In The Ocean Near The Principality Of Musten, Entry To The Ocean Of Musten, Capital Port City Of Musten, Near A Landing Beach Head.

1st Year of God, Friday, 1st Week, Month Of Moses.

A week had passed since the neutral nations' escalation. Troops had already gathered at the borders, and navies set sail towards their adversaries. Despite the Tarxan Coalition’s numerical superiority, the Iron Kingdom didn't lost any hope. Rather than retreat, they took the initiative and immediately targeted their nearest enemy, which was the Principality of Musten, another Elven kingdom much like Tarxa, inhabited largely by elves.

Just weeks ago, Musten had been neutral. However, after a series of coordinated assassinations wiped out many of its aristocrats in a single day, they immediately mobilized for war against the Iron Kingdom, who was the only sole aggressor in the Third Civilization Zone, as they believed.

The Iron Kingdom, however, had anticipated this. They expected Musten’s eventual involvement and, without waiting for an official declaration of war, the Iron Kingdom was already one step against them.

The Iron Kingdom already sent a large contingent of soldiers into the Musten’s borders, and a fleet of ironclad warships set sail to raid Musten’s capital port. Their goal was to quickly eliminated the threat near their border, rally the other Dwarven nations to join them, and use the swift victory to boost their soldiers' morale. A crushing blow would also cripple the confidence of the Tarxan Coalition, making them more vulnerable.

For an entire week, the Iron Kingdom’s fleet, composed of numerous ironclads, sailed steadily toward the ocean of Musten. When they arrived, they immediately formed a naval blockade around the capital port.

News of the Iron Kingdom’s arrival shocked the Prince of Musten with his face ashen as he learned of the powerful fleet outside his city. Thankfully, Musten’s own naval ships had already formed a defensive formation. The battle will be tough as the Principality uses wooden ships of the lines and not ironclad ships.

Still, they were prepared to face ironclad ships, but as they observed the approaching fleet, what they saw made them lose all hope.

These were no ordinary ironclads. The vessels were made entirely of metal, adamantite, no less, a magical material that struck fear into the hearts of those who recognized it. And their design was alien. There were no sails. Instead, large chimneys spewed thick smoke into the air and propelled the massive ships forward.

The citizens of the port stared in awe, baffled by the sheer size and power of the ironclads. They wondered how such behemoths moved, though it would be some time before they uncovered the secrets behind the Iron Kingdom’s technological marvels.

The Principality’s only option now was to send a Land Dragon messenger to another port far from the capital. Inside that port lies a small contingent of ships of the line remained stationed, and the hope was that they could escape the blockade and alert the Tarxan Coalition. If successful, the coalition might break the Iron Kingdom's stranglehold on the capital’s port.

But for now, Musten had no choice but to hold off the Iron Kingdom’s naval forces as long as possible.

Unfortunately for the Principality, more dire news arrived from the Principality’s outskirts. The Iron Kingdom’s land forces had already crossed their borders, something Musten had nearly forgotten in the middle of the naval crisis. Though their shared border with the Iron Kingdom was small, it was large enough for an invasion force to slip through.

Now that the Iron Kingdom land forces had already entered the borders, that means villages were already being razed, and it would be only a matter of days before these forces reached the capital.

Now the only remaining hope for the technologically feeble principality was the fleet stationed at another port that was already far from here. However, as if fate had turned against them, another messenger arrived at the palace shortly after.

The prince hoped that it was some kind of miracle that was about to arrive for them, but he was completely wrong. Instead, what he received was a nightmare.

The message containing the entire contingent of ships of the lines from every port had been obliterated, reduced to dust by the Iron Kingdom’s superior might. The prince's face turned pale in despair as the last shred of hope vanished.

Though he had prepared for this war, the prince had never in the damnest of all minds imagined that the dwarves would take the offensive so boldly, even while facing most of the nations in the Third Civilization Zone. He had miscalculated disastrously, underestimating the dwarves and their resolve. Now, he was reaping the consequences which he had sewn.

Instead of negotiating for peace, wallowed by anger and fury at the Iron Kingdom’s audacity, the prince ordered his remaining forces to board the ships of the line. Determined not to surrender, he prepared for one last desperate attempt to break through the naval blockade.

Albeit hesitantly, the elven soldiers and sailors followed the prince as they knew that if they fled now, and the Iron Kingdom were somehow defeated, they would forever be branded as traitors and hunted down for the rest of their lives. So, they placed their hopes in their leader and trust he could somehow break the naval blockade. But, the image of the massive ironclads outside the port city still lingered heavily on their minds, sapping their morale in a downward trend.

The prince boarded his flagship, the grandest of them all, a first-rate ship of the line with three full decks of magic cannons and a flush spar deck, boasting 136 cannon ports. Colorful flags flew from its sails, marking it as the royal vessel. He immediately began issuing orders, and the crew scurried to their stations as signal flags were raised to coordinate the fleet's maneuvers.

But the prince had misjudged his enemy. He expected a battle of honor, only to find himself the target of a bombardment as the Iron Kingdom’s dwarven forces showed no mercy. His ship was the first to be attacked, and a barrage of magic cannon fire erupted from the nearest ironclad, sending towering sprays of water into the air. The prince’s ship was pummeled mercilessly, but to their horror, when the smoke cleared, the ironclad remained unscathed.

It became clear that the dwarves were toying with them. No matter how many cannonballs they fired, the ironclad’s adamantite hull was invincible. Desperation grew as the prince decide to counter it by ordering his crew to increase the magic output of their cannons. But to his disappointment, even at full power, the enchanted cannonballs was lackluster as they barely left a scratch on the ironclad’s gleaming surface.

Adding insult to the injured pride of the Principality, the Iron Kingdom hadn't even once fire a single shot at the elven fleet. It was as if they were mocking the Principality’s forces.

But their luck was about to run out as the ironclads shifted formation ane their magic cannons now aimed directly at the prince’s fleet. The prince ordered evasive maneuvers, but it was too late. The moment the ironclads fired, their cannonballs struck and erupted in fiery explosions, engulfing entire ships in flames with a single shot.

In the blink of an eye, the entire naval force of the Principality was sunk, reducing their ships to wreckage at the bottom of the sea, and their prince killed in action.

With the fleet destroyed, the Iron Kingdom's forces immediately made landfall. They stormed the capital, razing it to the ground in a brutal assault. By the end of the day, the Principality had fallen. Its dignity was shattered, its honor lost, and its riches plundered.

The first engagement in the war between the Tarxan Coalition and the Iron Kingdom ended with victory in the hands of the Iron Kingdom.

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In The Ocean Near The Austronesian People's Empire, Entry To The Exclusive Economic Zone Of Austronesian People's Empire, Somewhere In The Ocean, Somewhere In A Storm.

1st Year of God, Monday, 2nd Week, Month Of Moses.

The Tarxan Coalition was mobilizing at a good rate as allied nations gathered their fleets, with hundreds of thousands of soldiers packed tightly aboard troop carriers.

These ships, designed purely for transport, lacked the firepower to engage in battle, though they were escorted by warships, including several first-rate ships of the line. Additionally, a separate navy had been assembled to confront the Iron Kingdom’s forces in direct combat. However, the coalition was still unaware of the fall of the Principality of Musten, leaving them vulnerable to a potential ambush by the Iron Kingdom.

While the coalition was busy coordinating and assembling their forces, the Iron Kingdom had the opportunity to pick them off in smaller groups, preventing the Tarxan Coalition from uniting into a proper fighting force capable of challenging their technological superiority.

Moreover, the coalition had yet to hear of the Iron Kingdom's newest naval weapon, which was a revolutionary class of ironclad, built entirely from adamantite and without sails.

This magical technological advancement had been kept secret, which gave the Iron Kingdom a significant edge in naval warfare. Whether they intended to use this innovation for defense or to further imperialistic ambitions remained unclear.

What was certain, however, was that the Iron Kingdom had been quietly developing this advanced technology while hiding the scale of their naval expansion. To maintain such a massive and sophisticated fleet in secrecy was an impressive feat, one that surpassed the understanding of most nations in the Third Civilization Zone.

But doubts linger over whether the Iron Kingdom could sustain such a large technologically complicated navy in their arsenal. Producing enough ammunition, magic cannon replacements, and maintaining these adamantite-clad warships over the course of the war would be a true test of their capabilities.

One thing was clear was that the Iron Kingdom’s fleet boasted two types of warships. Their ships of the line, reinforced with wood and steel, were designed for durability, but their pure ironclads, crafted entirely from adamantite, the rarest and strongest metal in the Third Civilization Zone, were practically impervious to cannon fire, both conventional and magical.

For the Tarxan Coalition to even dent these adamantite ironclads, they would need explosive shells for their magic cannons. Unfortunately, they had no way of receiving such intelligence, nor were they even aware of the ironclads’ existence.

As a group of first-rate ships of the line escorted a dozen troop carriers, their peaceful voyage quickly turned violent. A sudden storm, with fierce winds and torrential rain, struck, transforming what had been a calm journey into a chaotic struggle against the elements.

A male Elf carrying a large magic sword in his waist was standing on the captain's deck with his eyes scanning the increasingly violent storm. The wind howled louder, and the sea churned with a growing fury. Sensing the storm getting more violent, he finally stepped out to take command.

As he moved across the deck, his voice rang out above the storm.

“Raise the magic barrier! Protect the ship! Signal the others to get the barriers up on every ship in the fleet!”

His orders were met with swift action as trained and disciplined Elven soldiers rushed to their positions. Chanting magical incantations, they raised their hands, and one by one, bright colored magic barriers formed around each ship. These barriers, glowing in vibrant, colorful hues, enveloped the vessels, leaving enough space for the crew to maneuver the sails and operate the equipment.

However, there was a cost. The soldiers responsible for maintaining the barriers had to remain perfectly still with their hands raised and channeled their magical energy to keep the defenses intact throughout the storm. The effort would drain them quickly, but there was no other choice.

As the magic barriers shimmered into place, the flag bearers began signaling the rest of the fleet. With practiced movements, they waved flags in intricate patterns, and soon, the other ships followed suit. Magic barriers flickered to life across the entire fleet, the bright colors flashing and changing as the protective shields held firm against the wind and rain.

The captain surveyed the scene from his deck, feeling satisfied with the seamless execution of the fleet’s defense. Morale was high, and the crew moved fluently, confident in their ability to weather the storm. But just as hope was rising, the sea itself turned more violent. Towering waves began crashing against the barriers, and strange splashes erupted in the distance, unnaturally large, far beyond what any ordinary storm could produce.

This could only mean one thing.

"Sea monsters!" the captain shouted at the top of his lungs.

At that moment, massive creatures breached the water surface, their dark, scaly forms rising from the depths and circling the fleet like predators ready to strike. Though they had the means to fight back, they faced a dire problem, which is that most of the soldiers were locked in place to sustain the magic barriers. Only a handful remained free to man the magic cannons and cast offensive spells against the sea monsters.

There was no time to hesitate. Dispelling the barriers to focus on the sea monsters would leave the ships destabilized by the storm and risking capsizing their entire fleet below the seas. Therefore, the few remaining soldiers headed into action as they hurried to the magic cannons and began chanting offensive spells, launching attacks at the creatures. But to their horror, the initial blasts bounced harmlessly off the monsters’ tough, armored scales.

Realizing their conventional spells were ineffective, the magicians changed tactics. Those with an affinity for more destructive elements combined their spells and focused their efforts into explosive magic. Only a handful had the skill to perform such complex magic and it would deplete their mana greatly, but it was their best shot. The air crackled with energy as they unleashed a powerful blast.

It was a success as one of the sea monsters reeled back as part of its thick scales cracked, sending it thrashing in pain. But this small victory came at a price as they agitated the wounded creature, which dove beneath the waves and vanished into the dark waters.

Moments later, it resurfaced beneath one of the troop carriers with a terrifying surge. With a roar, the monster threw the ship high into the air. The vessel, filled with soldiers, was tossed like a toy and came crashing down into the sea, splintering on impact and sinking into the depths.

With all its crew in an unknown condition, similar things were happening all over the fleet. All around, ships struggled against both the storm and the sea monsters’ attack. Crew members fought for their lives, exchanging blasts of magic and cannon fire with the creatures that lurked beneath the waves. It continued for almost a few hours that the battle raged on with the storm serving as the backdrop to their desperate fight.

At last, the battle ended as the fleet passed by the storm while the sea monsters retreated. Known for attacking only during storms, the creatures faded into the depths, leaving the battered fleet to limp forward.

The captain stood on the deck of his ship, bruised and exhausted but alive. His vessel had taken damage, though it remained mostly intact. Casualties were unavoidable as some soldiers had perished, and there were moments when the magical barriers failed multiple times, forcing the crew to repeatedly recast the magical barrier to keep the ship from capsizing. All of his soldiers, including him, were basically tied to the brim.

Despite their ordeal, there was no time for rest, and he knew they had to determine their location, so he approached the navigator

“Check our position,” he ordered.

But as the captain approached, he noticed something was wrong, the navigator in a state of visible panic. The man’s hands trembled over the navigation device with his face drained of color. Alarmed, the captain leaned in.

“What’s the problem?”

The navigator struggled to find his voice, but finally spoke with his words halting. “The navigation device... it’s gone haywire. There is a large possibility that we… are in "that" place.”

The captain’s blood ran cold and he could feel sweat beading on his forehead. His mind reeled as he processed the implication and stared at the navigator with disbelief flooding his expression.

“That place? No, it can’t be! We’re hundreds of miles away from where the Queen of Tarxa was supposed to have died!” The captain shouted panckingly. “We’re hundreds of miles away from where that bitch Queen of Tarxa was supposed to have died!”

Overhearing the conversation, the soldiers on deck grew uneasy and exchanged confused looks. Meanwhile, the navigator swallowed hard and forced himself to speak again.

“Sir... the Queen of Tarxa did die far from here, but the storm she vanished into spanned thousands of miles. That’s why no ship sails near this cursed stretch of sea.” His voice quivered as he continued, “It’s not just her death, this is the region where the demons are said to have emerged.”

The captain felt a chill creep down his spine. His hand instinctively tightened around the hilt of his sword and faints of magical energy began to emanate from him. He glanced out at the horizon, unease gnawing at his gut. But before he could fully grasp the implications, a deafening explosion shattered the air.

The ship jolted violently. Another explosion followed in quick succession, this time from the opposite side. The captain spun toward the source of the sound, eyes widening in horror at the sight of burning wreckage, two of his ships obliterated in moments. The acrid scent of smoke filled the air as fires consumed the remains of the vessels.

"Captain!" A voice cried out, but he was already moving with his enhanced elven vision honing in on the distant source of destruction.

Through the fading storm, he saw it. A ship, unlike any he had ever seen before. Gray, ominous, and billowing black smoke from a towering chimney. Its flag, fluttering high in the wind, bore unfamiliar symbols, unknown to any nation of the Third Civilization Zone. He could see the flashes from its cannons, the smoke rising with each shot, and with terrifying clarity, he realized they were under attack.

Another blast rang out, this time aimed directly at his own ship. The captain’s world exploded into fire as the impact sent the vessel reeling and flames tearing through the deck.

“Enemy fire!” someone shouted, but the captain’s mind was already racing. That ship, its flag was something he had never seen before, and its weapons... they were unlike anything he had encountered. The storm and sea monsters had been terrifying, but this, this was something far worse.

As the inferno grew, panic swept through the soldiers. They scrambled to contain the fires, but the damage was already catastrophic. The captain staggered and gripped the railing as smoke and flame enveloped his vision.

As the flames spread across the deck, the captain realized they had stumbled into the heart of something far darker than a cursed sea.

They were now prey for an enemy they didn’t understand, in waters where no one was supposed to survive.

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In The Ocean Near The Iron Kingdom, Entry To The Exclusive Economic Zone Of The Iron Kingdom, Somewhere In The Ocean, Tarxan Coalition Command Ship.

1st Year of God, Friday, 2nd Week, Month Of Moses.

After several more days of mobilizing, the Tarxan Coalition had managed to assemble what they deemed a formidable navy. In their eyes, even the mighty Iron Kingdom could not have foreseen this development. Brimming with confidence, the coalition believed they could now challenge the Iron Kingdom without being overwhelmed. After all, the Iron Kingdom’s ships were no different from those of other nations, an ironclad constructed from a mix of wood, iron, and steel.

Oh, how wrong they were.

Even with this newfound strength, the Tarxan Coalition still had thousands of ships waiting in their home ports, preparing to join the impending conflict. In truth, the current fleet stationed at the ocean's edge near the Iron Kingdom represented only a fraction of their full naval might. Dozens of nations had united under the coalition’s banner, including several that had maintained neutrality until now.

The coalition’s members were united by a common belief which is that they all sincerely believed that the Iron Kingdom was inciting a global revolution among the inferiors. Rumor had it that the Iron Kingdom had provided these inferiors with advanced weapons, repeating muskets of unbelievable range, and other technological devices that seemed almost magical in their effectiveness.

The inferiors, being devoid of mana, posed a unique challenge. It appeared that the Iron Kingdom had developed technology that functioned without relying on magic, a dangerous advancement that the coalition felt must be quashed before it spiraled out of control.

But the true motives of the Iron Kingdom remained a mystery. Despite the coalition’s suspicions, the Iron Kingdom had not enacted any laws recognizing the inferiors as citizens or granting them rights. Observers could not point to any obvious reforms that supported the notion of an "inferior revolution."

If not only for them hearing the repeating rifle that was widely created and developed in the Iron Kingdom, the other nations would have believed that the Tarxan were speaking bollocks.

Unfortunately, the evidence of the Iron Kingdom’s repeating rifle could not be ignored. No other nation within the third civilization zone had the capability to develop such a weapon.

While some speculated that perhaps a more advanced civilization from a higher zone had intervened, this theory is far-fetched as the other nations believed it. Such nations from the higher civilization zones wouldn't bat a single eye into this zone as they wholeheartedly believe that the third civilization zone was barbaric and backward, devoid of any progress and development level, which hardly worth their attention.

In the end, the coalition had little choice but to point fingers and place the blame squarely on the Iron Kingdom, the most likely source of the technological threat they feared.

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A male elf dressed in the elaborate robes of a high-ranking magician was walking purposefully toward a room inside a ship with bright and colorful flags. The ship's sails were in full swing by the wind, propelling it forward with impressive speed, and the vessel glided through the water, enhancing its pace by the blessings of the Goddess of the Wind.

However, to maintain the divine favor, the ship's magic core within its engines needed constant purification. This task fell to a select group of soldiers and sailors, who worked tirelessly to make sure that the core remained pure, providing fuel to the magic engines so that the blessings wouldn't fade prematurely.

The elf, now nearing his destination, entered the room where his subordinates awaited him.

"Greetings, Commodore!" they called out in unison.

"At ease, men," the Commodore replied in a calm but authoritative manner.

Feeling confident and comfortable, the Commodore took his seat and initiated the meeting.

"Situation report!" he commanded.

One of his subordinates stood and delivered the update.

"Commodore, we now have enough ships and manpower to launch a mainland invasion of the Iron Kingdom," the subordinate reported.

The Commodore's eyes gleamed with satisfaction. Everything was falling into place. If all proceeded as planned, they would lead the first wave of the assault on the Iron Kingdom's mainland.

"Excellent. We’ll begin the invasion as scheduled," the Commodore announced, "Our mission is to secure key coastal positions and establish a naval blockade at the Iron Kingdom’s vital ports, preventing their ships from regrouping for a counterattack."

But as sharp as the Commodore was, he noticed a few of his subordinates were sweating nervously. Clearly, there was more to report.

"Are there additional updates?" he pressed.

One subordinate, hesitant at first, finally spoke up. "S-Sir, we’ve lost contact with one of our allies, the Principality of Musten. Moreover, none of their ships have arrived, despite them being closest to the Iron Kingdom. It’s possible the Iron Kingdom has already defeated them."

The Commodore’s expression darkened, feeling flabbergasted by the report.

"That’s impossible!" he barked. "The Iron Kingdom wouldn’t attack another nation without sustaining heavy losses. Yes, I understand that the Musten lacks ships of the line with iron and steel reinforcements, but the Iron Kingdom wouldn’t have emerged unscathed. Their advantage is marginal, just a few armored sides! And don’t forget, we have dozens of nations in the Tarxan Coalition. Musten's forces are likely just biding their time."

Though his words dripped with arrogance, the Commodore couldn't shake his irritation. He had no patience for such grim news. His anger simmered beneath the surface, and in an effort to distract himself from this troubling report, he demanded another.

"Is there anything else to report?" he growled, clearly hoping for something good.

Another subordinate, who was visibly trembling with fear, stood up and dreaded the news he had to deliver.

"Sir," he began, voice quivering, "We’ve lost contact with several fleets that were on their way here, one of which was carrying thousands of troops and a few dozen first-rate ships of the line. The last known sighting was before they entered a storm, as reported by the other fleets that managed to arrive. The issue is... the storm was within the bounds of the Great Tragedy of the High Tarxans, the area where a gigantic storm, said to be inhabited by demons and sea monsters, appears."

The Commodore's face darkened further, but he fought to keep his emotions in check. Despite the growing frustration gnawing at him, he maintained his composure.

"I don’t believe in fantasy stories, but we can't take unnecessary risks. Send a dozen ironclad ships of the line into that storm to search for the missing fleet. With thousands of soldiers and a complement of warships, they should be able to handle any sea monsters or demons. It’s likely their navigation devices were damaged in the storm as they must be drifting. A dozen warships should suffice to fend off any pirates or stray Orc bands they might encounter."

The Commodore was about to request further reports when a deafening explosion echoed from afar, cutting him off mid-sentence. Without hesitation, he rushed to the upper deck, and what he saw froze him in place.

On the horizon, a fleet of ironclads appeared, ships unlike anything he'd ever seen. These vessels were entirely constructed of metal, their massive chimneys belching black smoke into the sky. It took only a moment for the Commodore to realize the gravity of the situation.

"Prepare for battle! The Iron Kingdom is upon us!" he bellowed, his voice echoing across the deck.

Hundreds of ships of the Tarxan fleet moved into formation, but the movements were frantic and disorganized as ships jostled for position, and their close proximity caused them to collide with one another, creating a chaotic mess. The Iron Kingdom’s ironclads, with their superior maneuverability, effortlessly encircled the disarrayed coalition fleet and opened fire at the broken formations of the Coalition.

Within minutes, the battle turned into a slaughter as the first wave of the Tarxan Coalition's fleet was annihilated and sank beneath the waves in a matter of moments. Few ships attempted to break the encirclement, to no avail as they were quickly obliterated by the Iron Kingdom.

The coalition's defeat was sealed by a combination of poor communication and unpreparedness. Many of the warships were troop carriers and were positioned in the center of the fleet. As the Iron Kingdom's surprise attack unfolded, the coalition’s warships struggled to reach the front lines and clashed with one another in their desperation to organize. The confusion and tight formations only made them easier targets for the Iron Kingdom's well-coordinated ironclads.

In the end, the first major battle between the coalition and the Iron Kingdom ended with the Iron Kingdom emerging victorious.

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In The Ocean Near The Iron Kingdom, Entry To The Exclusive Economic Zone Of The Iron Kingdom, Somewhere In The Ocean, Tarxan Coalition Command Ship.

1st Year of God, Tuesday, 3rd Week, Month Of Moses.

With the bloodshed now settled into the depths of the sea, the surface was eerily calm as the stars in the clear night sky, illuminated by the world’s high moon. But beneath the still waters, the remains of countless soldiers and the wreckage of their ships lay strewn across the ocean floor, victims of the devastating ambush by the Iron Kingdom that decimated the first wave of the Tarxan Coalition.

Unbeknownst to them, the second wave of the coalition’s fleet was swiftly approaching. They remained oblivious to the destruction that had befallen their allies, both the first wave of their own fleet and the Principality of Musten. In this world, long-distance communication was a luxury of the more advanced first and second civilization zones, whose technological and magical developments far surpassed those of the third. In the third civilization zone, such advancements were still out of reach, leaving the coalition blind to the catastrophe that awaited them.

Meanwhile, the fall of the Principality of Musten had been kept a tightly guarded secret by the Iron Kingdom. Having quickly pacified the population, the Iron Kingdom exploited its newfound control over the region, subjecting the "superior" populace to unimaginable horrors. But what made it so easy to subjugate them, despite their status, was the nature of magic itself.

Magic required not only innate ability but rigorous training and study to be wielded effectively. Those who hadn’t attended military academies or magicians’ universities were merely Level 1 and only possessed a rudimentary understanding of basic spells.

This was why, even among the superior class, there existed a rigid caste system. The strongest magicians, often born into privilege, wielded unimaginable power, while the rest, though still superior to the manaless inferiors, remained vulnerable.

Such was the nature of society in this world. It wasn’t just magic that divided people, but centuries of entrenched class hierarchy. Attempts to challenge this status quo had always been crushed, as the powerful magicians of the upper castes saw no reason to support changing that system. Why would they? They enjoyed a life of privilege and dominance, free to hurl abuse at those beneath them without consequence, conditioned from birth to believe in their superiority.

For anyone to dare change such a deeply ingrained system, they would need to be prepared to take on the entire world.

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The waves splashed rhythmically against the hull of the towering man-of-war as a thick fog began to seep in, enveloping the ship in a veil of uncertainty. The vessel, armed with over one hundred and twenty cannons, evenly spread along both broadsides, carved a steady path through the water, its bow cutting through the waves with precision. The ship’s sails, infused with the blessing of the Goddess of the Wind, harnessed both the natural and magical winds, propelling the massive warship forward with increasing speed.

At the top of the deck, a male elf stood vigilant as his eyes scanned the misty surroundings. For hours now, he had felt an unshakable sense of unease, one that had only grown stronger as the fog thickened around them. The visibility had dwindled, leaving them to rely on the faint glow of lights and light magic to communicate with the other ships in their fleet. But even with communication, there is still a risk of losing their sense of direction. One wrong turn, and they could be hopelessly lost within the mist.

If they lost their way, their only choice would be to continue moving in their current direction, hoping they would find clear skies ahead. The alternative was disastrous, which is running out of rations with no knowledge of where they were.

The elf, the captain of the ship, stood with his hands clasped behind his back and observed the anxious faces of the soldiers. They, too, were unsettled by the fog while their nerves frayed as the uncertainty stretched on. But as their leader, the captain had to remain steadfast. His presence alone was the anchor that kept morale from sinking, and he knew all too well the importance of staying composed.

They need to stay alert to their surroundings, as even if this wasn't a storm where sea monsters were, this was in fact the entrance to the sea towards the Iron Kingdom, so there was a chance they would be ambushed. However, the elf believed that no one would be foolish enough to launch an attack in such conditions. The thick fog would blind both attackers and defenders, rendering any ambush just as dangerous for the aggressor. It seemed highly impractical that anyone would dare to strike here, at the entrance to the Iron Kingdom’s seas, especially with visibility so low. To the captain, it was a calculated risk that no one would take.

What he didn’t know, what none of them knew, was the grim fate that had already befallen the first wave of the Tarxan Coalition. Their wrecks now littered the seabed beneath the very waters they sailed. And the fog they believed to be natural was, in fact, the cunning handiwork of the Iron Kingdom, an invention crafted through their mastery of magic technology, designed to deceive and destroy.

At this very moment, dozens of Iron Kingdom's full fledged ironclads silently entered the fog, each equipped with a method to know who their allies were and who their enemies were.

At the top of each ironclad, dim yet visible lights flickered and glowed in different colors. Soon enough, every ironclad bore these unique, colored lights, invisible from afar but bright enough for nearby ships to identify. The fog shrouded the battlefield in mystery, but the Iron Kingdom had perfected its tactics for such conditions.

With these events transpiring, a question arises naturally to someone’s mind, and how could they be able to differentiate the light of their allies to their enemies?

In traditional magic, the natural color of light produced by a magician is white, and the higher the temperature of the light, the color naturally changes much like fire. But the Iron Kingdom’s ironclads were different as each ship's light carried a unique color.

It was customized to the ship or its commander’s preference. These lights were designed to be dim, only visible when up close, giving them a distinct advantage in the fog. By contrast, the light of the Tarxan Coalition ships was immensely bright, cutting through the mist but also revealing their positions to anyone, foe or friend, from a great distance. That means, the Iron Kingdom's Ironclad were at an immensely tremendous advantage over the other.

This advantage wasn’t just in their colored lights. It was in the ingenuity of the Iron Kingdom. Their technology had allowed them to create magic-powered bulbs, housed in colored glass, and casted different shades of light that could last for days with the proper magic fuel. These lights, though subtle, gave them a crucial edge in stealth and coordination.

Back aboard the Tarxan Coalition’s ships, the Elven captain was l nervously moving through back and forth across the deck. His growing unease reflected the increasing tension in the air. The dense fog, the disorienting atmosphere, it all weighed heavily on him, as if danger lurked just beyond sight. His movements mirrored the anxious energy of his crew as they nervously paced in an attempt to calm their fraying nerves.

Then, at the peripheral vision of his eyes, the captain noticed something, a red glow growing brighter in the distance. He was utterly confused as to what it is, but he would never know what it really was as in an instant, a blinding flash lit up the fog, followed by an ear-splitting roar.

The Elven captain barely had time to react as the deck beneath him exploded and a shard of metal pierced his head instantly, ending his life before he even realized the attack had come.

The next moment, dozens of flashes illuminated the fog as ironclads from the Iron Kingdom unleashed their devastating broadside volleys. The red lights, now joined by others of a variety of lights, signaled the coordinated assault.

Cannon fire thundered through the mist and tore through the Coalition ships. The Tarxan forces, still unaware of the true nature of their enemy’s attack, scrambled in confusion and fired blindly in every direction, but their bright lights exposed them to further devastation.

Tragically, in their frantic desperation, many of the coalition's shots struck their own allies. Their fleet had clustered too closely together in the fog, and without clear communication or coordination, they were effectively destroying themselves.

Within an hour, the once-proud fleet was reduced to wreckage. The final man-of-war sank beneath the waves, and the last of the second wave of the Tarxan Coalition lost to the sea.

Once again, the Iron Kingdom had claimed victory, this time, without even revealing their full strength. They had transformed the fog into a deadly battlefield, where their ingenuity and mastery of magical technology had turned confusion into a weapon.

Another victory for the Iron Kingdom, and the waters became a graveyard for their enemies.