Chapter 101: It’s Unfair!

Beneath the surface of the coastal waters, four mechanical predators moved through the cold green dark.

They ran in a loose line abreast, spaced fifty yards apart, their electronic brains running through programmed search patterns. Their active sonar arrays clicked rapidly, sending sharp acoustic pulses into the water.

Ping. Ping. Ping.

The sound waves bounced off the rocky sea floor and the massive, cut-stone foundations of the breakwaters. The torpedoes adjusted their steering fins automatically, lining themselves up with the deep underwater trench.

At forty knots, they crossed the invisible threshold.

Above them, the golden dome of the Aegis of the Sun hummed with massive divine energy, casting a pale yellow shimmer across the surface of the water. But down at twenty feet of depth, there was only cold, salty ocean and moving sand.

The four Mark 54s slipped under the stone breakwater without resistance. Not a single spark flew. Not a single rune flared.

"Target acquisition," the guidance computer inside the lead torpedo determined.

Inside the crowded harbor basin, dozens of wooden hulls rested in the water. Each ship pushed thousands of tons of water aside, creating massive acoustic profiles that the sensitive transducers in the torpedoes could not miss. The four weapons immediately locked onto the thickest clusters of timber.

Up on the stone pier of Port Solis, everything was in pure chaos.

Hundreds of imperial soldiers, dockworkers, and temple acolytes were running back and forth with wooden buckets of water, trying to stop the fires from spreading to the rest of the fleet. The second galleon was still burning fiercely, sending thick embers flying into the dry canvas sails of adjacent ships.

Lord Justin stood on the edge of the stone dock, surrounded by his personal guard. His expensive gold-trimmed armor was smeared with black soot, and his face was twisted in panic and fury.

"Cut the mooring ropes!" Justin screamed, waving his broadsword toward the ships. "Don’t just stand there, you cowards! Cut the lines and push the burning hulls away from the quay! If the fire reaches the supply caravels, the whole harbor will go up!"

A group of sailors rushed onto a nearby two-deck caravel, hacking at the thick hemp ropes with axes.

Beside the pier, several temple mages in blue robes were chanting loudly, their hands outstretched toward the water. They were trying to cast water-manipulation spells to douse the burning galleon, but the sheer heat from the boiling pitch made it almost impossible to get close.

"My Lord!" an officer yelled, running up to Justin while pointing out toward the harbor mouth. "Look at the channel! The white trails are back!"

Justin’s heart seized. He spun around, staring out into the center of the basin.

Cutting through the dark, soot-covered water were four distinct lines of frothing white foam. They moved with absolute, terrifying speed, leaving straight scars across the calm bay. They weren’t jumping or diving like sea beasts. They moved with a cold, mechanical precision that defied nature.

"Archers!" Justin shrieked, his voice breaking into a terrified pitch. "Fire at the water! Ballistas, loose on the foam! Mages, freeze the surface! Freeze it now!"

A dozen archers on the stone parapets drew their longbows, letting loose a volley of enchanted iron-tipped arrows into the bay.

The arrows plunged harmlessly into the water, their momentum dying within three feet of depth as the torpedoes raced twenty feet below them, completely untouchable.

Two junior water-mages dropped to their knees, desperately channeling their mana into the sea. A thin crust of pale ice began to form along the surface near the docks, barely an inch thick.

It was completely useless.

The lead Mark 54 torpedo tore right beneath the thin ice, shattering it into floating crystals, and passed directly under the keel of the caravel where sailors were still hacking at the mooring lines.

The magnetic proximity sensor tripped.

BOOM!

A deafening underwater blast ripped the harbor apart.

The caravel was blown three feet out of the water as an immense shockwave shattered every structural rib in its lower hull. The ship’s mainmast snapped like a dry twig, toppling sideways and crushing half a dozen men on the deck. A split second later, a colossal geyser of muddy foam and shattered oak boards erupted into the air, drenching the stone pier in freezing water.

Before the sound of the first explosion even finished echoing off the cliffs, the second and third torpedoes hit simultaneously.

One struck an ammunition transport ship laden with enchanted explosive stones meant for the imperial siege catapults.

KABOOM!

The resulting blast was ten times larger than the torpedo itself. A blinding flash of purple and orange fire completely vaporized the center of the ship. The violent shockwave tore down the wooden cranes along the dock, threw Justin and his guards violently onto the stone pavement, and shattered every remaining glass lantern within three hundred yards.

Planks, severed ropes, and iron bolts rained down from the sky like hail.

The fourth torpedo tracked across the northern basin and struck a troop transport galleon that had just begun hoisting its anchor. The warhead detonated directly under its rudder, blowing the entire stern off the vessel and tearing a hole wide enough to drive a wagon through. Seawater rushed into the compartments, and the massive wooden ship rolled heavily onto its port side, capsizing in less than twenty seconds.

Screams of drowning soldiers, burning sailors, and terrified dockworkers filled the air.

Lord Justin pushed himself up from the wet stone, spitting blood and seawater from his mouth. His ears were ringing violently, and his hands shook so hard he couldn’t hold his sword.

Around him, four more ships were burning or sinking into the harbor mud. The water was filled with thrashing men, floating debris, and burning oil.

High above them, the Aegis of the Sun remained perfectly golden, pristine, and untouched.

It was supposed to be the ultimate divine shield, a sacred gift from Goddess Viona herself that made the empire invincible. Yet beneath its glowing light, the imperial navy was being torn apart piece by piece by an enemy they couldn’t even see.

"It’s a slaughter..." an imperial knight wept, falling to his knees among the smoking wreckage. "They aren’t even here... and they’re killing us all..."

Back in the underground command bunker, the operations room was quiet and orderly.

On the panoramic wall display, the drone feed updated in high-definition color. Four new plumes of thick black smoke had joined the original fire. Thermal cameras picked up huge heat blooms across Piers Three and Four. The digital icons representing the imperial fleet flickered as the computer registered four more total combat losses, along with three adjacent ships heavily damaged by spreading fires.

"Impacts confirmed on all four weapons," the tactical action officer announced in a calm, professional voice. "Target Charlie: confirmed kill, structural hull failure. Target Delta: catastrophic secondary detonation, vessel obliterated. Target Echo: stern destroyed, capsized. Target Foxtrot: confirmed kill. Six total combatants destroyed to date, plus five heavily damaged."

A quiet murmur of satisfaction ran through the room, but the operators didn’t stop typing. They were already pulling up coordinates for the next wave.

John stood by the railing, studying the burning harbor on the screen.

"Supreme Commander," the naval intelligence officer said, looking up from his station. "Drone sweeps show the remaining imperial ships are in total disarray. Some crews are abandoning ship and swimming to shore. Others are trying to cut lines and ground their vessels on the inner beach to avoid sinking in the channel."

"If they beach them, they’re out of the fight anyway," John said. "What about their command structure?"

"Lookouts on the high towers are signaling frantically toward the capital with mirror flashes and magic flares. They know they can’t stop the attacks, but they still don’t understand where the weapons are coming from. They haven’t reported our aircraft because our birds are releasing from miles outside their visual range."

Elenore stood quietly beside John, observing the drone image in silence as the flames consumed the harbor.

"That’s modern warfare," John murmured, taking a sip of his coffee. "You don’t fight where the enemy wants to fight. You find their vulnerability, you apply maximum pressure, and you don’t stop until their capability is reduced to zero."

He set his mug down on the console rail and looked at the naval coordinator.

"What’s the status of the submarine?" John asked.

"The USS Virginia is fifty miles off the coast, running silent at two hundred feet," the coordinator replied. "She’s armed with Mark 48 heavy torpedoes and can deliver them from over twenty miles out using wire-guided targeting."

"Tell the Virginia to hold in reserve for any high-value targets that try to make a run for open water," John ordered. "In the meantime, keep the helicopter rotation going. Send Warlord Two-Three and Two-Four on the next cycle. Followed by the second P-3 Orion."

"Understood, sir. Next wave reaches the drop basket in forty minutes."

John looked back at the giant screen. On the display, the golden barrier of Goddess Viona continued to shine brightly over the harbor, completely useless against the weapons running beneath the waves.

"Keep pounding that channel," John said coldly. "By sunset, I don’t want a single imperial ship left floating in that bay."