The AH-12 Thunderhawk Attack Helicopter leveled out and the six rocket pods under its wing burst into smoke and flames as a salvo of rockets screamed out of the launchers and flew toward their targets. Another hundred meters away, a second gunship volley fired its own rockets, sending the missiles streaking toward the retreating Tarxan Coalition fleet.

Moments later, the sailing ships' defensive works erupted in clouds of smoke as the 70mm rockets rained down on them. Explosions rippled across the face of the earthworks, reducing fortified structures to rubble and obliterating magic cannons.

"Thunderhawk 1-1 to 1-2," the pilot called into his comms and glanced to his left at the second gunship hovering in formation. "The assault is a go."

"Roger, 1-1," came the curt reply.

With a push of the stick, the Thunderhawk dashed forward with its compound rotors propelling it into the fray. Beside the pilot, the co-pilot and gunner zeroed in on high-value targets identified by Intel. The nose-mounted 20mm autocannon spat out bolts of deadly ordinance of high-explosive and armor-piercing rounds that shredded exposed soldiers, demolished weapons, and buried defenders under collapsing structures.

Magic cannons exploded in fiery bursts, and their fragments wreaked havoc on anyone nearby with weaker magical defenses.

On the flagship Leviathan, however, the surviving cannons swiveled upward and fired magical projectiles skyward in a desperate attempt to shoot down the enemy aircraft.

The Leviathan's adamantite hull groaned as side panels opened, releasing two dragon riders into the air. The massive beasts flapped their leathery wings, accompanied by two elves clad in sleek combat armor who took to the skies, ready to engage.

The Thunderhawks charged over the flagship while their autocannons were spewing destruction across its decks. Magical barriers absorbed most of the bullets as their shimmering surfaces flared with each impact. Realizing their weapons were ineffective against the shield, the helicopters broke away, weaving through a storm of ballista bolts and magical projectiles.

"Contact!" the pilot of 1-1 yelled out as four red dots appeared on his HUD. "Enemy bogeys!"

He quickly pushed the engines to full throttle, and the Thunderhawk charged forward with surprising agility. As the enemy air forces closed in, the pilot deftly reduced speed and twisted the gunship, aligning the nose-mounted weapons with the approaching threats.

"Engaging," the co-pilot muttered as his attention was on an armored elf that flitted into his sights.

The elf tried to follow the gunship and hurled spells at the Thunderhawk, but the helicopter’s orichalcum-reinforced armor absorbed the impacts, negating their effects.

The pilot adjusted his aim and squeezed the trigger, sending a barrage of 20mm tracers screaming toward the elf at 800 rounds per minute. The nimble adversary jinked unpredictably, narrowly dodging the rounds. A stray burst, however, struck a dragon mid-flight as the beast's wings were shattered in an explosion of smoke and blood as it spiraled into the ocean with its rider’s screams lost in the chaos.

"Good kill!" 1-2's pilot cheered over the comms.

Enraged by the loss, the remaining enemy forces barreled straight toward the Thunderhawks in a furious charge. The helicopters responded with uncanny maneuverability, banking sharply while keeping their autocannons locked on the attackers. Another dragon and its rider fell under the barrage, leaving only a single desperate beast.

The dragon unleashed a fiery breath, and the flames licked futilely at the empty air as the Thunderhawks danced out of reach. A final salvo of 20mm rounds punched through the creature's armored hide, sending it falling in a trail of fire and ash.

"Nice work, 1-2," the lead pilot called. "Target that escort battle carrier next!"

The two helicopters regrouped as their sights set on a smaller escort ship flanking the Leviathan. Their agility allowed them to evade the incoming anti-air fire and magical attacks and closed the distance rapidly. Though capable of striking from over a kilometer away, they approached deliberately to mislead the enemy.

Both gunships fired off their remaining rockets from their rocket pods that unleashed their fury, battering the escort's magical barrier as explosions rippled across the shield and forced it to flare with blinding intensity. The Thunderhawks executed a fast flyby before veering off and retreated beyond the fleet's defensive range.

"X-Ray, this is Thunderhawk 1-1," the lead pilot reported. "We are bingo on guns and the mission is completed. RTB, over."

[Roger, Thunderhawk 1-1. Good work. Out.]

————————————————————————

"One minute!" The announcement came over the worn headsets of the gathered soldiers with their breath fogging the glass of their face masks in the cold. Each soldier carried a full loadout of combat gear from a parachute, a compact oxygen tank feeding into their masks, and an arsenal of tools for the mission ahead.

Every soldier wore the MK-I Mithril armor with its sleek design providing unmatched protection and mobility. Each was also equipped with a Spatial Ring, a pocket dimension for carrying magic weapons and essential equipment.

The interior of the cargo plane glowed green from overhead lights, casting a faint sheen on the soldiers' polished armor. At the rear, the massive cargo hatch yawned open, revealing a void of the dark clouds. A frigid blast of wind surged in, sending shivers down the spine of the cargo master, who sniffled as snot dripped from his nose.

"Thirty seconds!" He shouted sharply gainst the drone of the engines. "Get ready to jump to your deaths!"

At the forefront of the platoon stood a man in a large armored suit similar to one that the female general from the 19th Black Armored Division wore.

The Hercules exo-suit.

Compare to the one owned by the second-in-command from the far-right private militia group, this upgraded version of the standard exosuit featured reinforced adamantite steel plating enchanted to rival mithril in weightlessness and other features copied from the MK-I armor, giving its wearer immense strength without sacrificing agility.

Corporal Viesal, the man who wore the armor, stood at the edge of the hatch with his visor scanning the sea below, where several tiny pricks of light from the sea marked their destination with the Liberation Navy’s battle lines faintly visible from their height in the dark expanse. He turned to his squad, who were lined up and awaiting orders, feeling their nerves hidden beneath their disciplined stillness.

"Alright, you know the mission," Viesal said. "We are divded into seven teams from Gamma-1 through Gamma-7. Neutralize all hostiles and secure the artifact. No mistakes."

“““Sir, yes, sir!”””

"Five, four, three, two, one!"

The countdown ended, and the red jump lights shifted to green. Viesal waved his arm forward, and the first soldier hesitated at the hatch for a heartbeat before the one behind shoved him out into the abyss.

"JUMP! JUMP! JUMP!"

One by one, the teams followed in rapid succession with Gamma-1 leading the jump, followed by Gamma-2, then Gamma-3, all the way to Gamma-7.

Now, 49 bodies were falling through the dark clouds, reaching terminal velocity as they pierced the cold clouds.

Weak glimmers of light sticks mounted on their helmets provided the only way to spot teammates in the void. The soldiers angled their bodies toward flickering black shapes below which was the Liberation Navy, trading fire with enemy ships.

Viesal spread his arms and legs to stabilize his descent. His helmet’s visor filtered the chaos around him, but even with enhanced optics, the glow of his team's light sticks was faint in the swirling darkness. His eyes flicked to his altimeter to see the green digits ticking down rapidly.

He glanced back toward the sea, where bursts of explosions lit the waves in brief fiery flashes. In the middle of the chaos, their target appeared, which was a massive ironclad, momentarily illuminated like a golden egg in the darkness. It stood larger and larger with every passing second, the iron beast dwarfing the surrounding ships.

As his altimeter emitted a shrill beep, Viesal yanked his parachute cord. A powerful jolt coursed through his body as three parachutes deployed simultaneously, slowing his rapid descent.

The sheer weight of his exosuit required this redundancy, without it, he'd hit the ocean like a meteor.

As he observed the Liberation Navy’s rounds harmlessly deflected by the ironclad’s magic barrier, Viesal noticed something peculiar as he passed through effortlessly. The seemingly impenetrable shield bent and rippled but allowed him through without resistance.

"Hm, it only blocks high-velocity impacts," Viesal muttered as he switched his visor to night vision mode and quickly spotted the infrared marker painted onto the target by a spotter plane.

The size of the ironclad grew larger, filling his entire field of view until he bent his knees and landed in a running crouch on the deck without incident. The reinforced adamantite soles of his exosuit absorbed the impact as he tossed an infrared beacon onto the deck. Its steady pulse marked the landing zone for the rest of Gamma-1 still falling down.

“Gamma-1, sound off!” Viesal barked into his comms sharply over the wind and distant cannon fire.

[One of our teammates has taken a bad landing,] a soldier reported. [He landed on some pipes and sprained his ankle!]

"Roger. Everyone form up at my position!"

Following the instructions given by his squadmate and their memorization of the photos of the top section of the Tarxan Coalition’s Flagship, they made their way towards Gamma-1. In the background, a thump of explosions continued on as more and more Gamma teams landed on the deck of the unsuspecting Flagship. Yet not all the team managed to land safely on the target. A few soldiers missed the flagship totally and splashed into the sea or botched their landings, leaving seven wounded and reducing their effective strength to 42.

Once assembled, the assault teams advanced toward the identified entry hatches. Medics hurriedly administered painkillers and healing potions to the injured before helping them hobbed along. Viesal led Gamma-1 to a suspected observation hatch with its heavy steel frame locked tight.

“Breach it!” Viesal ordered.

A soldier retrieved a breaching charge from his Spatial Ring, slapping it onto the hatch before tearing the friction tab off the breaching charge and igniting the fuse with a sharp pull.

“Fire in the hole!” he yelled and he rolled into cover with the rest. A thunderous crack shook the deck as the charge detonated, leaving the hatch twisted and smoking.

“Move!”

The team bounced out from cover and rushed towards the destroyed hatch. One of the soldiers peeked into the newly created opening and spotted a dimly lit tunnel with a ladder leading downward. Viesal gave him a nod, and the scout slid down the ladder quickly, using the sides of his boots to grip against the sides of the ladder as he slid down.

When the soldier landed at the bottom of the ladder, he quickly drew his silenced pistol out and checked both sides of the corridor ensuring the way was clear.

"Area clear!"

The rest followed, descending one by one as Viesal radioed the assault teams. "Gamma-1 has secured a beachhead. All stations, proceed."

[Roger that,] came the replies.

The ladder led to a narrow corridor, the air thick with the acrid tang of oil and magic-infused steam. The team fanned out with their weapons raised as Viesal ordered, “Hold position. Watch your sectors as we wait for the others to join us!”

Before long, two armored crewmen rounded a corner with their steel plating gleaming faintly. For a moment, both sides froze, staring in suprise at each other before chaos erupted with Gamma-1’s rifles barked and shredded the crew with concentrated bursts.

“Damn it,” a soldier hissed as he yanked a bolt from his rifle’s chamber. “If they don't know anything is wrong... Now they do!”

"Hold the breach!" Viesal commanded. "The rest of the team are coming!"

"Drag the bodies out of sight!" One soldier gave the other a nudge. "Come on!"

The two Gamma-1 members ran forward and checked their corners before dragging the bodies out of sight. But just as they hid the corpses, a low hum filled the corridor and grew louder.

Not before long, Viesal’s visor detected faint traces of mana signatures approaching rapidly.

He held up a fist to halt the team and whispered sharply. “Magic users inbound. Get ready.”

Moments later, a squad of robed elves stormed into view with their hands glowing with arcane energy. One unleashed a blinding lightning bolt that ricocheted down the corridor and struck a soldier squarely, but the MK-I Mithril armor absorbed the hit as the enchantments sparked briefly before dissipating the energy.

“Light ’em up!” Viesal roared.

Gamma-1’s rifles roared in response, spitting enchanted mithril-tipped rounds that tore through the mages' shields. One elf hurled a fireball, but a soldier intercepted it with a well-aimed shot, and the explosion fizzled mid-air. Another mage conjured a spear of ice, but it shattered harmlessly against the armor of its target.

The soldiers pressed forward with their enchanted bullets ripping through the enemy’s hastily raised barriers. A final mage tried to cast a wide-area spell, but Viesal’s giant pistol barked once, and the projectile punched through the elf’s skull without an effort.

“Area clear!” a soldier called.

The team moved quickly, reloading and checking their corners. Soon, more assault teams arrived, funneling down the corridors. Viesal met with the leaders of Gamma-4 and Gamma-5, who confirmed their groups had entered through separate breaches.

“Comms are down here,” one of them noted grimly.

“Doesn’t matter,” Viesal replied. “Split up. Each team clears a sector. We need to neutralize hostiles and secure that artifact before they regroup.”

With synchronized nods, the teams fanned out with their weapons raised and be ready to face whatever their enemies within this ship threw their way.

————————————————————————

Sephral was frowning at the scenery outside the crystal windows. The enemy’s weapons were far beyond anything in the Tarxan Coalition’s arsenal. Their relentless bombardment rained destruction upon the fleet, and his men could do little but endure it and suffer.

He had already ordered an evacuation from this area and they were about to escape when this enemy started their bombing of them. The sense of unease in his heart grew stronger as he stared out into the island of Arlithrien, making him wonder if he should sacrifice them and leave now.

Over 10,000 Tarxan soldiers, including a dozen Archmages and the renowned Lord Caelith, were entrenched at the military outpost. Was their sacrifice necessary for his survival?

Another flash lit the night sky, followed by a distant resonant thump that rattled the ironclad as the shockwave hummed through the ship.

"Damn it!" Sephral spat and slammed his fist against the cold crystal pane. The helplessness clawed at him, and he felt the weight of command suffocating his resolve. His heart warred with his duty. Every second spent hesitating was a second closer to annihilation.

Finally, he tore himself away from the window and spoke bitterly. “It’s time to leave. Signal the retreat.”

————————————————————————

"Move!" Viesal barked, gesturing sharply as he dropped to a kneeling stance, his weapon trained on the dimly lit corridor. His men sprinted past him toward the next entryway as their boots thudded against the metal floor.

The relative quiet shattered as a troop of Tarxan Coalition soldiers marched into view with their polished armor gleamed faintly in the flickering light.

"Oh fuck! Contact!"

The air erupted with the staccato of gunfire and red tracer rounds streaked through the darkened passageways, illuminating the chaos in brief flashes. Bodies danced and dropped like puppets with their strings cut off as bullets tore through them.

Viesal emptied his magazine until a sharp click signaling the need to reload.

More cries echoed through the labyrinthine decks, along with the clatter of magical gear growing louder. The enemy had been drawn like moths to a flame. Coalition reinforcements flooded into the narrow passage, raising both of their magical and physical shields high as the elven soldiers advanced over the bodies of their fallen comrades, relentlessly despite the hail of bullets.

“Fuck! More knife-ears coming this way!” one of Viesal’s men yelled in panic. The soldier lay prone, snapping off his AF-2 “Magespitter” rifle with precise shots that punched through exposed gaps in the enemy's armor. “How many of these bastards are there?”

“Break out the heavy weapons!” Viesal ordered calmly as he switched to semi-automatic fire and shot down a pair of Coalition soldiers who had charged through the thinning defensive line.

They seemed unfearful of death as they continued leaping over the dead that piled up along the decks, and with the dim lighting, made the whole scene appear to be one out of hell.

Two soldiers unslung heavy packs from their backs and assembled a pair of light machine guns. They quickly slapped a box magazine into the LMGs and laid down suppressing fire down both sides of the corridor and turned any unprotected flesh into shredded flesh. Even the strongest magical shields began to falter under the barrage.

"Fall back!" Viesal ordered after seeing the enemy forces were gaining ground. "Wire the place to blow!"

One of the Gamma-4 soldiers crouched as he unpacked explosives from his Spatial Ring. He slapped the charges onto the walls and deck plating.

“Charges set!”

“Back!” Viesal ordered, covering their retreat. His men moved in pairs and bounded backward while maintaining suppressive fire, but the Coalition forces moved forward, emboldened by the apparent retreat.

Once the team had reached a safe distance, Viesal gave the command.

“Blow it up!”

One soldier twisted the ignition plug, and the explosion that followed was deafening. The deck shuddered violently as the force of the blast sent a shockwave through the narrow corridors. The sound of metal twisting and buckling was punctuated by screams of the wounded. Flames and smoke surged through the passage, consuming everything in its wake.

But the reprieve was short-lived. From the smoldering wreckage emerged another squad of elite elven warriors, showing their ornate armor glowing with arcane sigils. One raised his hand and conjured a swirling orb of flame that shot forward like a meteor. It struck a soldier squarely, sending him flying against the bulkhead with a sickening crunch.

“Shit! Incoming!” another yelled as a second mage unleashed a jagged bolt of lightning, arcing through the narrow corridor and narrowly missing Viesal.

The squad scrambled for cover as the mages pressed their attack. Viesal grimaced as the arcane assaults overwhelmed their position. A soldier screamed as a shard of ice pierced his thigh, pinning him to the ground.

“We’re pinned!” one of the Gamma-1 soldiers shouted, firing blindly from behind a metal crate.

Viesal gritted his teeth and pulled a high-explosive grenade from his belt. “Cover me!” he barked. He yanked the pin and threw it down the corridor.

The grenade detonated with a brilliant flash, its shockwave disorienting the mages and scattering debris. Seizing the opportunity, Viesal led a counterattack and his men opened fire with their “Magespitters,” the armor-piercing mithril-tipped rounds finding their marks even against the magical defenses.

One by one, the mages fell and their spells fizzled out as bullets punched through their glowing shields. The final mage, wounded and cornered, began chanting a desperate incantation. Viesal didn’t give him the chance as he leveled his rifle and fired a three-round burst, silencing the threat.

The corridor fell quiet, save for the groans of the injured and the hiss of smoke. Viesal’s gaze swept over his battered squad. Several men were nursing burns or cuts, while their armor were scorched but intact.

“Patch yourselves up,” he ordered roughly. “We’re not done this shit yet.”

————————————————————————

“What was that?” Sephral’s voice cut through the tense silence as he and his commanders exchanged uneasy glances, each feeling the subtle tremor beneath their feet.

An aide rushed into the chamber with a pale face and reported to Sephral. “Fleet Commander, we… we’ve been boarded!”

“The Leviathan? Boarded?” Sephral repeated as his disbelief mirrored in the wide eyes of his commanders. “How is that even possible?”

The Leviathan, the pride of the Tarxan Coalition’s fleet, was surrounded by a Transcendent Tier 2 magic barrier, a defense so impenetrable it was said no force in the Third Civilization Zond could breach it. Yet the impossible had happened.

“How did they infiltrate the flagship?” one commander thundered and slammed his fist onto the table. “What are the escorts doing? Are they all asleep at their posts?”

Sephral’s expression darkened as he felt his frustration boiling over. With a sharp crack, he slammed his fist onto the table, silencing the room. “Find them,” he growled lowly and dangerously. “And kill them. Now!”

The room erupted into a flurry of activity. Orders were barked, magical communicators hummed to life, and soldiers scrambled to relay instructions. Sephral stood rigid with sharp eyes narrowing as he stared at the glowing map of the Leviathan projected above the command table.

One of the commanders leaned toward him. “Fleet Commander, if they’ve breached the Leviathan, they may have sabotaged the barrier. It’s possible we’re vulnerable to further attacks.”

“Then strengthen the inner defenses,” Sephral snapped. “Seal off critical sectors, and deploy the elite guard!”

Another faint tremor rattled the floor, accompanied by the distant echo of gunfire and muffled explosions. The sound sent a chill through the room and Sephral’s fingers tightened into a fist as his jaw clenched.

“Commander,” an aide called out again with a trembling voice. “Reports are coming in. The intruders are heavily armed and using some form of advanced magic-infused muskets similar to the Iron Kingdom. Our forces are sustaining heavy losses.”

Sephral’s gaze hardened. “Then send in the Archmages or possible the Twin Guardians. If these interlopers think their technology gives them an edge, they’ll learn the price of underestimating our magic.”

He turned to his commanders, his voice rising with authority. “This is the Leviathan. We do not falter, and we do not fail. Bring me their heads.”

The commanders saluted and moved to carry out his orders. As the sounds of chaos grew louder, Sephral stood tall as his mind already calculated his next move. For all their audacity, the intruders had sealed their fate the moment they set foot on his ship.

————————————————————————

The decks heaved violently as another thunderous roar echoed down the passageway. Cries and yells followed behind the blast while more footsteps stormed down the passageway and figures in red erupted out from the swirling smoke with their eyes glowing faintly with magical energy.

Puffs and muffled pops of suppressed assault rifles answered the charge of the elves with the bullets tearing through the smoke and striking their marks. Brass casings clinked and spun across the ironclad's deck as Viesal's Gamma-1 advanced methodically with their boots pounding against the metal floor as they attempted to locate and disable the ship's critical systems before it escaped.

The team emerged onto the upper levels of a cavernous hangar with its walls lined with dormant machinery and dim flickering lights. The air was thick with the metallic stench of blood and ozone. Scattered across the deck were the lifeless forms of lesser dragons and dozens of elven soldiers with their bodies crumpled in the aftermath of Gamma-1's brutal rampage.

"Goddamn, this place!" a soldier cursed as he retrieved fresh cartridges from his Spatial Ring and reloading his emptied magazines with practiced ease. "This place is a bloody maze!"

"Quit complaining and refill your ammo faster!" barked Viesal, standing sentry near a stack of crates. His sharp gaze swept the room, ever vigilant. "We don’t have the luxury of time. Get ready to move, the bastards won’t hand us any breaks!"

As if summoned by his words, a squad of elven soldiers burst into the hangar from the opposite side. Viesal hissed under his breath and signaled for his team to take cover. Ducking behind the crates, they watched as the elven soldiers conducted a quick check of the dead.

Satisfied, the enemy pressed on toward another hatch, oblivious to Gamma-1's presence.

The momentary reprieve was short-lived as the ironclad shuddered beneath their feet, a deep, resonating wail echoing through the decks. The sound was otherworldly, a voice speaking in a strange and guttural tongue.

"That’s High Elvish!" one soldier whispered with a pale face. "They're summoning reinforcements!"

Viesal cursed under his breath, recognizing fragments of the incantation from the crash language course back at the Empire.

"They're calling in heavy magic support. We need to move, now! This ship’s about to take off at full thrust!"

No sooner had the words left his mouth than the air grew heavy with an oppressive magical presence. A blazing portal tore open in the center of the hangar, and three towering elven mages emerged. Their robes shimmered with arcane glyphs, and their hands crackled with raw elemental power. Behind them, spectral constructs materialized, which appeared to be gargantuan beasts of fire, ice, and shadow.

"Open fire!" Viesal roared.

The team unleashed a hail of gunfire, but the magical wards surrounding the mages absorbed the bullets with ease. One mage raised a hand, and a torrent of fire erupted toward the soldiers' cover. The crates exploded into splinters, forcing Gamma-1 to scatter.

"Activate the runic shields!" Viesal commanded.

A soldier reacted and slammed a rune-stone into his chest plate. A shimmering barrier enveloped him just as a bolt of ice hurtled toward him, shattering harmlessly against the ward.

The team retaliated by switching to different magazines. Their specialized magic guns flared to life and discharged rounds infused with anti-magic properties. The first mage faltered as his shield cracked under the barrage. One well-aimed shot pierced his chest, and he collapsed with a guttural cry.

The remaining mages retaliated furiously. Lightning arced across the hangar, narrowly missing a soldier who dove for cover. The spectral beasts, meanwhile lunged and raked their claws against the soldiers' armor and shields. Viesal gritted his teeth and fired relentlessly until a second mage fell, reducing his body into cheese.

The final mage unleashed a spell of devastating power, summoning a storm of razor-sharp wind that tore through the hangar. But Gamma-1 held firm as their mithril runic armor absorbed the magic attack.

Closing ranks, the team concentrated their firepower and their magic guns blazed with relentless energy. The last mage staggered, then collapsed as the Magic Beasts he summoned dissolved into clouds of shimmering light.

The hangar fell silent save for the crackling remnants of magic and the heavy breathing of Gamma-1. Viesal holstered his weapon and glanced at the trembling portal, now beginning to fade with nothing but a single magic artifact that was used for it.

"Reload and regroup, people," he ordered. "This was just the welcoming party. Let’s find that damn engine room and finish the job.”

"Yes, captain. But which way now?" one of Gamma-1's operatives asked as he scanned the dimly lit crossway.

Now they stumbled into the corridors that stretched in every direction, identical in their claustrophobic monotony. Somewhere deep within the ironclad, the muffled echoes of fighting hinted at chaos. "The ship’s moving, no time to waste!"

Viesal glanced at the mana readouts on his visor and his focus narrowed on a pulsing spike. "This way!" He pointed sharply to the left. "The rising level of mana seemed to be coming from there!"

The team advanced cautiously with their boots echoing softly against the metal floor towards the direction where the mana levels began to rise. Shadows danced along the walls as they moved with the thick tension.

Along the way, they encountered scattered resistance with patrols and crew who charged recklessly without any regard of their lives. Gamma-1's efficiency was unmatched as every hostile fell quickly, their bodies left in crumpled heaps as the team pressed forward.

After several twists and turns, the air grew dense with magic the deeper they delved and the appearance of the passageway became more ominous as their smooth surfaces gave way to intricate carvings glowing faintly with arcane energy.

Viesal motioned for the group to halt as one of his squadmates rounded a corner and nearly collided with another armed figure. Weapons snapped up instantly, but recognition flashed in their eyes before any shots were fired.

"Gamma-1 here!" the soldier called out, lowering his rifle.

"I'm with Gamma-6," the other operative replied and sighed in relief. Behind him, another team materialized from the shadows with their gear as worn and bloodied as Gamma-1's.

Viesal stepped forward to shook hands with the Gamma-6 team leader. "Good to see you. Comms are down, figured we weren’t the only ones lost in this maze."

"Same here," Gamma-6’s leader said. "We’re tracking the mana surge, too. Looks like we're headed to the same target."

"Then we move as one," Viesal said decisively. "We need to stop this ship from leaving this place!"

The two teams started working together and the combined force advanced deeper into the ironclad with their numbers now a formidable strike group.

Resistance intensified with every step. Elven soldiers poured into the corridors with their magic-enhanced armor gleaming under the flickering lights. The air filled with the deafening roar of gunfire and the crackling hum of magical shields collapsing under relentless assault. Bodies dropped, blood pooling around the thick pipes that snaked along the walls.

Finally, the passage opened into a vast chamber dominated by a massive vault-like door. Its surface was etched with glowing runes and pulsated in sync with the rising mana levels. The circular doors stood twice the height of the tallest operative, exuding an almost sentient menace.

One Gamma-1 soldier nudged a nearby body with his boot and his gaze fixed on the enormous door. "So... this is it? Are we at the right place?"

Another squadmate rapped his knuckles against the door’s cold surface, hearig the hollow clunk echoing ominously from his knocking. "Feels thick, whatever’s behind it is the source of that mana spike."

Viesal glanced around and took in the room’s layout his His gaze landed on a smaller side hatch bolted shut.

"Options?"

"Side hatch," a soldier said as he crouched to inspect it. "Sealed from the inside. Breachable."

"Then breach it," Viesal ordered.

One of the squad members pulled a breaching charge from his pack and slapped it against the hatch’s hinges. The team pulled back and took cover behind the scattered remnants of the battle.

"Fire in the hole!" the operative shouted.

The charge ignited, a deafening blast ripping through the confined space and the hatch vaporized into a flash of fire and smoke as the force rattled the surrounding walls.

"Move in!" Viesal barked and raised his rifle. As the smoke cleared, the team prepared to storm the chamber beyond, bracing for whatever powerful magic awaited them.

————————————————————————

Kosom was a Level 2 mage in the Flagship Leviathan. He was inside the main magic core station which stored the Magic Cores and the Dragonite crystal that powered the magic shield safeguarding the flagship when the alarm went off, and his superior gathered everyone and informed them that the ship had been boarded.

Weapons were issued out and the main core station was locked down. Not long later, another set of new orders came from the telling trumpet, and the superior ordered all the magic cores to be lit, and make steam as the ship was leaving.

Kosom and the other mages took their positions, channeling their mana into the cores and the central Dragonite crystal. The smaller gem glowed faintly and absorbed the mana with a fiery radiance. As they worked, the supervisor moved among them, chanting ancient blessings to stabilize the volatile energy. Kosom joined in as his voice melded with the rhythmic hum of the cores.

Then it happened.

The side hatch exploded with a blinding flash as the thick Orichalcum metal door ripped free from its hinges and crashing onto the deck with a thunderous clang. The blast silenced the chanting, and every head turned toward the smoke-filled breach in confusion. For a moment, there was only stunned silence as the young mages froze in place.

From the haze, several black canisters was thrown into the room and rolled to a stop at Kosom’s feet. His eyes widened as he recognized the danger too late.

Crack!

The flashbangs detonated, unleashing a deafening roar and an agonizing burst of white light. Kosom screamed, clutching his eyes as blinding pain seared through him. Around him, his colleagues cried out in unison as their voices drowned in the chaos.

"AHHHHHHHH!!"

"GO! GO! GO!"

Through the breach stormed squads from Gamma-1 and Gamma-6 as their armored forms cut through the smoke like specters of death. They moved with precision, splitting left and right to secure the room. Weapons swept over the stunned mages, and any resistance was met with a single surgical shot.

"Clear left!"

"Clear right!"

"All clea—!"

A shout cut through the room as the core station's supervisor, an elven mage, emerged from his hiding place. His robes fluttered as he raised his hand and an arcane energy crackling at his fingertips.

“[Fireball]!”

A swirling sphere of flame launched toward the soldiers. Its heat distorted the air, but before it could reach its target, Viesal stepped forward. His arm rose, and his armor absorbed the brunt of the fiery explosion.

Boom!

The room shook violently, but as the smoke cleared, Viesal stood unscathed. His armor gleamed, unmarred by the blast. Raising his weapon with deadly calm, he aimed at the elf.

Bang!

The 25mm mithril-tipped round punched through the mage's magical defenses with ease and struck his abdomen. A split second later, the grenade embedded within the round detonated, and the elf's body erupted in a visceral explosion, painting the surroundings with blood and gore.

“All clear,” Viesal muttered as he lowered his smoking weapon and scanned the chamber with a sharp gaze.

The room was dominated by eight massive spherical furnaces, their interiors glowing with white-hot light. Mana stones piled high on carts waited to be fed into the open grates. Thick serpentine pipes radiated from the boilers, snaking in every direction like veins carrying lifeblood through the colossal flagship.

"Secure the hatch!" Viesal yelled at Gamma-6. "Gamma-1, sweep the whole place! Clear everything and make sure there are no suprises!"

Gamma-6 operatives quickly took defensive positions and guarded around the breached hatch with their weapons trained on the smoke-filled entrance. Meanwhile, Gamma-1 dispersed throughout the cavernous chamber, methodically checking bodies and scanning the surroundings. The sharp pops of gunfire echoed from deeper down the deck as survivors from the enemy crew were flushed out and neutralized.

Viesal walked up a raised platform in the center of the room, nestled between the massive, glowing boilers. The platform housed an intricate control panel, its surface bristling with rows of dials, gauges, and levers. He frowned at the unfamiliar controls, moving his eyes across the chaotic array as he tried to decipher their purpose.

One of his squadmates joined him as his boots clanged against the metal steps. "All clear," the soldier reported. "Found two additional hatches leading in and out of this place. We've stationed guards at both."

"Good," Viesal replied while his eyes still focused on the control panel. "Any idea how to shut this thing down?"

"Blow it up?" the squadmate suggested with a shrug.

Viesal raised an eyebrow his suggestion and shook his head. "Not unless you want to turn this whole place into a fireball and take us with it. We need a controlled shutdown, not a disaster."

"Fair point," the soldier admitted with an awkward grin as he scratched the back of his neck. His eyes wandered to the glowing mana cores and the smaller Dragonite crystal at the center of the setup. "What if we pull the crystals out?"

Viesal considered the idea and nodded slowly. "That could work. Do it."

And they did as the team carefully extracting the magic cores from their slots. However, when they reached the Dragonite crystal, it refused to budge as its base seemingly fused to the mechanism. Still, the removal of the surrounding cores was enough as the rising mana levels began to stabilize and the oppressive hum of the engines faded, followed by the trembling vibrations beneath their feet ceased.

"It's working," Viesal said with a grin as he steadied himself. "The ship’s losing power."

"Contact!" Gamma-6’s team leader suddenly shouted from below. Viesal spun around just as figures emerged through the breached hatch. "The knife-ears are here!"

"Engaging!" Gamma-6 operatives, already in position behind overturned carts and machinery, opened fire at the enemy, who were shielded by magical barriers and pressed forward in tight formation. Bullets peppered the lead soldier’s barrier, causing it to flicker madly under the sustained assault.

Ten seconds later, the barrier failed with a loud pop, and the lead elf fell back to the ground with a bullet tearing through his chest. Another soldier stepped forward to take his place, only to be met with the same relentless barrage. The narrow hatch limited their advance, and soon, bodies began to pile up, clogging the passageway. Under heavy fire, the enemy was forced to retreat to regroup and replan their attack.

"We need to hold this position!" Viesal commanded. "This has to be the main core room, or at least one of them. If they retake it, we’re finished."

He turned to his men and issued rapid orders. "You two, cover the rear hatch!" He pointed to the second pair. "You’re on the upper-level hatch, hold it at all costs!"

"The rest of you, reinforce Gamma-6 at the breach!" He gestured to the operatives already digging in. "We’ll hold the line here!"

"Yes, sir!" came the unified reply as the soldiers moved to fortify their positions and preparing for the next wave.

Viesal took his own position with his weapon at the ready.

————————————————————————

"What is happening out there?" Sephral demanded sharply as he pointed to the massive crystal windows of the bridge. Beyond the barrier, the sea seemed to drift lazily, too lazily. "Why have we slowed?"

"M-My Lord..." The Captain’s voice wavered, and sweat beaded on his brow as he delivered his report. "We've lost contact with the Magic Core station housing the Dragonite crystal. The mana levels sustaining the barrier have dropped significantly—"

"You suspect what?" Sephral’s tone cut through the air like a blade.

The Captain swallowed hard. "W-We suspect that the core station has been overrun... by boarders, My Lord."

"Overrun!?" Sephral's exploded with fury, twisting his face in a mix of outrage and disbelief. "What in the name of the gods are the guards doing? A bunch of useless fools!"

He slammed a gauntleted fist against the edge of the command console, the sharp clang reverberating through the tense silence of the bridge. "I want answers, and I want that station retaken now! Do not test my patience!”

————————————————————————

The Captain General of the Sovereign-class battleship stood on the open-air walkway just outside the bridge and observed on the distant silhouette of the Ironclad Leviathan under a pair of binoculars. Thirty minutes had passed since the Assault Team infiltrated the ship, and now the enemy flagship was beginning to make its move under its own power.

"Sir," a crewmate appeared at the hatch, his voice crisp as he spoke. "The enemy flagship is aligning directly with their predicted course."

"Move the fleet within main gun range," the Captain General commanded without lowering his binoculars. "No running lights, keep us invisible."

"Aye, Sir!" The Lieutenant snapped a salute before disappearing back through the hatch to relay the orders.

Moments later, the enemy Flagship seemed to hit a snag as its speed dropped unexpectedly. The Captain General allowed a slow satisfied smile to creep across his face as he whispered to himself.

"Those damn bastards did it."

"Sir!" The Lieutenant returned and shouted urgently. "The enemy ship—"

"I know," the Captain General interrupted sharply as he lowered his binoculars and turned to face the young officer with determination in his eyes. "Tell the assault troops to stand by for action. I want them ready to take over this piece of shit the moment we have the chance."

"Yes, Sir!"