October 28, 1616 Central Calendar
Sea south of the Gynamo Kingdom
The Annonrial Empire's communications station located on a certain unnamed island within the Gynamo Kingdom's territory swiftly resumed regular operations after the takeover by the White Lotus, as though Amon's hastily-assembled team had never been there. Aside from the addition of several things to smoothen the anti-Annonrial regime operation, the crew on this isolated rock continued their tasks without any indication that things had changed. However, the Winged People operating the equipment now also relayed all transmissions from the Annonrial side, both received and intercepted, to their new friends of the White Lotus as if it were normal.
Just two minutes before the clock struck 00:15, the station intercepted a transmission from the mainland. Once received, a machine sprang to life, swiftly decrypting the coded message, which revealed to contain instructions indicating movements within a certain western country. Despite the crew's typical boredom, they felt a surge of alertness as they were instructed that as a pillar of communication near the Southern World, every message relating to the Messiah's realm was something the White Lotus needed to be aware of.
"Relay it."
"Understood. Decoding complete... relaying now."
"........."
After the message slipped into the void, those on shift at the station returned to their normal routine. For them, it was just another passing date, concealed from the outside world by their glamour and unnoticed by the ignorant Gynamese locals. But—
❖⟐❖⟐❖
Several minutes prior
MOASEC Ground System Development Facility, San Redentore District, Runepolis, Holy Milishial Empire
Next to his facility's leader, Professor Harley Hendrickson, Emre Senturya stifled a yawn as he observed a convoy of four imposing trucks painted in a matte light gray color rolling into the hangar, where some of the graveyard shift crewmen had gathered.
"What's that? Sleepy already?" Glancing at his protégé with a raised eyebrow, Harley asked with a snort.
"Bah, screw you, Old Man," the blonde man grumbled while cracking his neck. "...Why does all the top-tier hardware always get delivered in the middle of the night. Can't we have a 'normal' schedule for once?"
The dwarven professor laughed, giving him a hearty clap on the back before gesturing toward the convoy as it came to a halt. "Oh, come on, you somber son of a gun. This is how we get the good stuff! Now, let's see what we've got here."
Emre stretched his arms above his head, letting out a groan before straightening up. "Alright, fine. Just another night around here, I guess." As the crewmen around them sprang into action, Emre gave a low whistle of admiration as he walked over to the nearest truck.
Just by eyeballing it, they could see that the vehicles were larger in terms of dimensions when compared to the existing military trucks, each stretching about 10 meters long, nearly 2,5 meters wide, and standing 3 meters tall. The front cab's boxy angular design sat high off the ground, featuring large reinforced rectangular windows and large side mirrors jutting out. When he crouched a bit, Emre squinted at the deep treads of the truck's enormous tires. Definitely made for rough terrain. He also recalled the sound the truck's engine emitted before coming to a full stop, a unique whirring howl that sounded like a more aggressive version of the whine that a lightning-type motor produced. Something that sounds like that has only been heard coming out of an einherjar before.
Emre hummed. Even truck engines are using Manadriver technology now, he mused.
At any rate, it was more satisfying to hear than Robin's obnoxious fire-spewing prototype Trychaser.
He turned his gaze to the trucks lined up beside the first one. The ones parked at the outermost flanks had tall cargo containers secured to the backs. One in the middle carried a cylindrical fuel tank, while the last truck next to it, where most of the crew had gathered, featured a large trailer with windows along a quarter of its length, resembling the mobile command center design the Imperial Army had recently proposed.
"Hey."
As Emre strolled past the second truck, he heard a familiar voice call out from above. A mop of silver hair poked out of the truck's window, with its owner grinning at him.
"Hey yourself, Ashera."
"Out of another midnight shift, Bat-Man?"
Emre waved lazily in the third Roguerider child's direction. "Yes, yes, whatever. Gotta be here. You know, since I'm apparently so smart the Boss told me to join the team."
"Lucky you."
Emre let out an exaggerated sigh before glancing around. "Speaking of luck... can I smoke around here?" he asked, hand already prepared to reach for his Lucky Star pack.
"Absolutely not!" Ashera sharply retorted.
Emre whined but didn't push it. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he sulked and mumbled to himself. Slipping down from the truck, Ashera donned a jacket over the black T-shirt she was wearing and fell into step beside him, heading toward the crowd around the last truck. As they approached, Harley spotted the silver glint and grinned.
"What a good way to start the day, isn't it, Chief?"
Presenting the delivered vehicles to the assembled crew members, Ashera gave Harley a cheeky grin, much to the dwarf's amusement.
"By the way, Mrs. Lippin sends her regards."
Harley raised an eyebrow. "Oh, does she now? How thoughtful of that boss lady. Maybe I'll have Arsene tell her I'm still kicking."
"Heh."
Turning his attention back to the fourth truck's impressive build, Harley nodded to himself and remarked. "So, it's been decided that these are the latest additions to the Army's equipment."
"Got to have them stop whining..."
Ashera nodded eagerly, confirming Harley's observation. Even though it's been years since the Imperial Army started to receive serious upgrades in this Third Timeline, the lingering stigma surrounding them as constant complainers about their outdated technology (in comparison to other Holy Empire military branches, of course) persists. Though, their complaints were somewhat justified, given that they're the branch that has faced the most monsters left behind by the Ancient Sorcerous Empire. It's hard to feel too sympathetic, though, considering how abrasive their leadership tends to be.
At any rate, with the anticipated newest land-based equipment finally here, the night shift began to feel a little less dreary for the team, and the prospect of working on them sparked a flicker of excitement in the muscular dwarven professor's eyes.
Ashera offered. "Do you want to check the M-XAM, Professor?"
"Oh, sure thing. Let's have a look at it!"
"...Isn't that supposed to be the star of tonight's delivery?"
While the three of them moved to the back of the truck with the windowed trailer, Emre let out a snark, unconsciously reaching for his cigarettes before he realized what he was about to do and snapped his hand away. Since the others waited for Harley's instructions, no one made a move to tamper with the new arrivals.
The four trucks were later pre-production models of the Heavy Expanded Logistics Vehicle System (HELVS), a 10-ton eight-wheel drive tactical truck developed through a collaboration between the Roguerider Foundation and the automotive branch of the Amygdala Enterprises, a conglomerate owned by Cassandra, Arsene Lippin's wife. Created partly in anticipation of the einherjar, rocket artillery, and guided magic bullets entering widespread service within the Holy Empire's military, the HELVS was designed to provide heavy transport solutions for supplying and resupplying combat vehicles and weapon systems, offering increased payload and mobility compared to the existing 5-ton trucks in Imperial Army service.
Even if they were made for a country where soldiers can magically bend the landscape to their convenience, the HELVS was engineered to be able to navigate diverse terrains on its own, ensuring that essential supplies reached their destinations under any conditions. The trucks were also expected to boast impressive versatility, with various configurations available including cargo, tanker, tractor, and wrecker.
"Alright, let's open it up!"
The crewmen quickly responded, gathering around the rear of the fourth truck. With a few quick motions, they unlocked and unlatched the back doors. Slowly, they swung them open, revealing the trailer's interior. Magic circuits lined the side walls and ceiling, softly glowing in a faint light green hue. At the far end of the trailer, separated from the main area, was a reinforced glass barrier, forming what appeared to be a control section.
"...Are those made of pedanium?" Harley asked, referring to the circuits.
Ashera, standing beside him with her hands casually in her jacket pockets, smirked.
"Sure are, Professor. Every single one of them."
That comment earned a round of gasps from the crew members. Emre, who was no longer sleepy after witnessing the sight, shook his hand and gave a low whistle.
"Well, I'll be damned."
"You guys are dead serious about reinventing modern warfare..."
"What can I say? First of all, we dread the Ancient Sorcerous Empire's return... But we also like to have a good laugh at the naysayers' faces."
"Really? Did you just imply that you sometimes do things out of spite?"
"Oh, yes. Sometimes 'spite' is a very powerful motivator, especially when you need to go beyond the impossible. It doesn't matter if your idea sounds stupid, all you need to do is win. And as far as I'm concerned, absolutely nobody in this world is even remotely close to replicating the Cauldrons other than us, so I'd say we won, spectacularly," Ashera stated cheerfully, causing Emre and Harley to let out chuckles of discomfort, wondering if it's really healthy to possess such a mindset. Or should I say, grindset.
Not that trying to talk the Rogueriders in general out of it is easy. The moment you say what's 'realistic' to their face, they will pull out something to spite you and suddenly what's unrealistic becomes completely feasible. This makes it hard to label them as mere naïve idealists, especially since their work has gained admiration from the upper echelons. Calling them useful would be an understatement, given the significant improvements they've made to the Holy Empire's anti-Apocalypse strategy.
It's no surprise that this family and the Legendorgas get along so well, they're cut from the same cloth. However, while the boastful Phoenix craves attention, the Tiger is more reserved, quietly going about their business. This gives them a more intense, almost vengeful aura.
The HELVS project was a reasonable idea that gained the recognition it deserved after being proposed to the Imperial Army, which swiftly secured a contract for the trucks. However, the Roguerider Foundation also intended to use the system as a foundational model for their much more ambitious Mobile XAM System—the special trailer carried by the fourth truck, aiming to use the trucks to create a version of their vaunted Cauldron on wheels. Due to the Order of the Ancients' influence on the Holy Empire's leadership, they began treating the Foundation's technology in a similar manner to the Ancient Sorcerous Empire's relics. As a result, this technology was ordered to be sent to the MOASEC first for collaboration and knowledge accumulation before any consideration of practical application, where the MOASEC personnel got to see the situation with the Foundation engineers working on the Cauldron technology.
Even though not everyone in the Foundation thinks this way, some are working on the M-XAM wholeheartedly expecting that society as a whole will view their plan as stupid, batshit insane, and wildly fantastical, even for a magical civilization. The benefits and advantages such a technology promises over competitors do seem too good to be true. This filled such individuals with a burning drive to prove them wrong in the most glorious way.
And breaking news: they really go beyond what is considered impossible. Those mad lads actually did it. They and their technology actually created a futuristic hyper-advanced factory that can churn out equipment using just design data, Amrita, and whatever raw materials are available.
It sounded like a very advanced form of foraging, but with water and random rocks instead of actual supplies, an army unit fielding M-XAMs will obtain the ability to literally produce ammunition, guns, or whatever else they need on the spot, without needing to worry about supply lines. If Leonius had even one of these, the Parpaldia Empire might already be reaching the seas of Northern Philades, given how ludicrous an M-XAM's capability to utterly trivialize logistics, of which the lack of it was noted to be the bane of their northern invasions.
At that moment, Emre scratched his chin and then turned to Ashera. "So, uh... just out of curiosity, do this thing... I dunno... make food? What's a Cauldron cannot build, anyway?"
The question seemed to linger in the air for a moment before Ashera's face lit up. "Food huh?" She cocked her head, clearly taking it as an intriguing challenge. "We haven't quite gotten there yet, but now that you mention it... I wonder if we could pull it off."
"Imagine that, a mobile production line that not only builds weapons but whips up meals on the spot."
"Hey, if we're making the impossible possible, might as well aim for convenience, right?" Ashera shrugged.
"Now that would be something. You could roll into a disaster zone and practically solve supply and logistics problems at once. No need for large-scale relief convoys. The Cauldron could just make what's needed on-site. Tools, shelters, and maybe even food, if you crack that part."
"Sure, sure," Emre mused, "but there's gotta be a downside, right? I mean, what happens when these Cauldrons replace every supply chain? It's great during disasters or wars, but it could also put a lot of people out of work. Imagine how many jobs are tied to logistics alone."
His two companions turned to stare at him. Feeling that nothing was wrong with his take, Emre continued.
"Well, sorry to rain on your parade. First of all, don't get me wrong, this thing is incredible, but it could really shake things up. What happens when the workforce is suddenly obsolete? Not everyone can just 'retrain' for something new. Yes, I'm down with fantasy stuff, but I'm too used to living with a realistic outlook in mind."
"I think everyone is," Harley offhandedly commented.
Though usually upbeat, Ashera pursed her lips at those words. She let out a slow sigh, as if the thought had been gnawing at her for a while. What does Pestilence call this situation again? A sign of a plot hole or something?
"No. You're not wrong."
"...I'm glad if someone can prove me wrong, though," Emre dipped his head. "For bad things like that, I'd rather be proven wrong than right."
The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
"Hmm... Uncle Ben also worries about the same thing," Ashera nodded to herself.
Once, "Uncle Ben"—Count Benedict Legendorga, the Imperial Minister of Internal Affairs who is Ashera's uncle by marriage—put a brake to the widespread proliferation of Manadrivers as planned by his own brother, wary of it as a tool easily misused in the wrong hands. He voiced similar apprehensions regarding the introduction of the Cauldron, fearing that if handled irresponsibly, this promising tool could instead destabilize the very society Lucius of the Morning Star had spent centuries building. Bless his genuine heart.
As much as it was very much irritating for a certain person, unfortunately it was a concern in real life that one cannot simply doublethink out of it.
"But you know what? I love being right. Then, there's no other choice other than to try to prove you wrong."
"How?"
"......Do I look like someone to give you an essay?" Ashera sniffed. "Give us time, man. I'm not forgetful even more so with how the decision-makers up there always warned us the moment Meteos invented the Cauldron."
"Okay, that's on me. I'm being too pushy."
"You're on the team, right? You get the chance to do something about it."
"Hmm," Emre pondered.
Having shed its previous reputation as a money drain with little to show for it, the Ministry of Ancient Sorcerous Empire Countermeasures is increasingly seen, and not without reason, as a prestigious workplace where one can indulge in the fascinating relics of a long-lost era. However, an aspect of MOASEC that the Emperor values as much as "discovery" and "research and development" is, in fact, "education."
Of how not to become the Ancient Sorcerous Empire, to not repeat their sins.
To be better than an entire race who was wronged, but lashed out against the world's injustices in such a horrific way.
Yet, there's always room for guidance on how not to destroy a civilization in other ways. At that thought, Emre Senturya allowed himself a small grin.
"That's actually true."
"Ah, dang it!" Ashera exclaimed, slapping her forehead. "I almost forgot—Meteos!"
"What? What about him?"
Before Ashera could answer, the side door of the trailer opened with a soft hiss. Emerging from the shadowed interior was a groggy Meteos Roguerider. His unkempt silver hair and half-closed eyes made it clear that he had just woken up from sleep.
Harley blinked in disbelief. "What the—? You were in there this whole time, boy?"
After tidying up his hair, the boy gave a nonchalant wave in response. Meteos walked up to the trio while doing some stretches, glancing around the gathered crew.
"I was checking this Cauldron."
"No, I mean, aren't you supposed to be in the middle of an exam? Tomorrow is the day, right? I thought you'd like to study. Hell, maybe take it easy and relax?"
Meteos shrugged. "This is me taking it easy."
"Of course."
"At any rate, because a full factory-sized Cauldron for the Ministry as per the agreement is unavailable until much later, what you see here is the best we could pull off for now. Think of it as the taste of what's to come."
"Bah, I don't accept your apology," Harley chided him. "You've handed us a damn miracle on wheels here I see nothing to apologize for."
"Have fun with it, then—"
Meteos' speech was cut short by a vibration emanating from inside his jacket's inner pocket and casually pulled a slim grimoire with a black casing. Glancing at the notification on his phone with the usual air of someone receiving a phone call at any other time, he then turned to his sister and associates.
"I need to take this call. As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted... have fun with our new tech, but a good night's rest will do for now. Ladies and gentlemen."
As he turned on his heel and went back to the trailer, Harley chuckled and turned to the assembled crew. "Well, folks, I think that's enough excitement for one night. We'll be picking this up at a later date. Then, we'll see just what this machine can really do. Enjoy your early weekend, everyone!"
❖⟐❖⟐❖
Eyes of the Order, Holy Milishial Empire
Lugiel had been taught that a ruler must be prepared for every kind of enemy, not just those who declared themselves openly. Amidst her work, her mind wandered back to a simple matrix she had made as a child.
There are those who are competent but predictable. If an enemy had to be intelligent, Lugiel would have preferred them to be the kind whose thought process follows a foreseeable path. Against them, a well-crafted strategy could be formed, one that accounted for their every move. Drawing from the experience of her ancestor Milishial VIII during the Warring Kingdoms Period, she recalled that he referred to such leaders as "Strategic Leaders." Even at his worst, the Seventh Milishial Emperor, Bilgamed of the Unflinching Star, was considered this type.
There are the incompetent and predictable—fools with power. Easy to manipulate, easy to control. Lugiel knew better than to underestimate them, but they could be led into traps, made to overextend their reach. Sometimes erratic, even worse offshoots of this type appear, but they rarely last long before their own folly destroys them.
Finally, there's the competent but unpredictable type. The most dangerous kind of instinctual opponent. Their talent is undeniable, but they also operate outside the conventional bounds of logic. Lugiel feared and hated these enemies in equal measure, for with them, even the most intricate of plans could fall apart.
Tonight, the Princess felt relieved that a certain individual continued to act within predictable bounds.
When Amon's holographic projection appeared for the meeting, completing the de facto high council of the White Lotus, Lugiel wanted to offer the boy a smile, though her Magister Sorath's mask prevented it. Adjusting her posture slightly, the masked Princess proceeded to preface the meeting.
"To begin, I would like to inform you that the Gynamo Outpost has intercepted a transmission through the communications station the White Lotus Leader recently captured. It originated from the Annonrial mainland, and once decoded, the message revealed a directive to 'increase disruptive activities' in a region that spans both Southern Mu and Northern Magicaraich."
As Sorath spoke, a projection of the continent in question appeared in the middle of the circle, highlighting a specific region in a soft orange hue. From the collaborators who leaked their own country's codebook, the White Lotus had learned how the Annonrial Empire encoded their communications and deciphered the cryptic sequences of letters and numbers that designated time and location for operations.
"Increased disruption activities could mean sabotage," Magister Eblis noted. "Magister Sorath, did the directive specify anything more?"
"The directive itself is vague. There's no specific action mentioned. It could mean anything while we'll need to prepare for a range of possibilities."
"So, they're leaving the details to the field operatives' discretion?"
"From what we can discern, it seems so."
"...At least they're testing the waters first, so to say," Amon muttered as he nodded slowly. His body language exuded an emotion of relief, which the meeting participants found rather justified.
Amon himself was the one who had very recently captured the very communications station responsible for this interception. Yet, even after their success, it had been almost three months since the initial sign of Annonrial's plans to hinder their anti-Ravernal operations surfaced.
Three months of waiting, planning, and speculating on what the Annonrial Empire was plotting.
Thankfully, Zarathostra of the Messiah proved himself to be a competent and sane ruler, which means that with his predictable strategy, he can still be countered by the White Lotus' maximum effort.
"Then this is only the beginning. If they're probing for weaknesses now, the real strike could come later," Magister Tephras remarked. "Wait a moment... could it be that they're trying to start a second Mu Civil War? And drag our country somewhere in the process?"
"What do you think, Magister Sorath?" Amon asked the Princess first.
Sorath took a moment to consider Tephras' suggestion.
"It's possible. Even if the Anfang Republic movement no longer exists, our operatives have confirmed and monitored multiple separatist movements rooted in Southern Muish ethnocentrism. Someone intent on destabilizing Mu could easily manipulate these tensions." She gestured toward the orange-highlighted map. "These groups still find sympathetic support, especially within Magicaraich. Publicly, their people may look down on their magicless cousins in Southern Mu, but the elite quietly supported them, much like they did thirty years ago. The complication now is that Magicaraich is more aligned with the Holy Empire, and our country is no longer as indifferent to the Second Civilization Area's affairs as it once was with how the dynamics change between those countries."
"........."
The leadership of the Holy Empire initially decided that the lengthy Mu Civil War, which concluded with a victory for the northern faction, would both weaken Mu and prevent Magicaraich from gaining strength by absorbing the breakaway state as a scenario they deemed inevitable in a southern victory scenario. Three decades later, as Mu began to exhibit signs of military strengthening despite its internal struggles and the Southern Mu people had developed a distinct identity, their perspective changed. They now entertained the idea of an independent nation emerging in the region between Mu and Magicaraich, one that would hopefully be more open to magical civilizations than the hardheads of Mu could ever be and therefore easier for the Holy Empire to influence. Their 'magic is not science' outlook on life is all bullshit, anyway. Worse, their stubbornness would make for a deadweight in the World's Defense Line Plan.
"........."
Amon frowned at that. Now that he thought about it, he started to notice some strange quirks possessed by the entities not belonging to this world. It laid credence to Kagaseo's theory of the existence of some kind of 'summoning curse' at play. In addition, it was Pestilence himself who once said that he summoned those countries in the Civilization Annihilation Game to prove to Death that no matter who they are, no matter how much time has passed since they were the worst versions of themselves, those 'protagonists' will always be monsters.
However, this shift was contingent on the Holy Empire, which claims to be the defender of the world while aspiring to remain the strongest, never breaking the rule of not smearing its own face by choosing sides to a 'pointless' war happening elsewhere. The Order of the Ancients' manipulation of Parpaldia's northern campaign is but one example of such a national policy of being indifferent on the surface but ruthlessly cutthroat behind the scenes.
With great power, comes the great responsibility to stay powerful.
Oh, please. Like your country's intelligence assets are baking cookies and holding charity concerts.
In any case, if the White Lotus' theories are accurate, Annonrial's immediate goal is to test this rule or even manufacture a foreign conflict to drag the Holy Empire into it. Naturally, a collapse of the global order would allow Annonrial to operate with greater freedom. The Ravernal Empire will genocide the remaining species after they return, anyway, lives lost in a potential world war are just a bonus.
"At least we came prepared for this."
Magister Enepsigos raised her hand. "But Magister Sorath, how prepared are our assets in response to Annonrial's movements? Do we have enough people in place to counteract their potential plans?"
"Ever since August, we've been ramping up our Plan QUADRANT operations..." Sorath began. QUADRANT is the name of the Eyes of the Order's activities in the eastern Mu Continent. "More operatives have been dispatched to Mu specifically to monitor any activities that could be used to sow chaos."
"Are we focused on any specific area in particular?" Enepsigos asked worriedly.
"Unfortunately no. They are spread throughout the country, but we do have a greater concentration in Southern Mu as it happens to be a zone rife with dissidents. This is a fortunate coincidence, as we've found that this is where Annonrial will be poised to act."
"Oh, and one more thing, Magister Sorath. We need to heighten the vigilance against enemy underwater assets. Related to the worst-case scenario I once told you, I'm worried about the possibility of Annonrial submarines intensifying their attacks on shipping in international waters beyond their Absolute Kill Zone. It sounds like something the Messiah would order."
"I understand. Let's hope my proposal to His Majesty will be approved," Sorath nodded.
"If push comes to shove, I'll have to go there myself..." Amon muttered again, more to himself than anyone else.
"Let's hope it doesn't come to that."
At that, the meeting participants agreed. The White Lotus Leader's magical abilities that can help them accelerate the construction of Cauldrons are essential for advancing the Holy Empire's preparations in ways that mere manipulation cannot achieve. The Holy Empire will still lose if the Annonrial Empire suddenly decides to drop all pretense of playing chess and just charge at them with brute force.
"I know."
He's an engineer and a killer in self-defense much later in his first life, Amon reminisced with a grimace. Even now, he's still learning how to lead and strategize, fields outside his original specialty. At the end of the meeting, Amon's thoughts flickered back to Zarathostra of the Messiah, his unseen adversary.
'Let's just pray that he remains sane and competent. A predictable enemy is much easier to strategize against than a deranged one. Goddess Astarte, what has this world come into? Now I'm worried about a Devil's mental health...'
❖⟐❖⟐❖
After the meeting, the capital city's streets turned wet and glistening from the soft drizzle that had begun shortly after midnight. After observing someone approaching the parked car, the passenger door opened without a sound, revealing a middle-aged-looking man who entered. He looked like any other man one might pass by on the streets of the city, with unremarkable features, but his face had a fatherly air about him. His long silver hair fell in loose strands past his shoulders, slightly damp from the rain.
The older man settled into the passenger seat, closing the door softly behind him. As he sat down, he did so with the poise of someone long accustomed to duty and formality.
"You don't need to be so stiff," another man who was already inside the car waved him off. "I'm not someone to fear. This time, I want you to treat me just like everyone else."
"Well... for people like us, it's not every day one gets to meet someone of your stature."
The older man inclined his head, accompanied with a chuckle to ease the tension he felt. Though the other man's face was much younger, he carried himself with much dignity.
"I can't sleep," the young man admitted. "So I went for a walk and heard you were back in town. I hope you don't mind me 'abducting' you for a bit."
"I'm at your service."
"You're a person of distinction yourself, Vice Admiral," pointed out the young man. "Among those belonging to the Silent Service, you will always be one of, if not the first."
"The gunners call us 'Turtle Riders,'" the older man, the Vice Admiral, responded with a self-deprecating shrug.
"So I've heard. But between you and me, I like the other epithet better. No-Face."
The young man turned to study the Vice Admiral's face. His eyes seemed to probe beneath the older man's exterior.
"I want to hear your opinion, Vice Admiral, about a certain Second Civilization Area country's maritime power. Why do you think I haven't heard anything about Mu pushing their underwater warfare capabilities by now?"
"Based on what we gathered, I think it's not a matter of technology..."
There was a pause as the Vice Admiral mulled over the question further.
"Mu has the components they need to expand their capabilities. It seems more like a very severe case of organizational issues. As a superpower's military arm, the assessment is that Mu's navy is the worst when it comes to personnel. The only reason Mu's navy is ever considered strong is that the remaining superpower navies are so backward it's almost impossible for even a navy of idiots to lose. It's like a fish in a pond of shallow waters; it might look impressive, but once you take it out, you see how little it can really do."
The young man nodded. "But if a war were to break out in the Second Civilization Area, do you think they would be able to develop their underwater capabilities?"
"I would rather kill all of Mu's naval personnel and start from scratch. It will be faster that way," the Vice Admiral smiled.
"I hope that kind of confidence doesn't bring unintended consequences for the Silent Service."
The Vice Admiral's easy smile faltered slightly. He had known this man long enough to recognize when something grave was being hinted at.
"I've been thinking about the future, and I need you to help me."
"I see, what do you want me to do?"
"Start studying. I want to see how long it will take before the Muish Royal Navy realizes that it isn't natural disasters that bring down their fighting ships. Hence why I notified you in advance."
"Ah...!" the Vice Admiral's eyes gleamed in anticipation. "That's quite a bold leap, but if that's what you need, then once I return to my post, I will begin immediately. I'll have something in place soon enough."
The younger man nodded. His expression remained impassive, but there was a faint flicker of approval behind his demeanor. A snap from his fingers triggered the door mechanism on the Vice Admiral's side to open. The older man turned at the incoming light breeze and knew immediately what it signified. It was time to leave.
"Don't disappoint, No-Face."
"Your wish is my command, Your Radiance."
The Vice Admiral simply inclined his head slightly before getting out and immediately walked away, not looking back at the departing car. Bowing would defeat the purpose of the man in the car's excursion to the capital city, it seems.
Shortly after, Vice Admiral Sigma S. Stoller, commander of Emperor Zarathostra of the Messiah's trusted Fleet of Particular Justice, headed back to the moorings of his flagship Deva Loka, one of the new Svarga-class attack submarines. The formal order for No-Face's unit would come a little bit later, but with the Emperor's blessing, Stoller had a head start to prepare for what lay ahead.
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The Available Information from Beyond
RAHAB-CLASS CRUISER SUBMARINE
image [https://img.wattpad.com/cdaf84568ce640cfd40c7075d061c011947fa7c3/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f5f4a6b30577235796f6f634a64513d3d2d313438363532333639392e313830303830626336633731383465623632323132303535323137382e706e67?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]
A class of long-range cruiser submarines with a heavy torpedo and gun armament, intended to operate as both a fleet submarine working with the battle fleet or as long-range raiders operating outside the Annonrial Empire's Absolute Kill Zone.
Specifications
- Displacement: 1.490 tons surfaced; 2.600 tons submerged
- Length: 97,65 m
- Beam: 7,4 m
- Draft: 4,51 m
- Propulsion: two sets of magic engines, 2 thrusters
- Speed: 22,5 knots (41,7 km/h) surfaced; 10 knots (19 km/h) submerged
- Range: 14.000 nautical miles (26.000 km) at 11 knots (20 km/h)
- Test depth: 200 m
- Crew: 67 (10 officers)
- Armament:
- 8 × torpedo tubes (six bow, two stern)
- 2 × stern-facing external torpedo launchers
- 2 × 100 mm (4 in) deck guns
- 2 × 45 mm (1,8 in) AA guns
- 20 × mines