Chapter 1457 - 474: We Must Trust Science_3

Chapter 1457: Chapter 474: We Must Trust Science_3

The projectiles fired by the Electromagnetic Cannon aren’t spherical, but steel needles. The long, thin needle tip tears open the air and forms an aerodynamic barrier, automatically forcing the surrounding air aside and minimizing the kinetic energy loss from air resistance, so along its trajectory you can see a ring of umbrella-shaped shockwaves constantly spreading outwards—spectacular as hell.

Two hundred and forty kilometers is far for ordinary vehicles, but for a steel-needle Electromagnetic Cannon round boosted to dozens of times the speed of sound, it’s barely over twenty seconds of flight time. For a three-hundred-meter-long behemoth of a battleship, that amount of time is basically nowhere near enough to complete a turn.

Even though they were already pushing the engines at full power, with Hood’s hull keel twisting so hard it let out a tooth-grinding metal screech, it was still too late.

The two rounds slammed simultaneously into Hood’s Force Field shield—this Force Field shield that can stop supersonic ballistic missiles now looked like it hadn’t eaten enough, and facing the overwhelmingly powerful Electromagnetic Cannon shots it only held for less than 0.1 seconds. It basically froze for an instant, then was directly penetrated.

The steel needle at the front of the shell smashed viciously into Hood’s side armor. The 407mm-thick main belt armor is enough to make most anti-ship missiles bounce off in disgrace, but in front of the Electromagnetic Cannon it wasn’t much thicker than a sheet of paper.

Under the self-sharpening effect of the ultra-alloy armor-piercing steel needle at the tip, this half-meter-thick alloy armor shattered on cue, and it felt like time itself inside the whole Hood slowed down.

After punching through the outer main armor, the needle shell continued through two more compartments in a row, molten armor iron splashing through the air. The faces of the surrounding United Kingdom sailors were still wearing tense expressions, as if totally unaware of the fate about to hit them.

Smashing through yet another unlucky sod who happened to be in the way, the shell carried his flesh and blood as it drilled all the way into Hood’s interior, and at this point, with the initial velocity finally greatly reduced, the rear-end detonation device was triggered. Three hundred kilos of metallic hydrogen in each of the two rounds was unleashed.

Violent flames tore the shell itself apart, and under the brutal push of the shockwave the fragments were turned into smaller, deadlier shrapnel, punching through layer after layer of internal decks and triggering even fiercer explosions.

A huge number of Hood’s sailors were swallowed and shredded by flame and shockwave before the expressions on their faces even changed. The last thing their consciousness registered was just a flash of light.

The first shell hit the bow dead on, while the second shell, of all places, struck the vertical launch cells. The missile warheads stowed in the cells have different fillers, and normally they’re safe enough that you could hit them with a hammer and they still wouldn’t go off.

But clearly the impact this time was way beyond hammer-level, plus the high temperatures that followed close behind. Unless you’re a nuke, you’re blowing up along with everything else.

The protective casing on the warheads was torn open, the fillers were rapidly detonated, and this second wave of explosions swept through multiple compartments of Hood in the space of a blink. Flames jetted from multiple windows, and even the lowest-level lift engines took damage—tens of thousands of tons of hull actually started to lose balance and drop!

The giant ship’s whole body was burning, trailing thick black smoke as it fell from the clouds toward the ocean, like ancient gods plummeting from the heavens.

The players aboard Bar launched saw this through their mine sensors and couldn’t help but gape in shock.

Mongolian Toplaner saw both of his shots hit, and he’d already stood up to cheer, but then realized this salvo’s results were way too glorious—even he scared himself.

Giant couldn’t help pinching his own face, half convinced he was dreaming.

"Holy shit! Your shells are that strong? You just wiped the BOSS’s HP bar in one go? You insta-killed the BOSS?"

Mongolian Toplaner was still in a dazed stupor.

"The detonation power we calculated in Cyberspace wasn’t anywhere near this high. Did that bastard Jianxue sneak in over-spec charges again? Italy’s ships really gotta come stock with drugged-up guns or what?"

Everyone turned to look at Potato.

"What are you staring at me for? This has nothing to do with me, okay? You guys need to believe in science! This world is materialist, you get me?"

Potato swallowed hard. He felt that this whole thing... probably didn’t have anything to do with him.

"Absolutely, definitely, and positively unrelated!"

If his mouth were actually this blessed, he would’ve won five million in the lottery years ago.

The players were stunned, and the other warships in the Alliance Army were just as stunned.

They picked up Bar’s signal on radar almost at the same time as Hood, within a few seconds front and back, but before they could react, Bar opened fire.

And then Hood blew up, with Charles’s mad SOS flooding the channel.

He loaded in, fired one shot, and insta-killed them—what are you even supposed to say?

Say my ass!

I’ll beat your damn mother!

No one present had any idea how Bar got through the circular defensive line they’d put together, suddenly showed up a mere two hundred and fifty kilometers from Hood, launched its attack, and then before anyone had time to react, one move insta-killed Hood.

What kind of level of technological stomp is this?

Everyone broke out in a cold sweat, but also felt a bit lucky. Good thing the one who died was Hood—if that punch had landed on them, that day would’ve been certain death, no question.

Like a Soldier sleeping on guard duty: if he weren’t wrapped in a coat, he’d never know someone had been there. He’d just assume the guy teleported past him, and not that he swaggered right by in front of his nose.

In the channel, quiet as a frozen winter night, it was Captain Bar who finally roared:

"What are you still standing around for? He’s inside our encirclement—counterattack and sink it!"

Only then did everyone snap out of it like waking from a dream.

No matter what tech you’ve got, you’re exposed now, and with Bar’s defenses there’s no way it can stand up to their combined assault.

Five ships against one—no matter how you slice it, we’ve got the advantage.

In an instant, Bar, Calvera, Pelayo, Novgorod, and Vasa all moved: some turning, some launching fighters.

Vasa, being the closest ship to Bar, even dumped all of its stored missiles in one salvo, a full-on do-or-die posture.

There was no choice—Bar obviously came through their sector. If they didn’t put on a show now, they wouldn’t be able to run from the European Community’s post-battle accountability.