow's Development, they had become operators, carrying out routine missions and assignments. Yet in their bones, they were soldiers, and that truth would never change.
Patriot raised his head and looked toward His Highness standing upon the bridge, the senior officers at his side. He inclined his head slightly, then turned and led the soldiers onto the elevator platform.
Amid the smooth hum of machinery, he felt the wind and rain awaiting them ahead.
Cold rain lashed the wasteland along Victoria's border. Mud churned beneath trampling iron boots.
The banners of Tomorrow's Developments and Kazdel drooped beneath the leaden sky. The rhomboid composite coat of arms, symbolizing their march toward the stars, was soaked through, hanging heavy upon the flagpoles.
The Duke of Fife's legion had formed four iron lines of defense. The first line consisted of spearmen, their tempered spearheads gleaming coldly. The second line was made up of heavy axemen, their axe blades flashing with lethal promise. The third line comprised cloaked scouts, scimitars in hand, tasked with cutting down those who broke through the formation and severing the necks of deserters. The fourth and most dangerous line was a legion of casters and snipers. Their numbers alone made them the deadliest source of casualties.
Patriot stood at the forefront. His figure rose half a head taller than even the tallest Victoria warrior. White steam billowed from beneath his mask, like a colossal beast stirring from a long slumber.
He had not fought in far too long. So long that he had begun to miss the sensation.
The towering shield that had accompanied him through countless battles rested at his feet, its surface scarred and dented, stained dark red with blood from the northern Ursus. The halberd, mighty enough to cleave a city gate, stood planted diagonally in the ground. Rainwater ran along the blade's blood grooves, gathering into a clear pool at his feet.
"Father, are you truly going to charge into battle alone?"
Yelena's voice rose from behind him. Her military uniform clung tightly to her body in the wind and rain, and her white rabbit ears were swept back by the gale.
Patriot did not turn. He simply wrenched the halberd from the mud. The harsh scrape of metal against stone made the knees of the Duke of Fife's front-line Victorian recruits tremble.
"Victoria, I advance."
Three bugle calls split the air from the Victorian ranks, the signal for a brutal assault. Whether willing or not, the soldiers had no choice. Facing an enemy far smaller in number yet terrifyingly powerful, they could only charge.
The first wave of spearmen advanced. Five hundred steel spears formed a moving forest of thorns, shafts pounding rhythmically against shields, the thunderous cadence tearing through the curtain of rain.
Patriot moved.
The shockwave from the giant shield struck first, blasting into the formation and sending shields flying from the hands of front-line soldiers, smashing into the faces of those behind them. His halberd carved a cold arc through the air, snapping sixteen spear shafts at their base. Before the broken tips even struck the ground, the blade had already swept across the waists of the second rank. Limbs and fragments of armor burst into the rain, their screams swallowed by the battle cries surging from behind.
"Stab his knuckles!"
The centurion's roar ended in a wet crack. Patriot seized the man's head in his left hand and slammed it into the ground, forcing him face-first into the mud where he quickly went still. Five heavily armored defender soldiers leapt onto Patriot's back, axes crashing against Wendigo steel and sending sparks flying. The blades warped; the arms that wielded them were wrenched from their sockets by the recoil. Patriot pivoted and swung his shield, smashing the five iron-clad bodies into the mud like discarded toys.
The rain intensified, yet it could not dilute the thick stench of blood. With his shield as the axis and his halberd as the sweeping edge, he carved an ever-expanding vortex of crimson through the Victorian ranks. Corpses piled into a low circular wall, forcing those behind to climb over the severed remains of their comrades. Some stumbled on the dead and had their spines crushed before they could rise. Others frantically thrust at Patriot's knees, only to find their spearheads snapping against armor that would not yield.
This was a massacre, utterly one-sided.
"Monster! He's a damn monster!"
The first wave of recruits broke and fled. Before Patriot, they had lost all will to fight, praying only that death would pass them by.
"…This…"
Oras's eyes widened. As a legion commander and a proud member of the Vouivre race, he had always held confidence in his own strength. Yet before Patriot, he felt, for the first time, that his training was far from enough.
To Yelena's relief, Patriot understood he was not alone.
"Soldiers, we expand and advance."
"March!"
The Shieldguards moved forward with shields raised. The Lightbearers infused their weapons with Originium Arts, advancing in coordinated squads of four, striking at the Victorian soldiers as the Shieldguards crashed into the second line of defense.
Sleek, high-tech sniper rifles materialized before Asuna and Yukino. Yukino's Himmelswächter sniper squad produced identical weapons. Their gazes locked onto the fourth line of casters and snipers across the battlefield as they lifted their rifles in unison.
Azure light gathered at the muzzles.
"Magnetic Storm, activate!" Asuna shouted.
Hundreds of blue beams streaked overhead, tearing across the battlefield before detonating behind Duke Fife's legion in a deafening cascade.
This was a one-sided war.