Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

Winters then grabbed a small bucket onboard, placing four metal containers that were emitting thick smoke inside and used all his strength to push the barrel into the water and towards the shore.

Through the standard spellcasting materials provided by the Magic War Department of the Alliance, the Alliance's spellcasters could reproduce the "Smoke Spell" effects of the Imperial Court Mages.

Winters didn't know what was inside those metal containers, which contained precious alchemical products. He only knew that releasing a fire spell on the substance inside could create thick smoke, and that was enough for him.

Swordsmen don't need to know how to forge swords, and spellcasters don't need to understand alchemy. Users don't need to know the principles; they just need to know how to use it.

The full name of these metal containers was "Trigger-type Portable Activated Alchemical Substance Smoke Generator," but the officer spellcasters simply called them "Smoke Grenades."

This was the Senas Alliance version of the Smoke Spell. Although they didn't know how the court mages' original spells were cast, the effect was the same, which was enough for the Magic War Department.

The billowing thick smoke drifted with the wind toward the east coast, pulling up a smoke screen between Tanilia on the shore and the Venetians on the ship, blocking the range of long-distance weapons.

The small boat behind the smoke was but a blur, and the Tanilia on the shore could only fire wildly, greatly reducing the pressure on Winters's small boat.

"You should have used it earlier!" Andre exclaimed, excitedly thumping Winters on the back with a punch.

"I've used up all four Smoke Grenades at once; I won't know what to use against the Bastion later," Winters said with bloodshot eyes, uncontrollably tearing up from the smoke as he forced a bitter smile.

"Why haven't the cannons on the Bastion started firing yet?" Bard, who had been silently rowing, suddenly spoke up.

The oarsmen exerted themselves as if their lives depended on it, and the thirty-odd small boats swiftly glided over the surface of the bay. Winters estimated that they were less than four hundred meters from the dock, well within range of a pound or larger cannon directed at them.

Yet the Bastion remained silent.

Winters's heart sank a little more. The commander of the Bastion was either terrifyingly calm, waiting to punish the Venetians severely when they got closer, or the Tanilia had enough forces not to waste gunpowder.

It was also possible that they had moved the cannons to the newly built battery... Could that really be the case?

Winters looked toward the small boat carrying Colonel Kongtai'er; what was going through a commander's mind when he led his men toward certain doom?

——Cut——

After the concealed second battery revealed its fangs, the situation at the battery guarding the entrance to the bay, occupied by Antonio's guards, was also hanging by a thread.

The battery was designed mainly to combat enemies from the sea, not to defend against attacks from land. Continue reading on empire

The Tanilia, who had seemingly retreated from the battery, turned around and launched a fierce attack. Outnumbered, the guards began a bloody melee in the battery, with the flagman on the top desperately waving the military flag for help.

"What the hell is going on?!" Nalesho, a gentlemanly figure, grabbed the messenger from Red Sulfur Island by the collar, rarely swearing.

"I... I don't know either!" The messenger turned pale, drenched in sweat, his expression full of terror: "It's a misunderstanding, all a misunderstanding."

Furious, Major General Nalesho smashed a punch down onto the messenger's nose bridge: "Is this a misunderstanding?"

Then came an even harder punch: "Is this a misunderstanding?!"

The messenger was almost knocked unconscious, with blood rushing back into his windpipe, coughing up blood continuously.

"Your Excellency!" Antonio stepped in to stop the enraged Nalesho. There was not a trace of 'I told you so' satisfaction on his face now, only calm and restraint: "Spare his life; we have more pressing matters! Provide boats for my troops to land; we must take this battery quickly!"

The deck of The Glorious was in a state of chaos, with officers ordering sailors back to their positions, midshipmen scrambling to get the gunpowder, and a few cannons already retaliating, a choking cloud of smoke enveloping The Glorious.

The entire fleet was plunged into disorder; some ships wanted to turn and leave but were blocked within, others wanted to return fire with their cannons but were obstructed by friendly ships.

Nalesho, gasping for breath, stared at the deck below and said, "No good! There are no boats left."

"What do you mean there are no boats?" Antonio was also becoming somewhat impatient.

"The teams sent to occupy the Bastion just now took most of the small boats. The few remaining small boats can carry at most two hundred men. If two hundred can't take down the battery, the fleet will be trapped here!" Nalesho said, panting: "The wind is against us; the remaining small boats have to be used to tug the big ships out of here."

Then, the Naval Vice Admiral regained his usual commanding composure: "Mr. Kalaman!"

"Yes, Commander!"

"Release all the remaining small boats! Tug the big ships to turn around; we're leaving this place!"

"Yes, Commander!"

"Send the galley out first! Have The White Eagle's sailors swim to the battery at the mouth of the bay!"

"Yes, Commander!"

Kalaman saluted and left the bow with swift efficiency.

"Why not let the troop transports beach?" Antonio struggled not to question him in front of Nalesho's subordinates.

"No, Saint Hilary has a sandy beach, but here the shore is all reefs. The ships would run aground before reaching the shore; we have no choice but to swim, making us sitting ducks!" Nalesho explained rapidly.

Antonio fell silent.

"The battery at the mouth of the bay cannot be held either. There surely is another chain there!" Nalesho said through clenched teeth: "The Tanilians are going all out; they're not just after your hundred-man team! If we don't leave now, the whole fleet will be trapped in the bay! We must save the fleet!"

"General Serviati!" For the first time, Nalesho used the highest form of address for Antonio, who was more than a decade his junior. The naval vice admiral said sorrowfully, "Your men cannot be saved, and neither can mine. This is my responsibility, which I will not shirk. But right now, I have no selfish intentions; the fleet must leave immediately."

Antonio understood that the vice admiral was right; the priority was to escape the ambush as soon as possible. As the leader of the legion, he had to place the survival of his force above all else.

The commander of the great Vineta legion reluctantly agreed to the vice admiral's retreat order.

In the midst of continuous cannon fire, the fleet began to rescue sailors from the wrecked ships, turning around with the aid of smaller boats, ready to leave.

The Tanilians brought out dozens of fire ships made from modified canoes, and Venetian sailors, biting on daggers, leaped into the sea; both sides engaged in a brutal struggle on the water.

Inside the battery at the bay's mouth, a bloody melee continued.

Antonio watched as the one-hundred-man team's boat rowed towards Red Sulfur Harbor, drawing ever closer to the dock.

The waters inside the bay, initially calm, began to churn.

On the boat, Winters also noticed this change; the mood of the ocean seemed to shift, causing the boat to become unsteady.

"Is something wrong?" Winters asked, puzzled as he watched the increasingly turbulent water.

Under everyone's gaze, the unbelievable happened: the waves changed direction, surging from the shore towards the open sea.

The boats approaching the dock suddenly stalled in their advance, caught by the waves and pushed back rather than forward.

Yet the anomalies did not cease; inside the harbor, which should have been calm, the tidal waves grew higher with each swell, all rolling from the direction of the dock out to sea.

"My God, what is that!" One sailor yelled in terror.

In front of them, the turbulent water formed into a wave as high as three meters, the raging surf thundering and roaring, lifting thousands of whitecaps as it struck the Venetians' boat.

Several large ships from the Vineta fleet, a kilometer away from the small boat, also lost control, pushed and bashed together by this massive wave.

After the wave passed, even the seawater along the coast retreated three meters from its original position.

The sea then mysteriously returned to calm, and the water surged back to its original place.

The Venetians' small ships, all capsized.

Winters was thrown into the sea, the salty water stinging his eyes shut; his heavy armor and weapons dragged at him, pulling him down into the depths.

The pressure of the water grew more intense, squeezing out the last bit of air from his lungs. He desperately told himself not to inhale, not to inhale, but a surge of seawater still flooded his nostrils, followed by even more.

In the merciless ocean, Winters struggled to remove his helmet, fumbled to unfasten his breastplate, and cast his sword and sidearm into the depths.

But it was no use; he kept sinking.

Then it dawned on him, "Right, I can't swim... so what am I struggling for?"

He could no longer think, as the severe lack of oxygen deprived him of his ability to reason.

When he ceased to struggle, a pair of strong hands grabbed his clothes, pulling him toward the shore.