Chapter 408: Roaring in the Sea Mist

The sound of the steam whistle, deep, commanding, and resonant, reverberated across the vast expanse of the sea. It was as if a hallowed cloud of steam had been expelled from the heart of the ship, causing the gargantuan chimney of the Sea Mist to shudder. This invisible force also rippled through every intricate pipeline that snaked within the steel beast, triggering a symphony of action. The steam whistle’s wail was reminiscent of a war horn rallying the troops for battle, and indeed, it elicited a similar response from the ship’s crew.

Machinery groaned and whirred as hoists were employed, loading propellant charges and weighty shells into the concealed ammunition storage beneath the imposing gun turrets. Steam pipes let out a relentless roar, channeling the revered vapor to essential mechanisms and parts of the ship that had been sanctified. All across the ship, sailors were in motion, swift shadows darting across the decks and through narrow corridors, each man finding his battle station.

As the steam whistle sounded again, a small chapel situated at the stern of the Sea Mist rang out with the clear peal of a bronze bell. This was a symbol of the blessing of the Storm Goddess, Gomona, casting her divine protection over the intimidating warship, one that many had superstitiously labeled as “cursed.”

The echo of this bell and similar sounds of steam whistles permeated the air from the other main warships of the Mist fleet. The sonorous tolling of the shipborne church bells mixed with the fog, creating an eerie resonance that seemed to pulse through the misty shroud. So powerful was this symphony of sounds that it seemed to disrupt reality, the thick fog above the sea parting ever so slightly in response.

Not too far away, the Frost Navy, conducting a vigilant patrol, sprang into action at the sight and sounds of the Mist fleet. Flags were hoisted, lights blinked in coded communication, and the cacophony of steam whistles and church bells bounced back and forth through the foggy curtain that blanketed the sea.

A profound shift seemed to occur at this moment. The decades-long rivalry and hostility between the two fleets seemed to dissolve momentarily, replaced by the unsettling anomaly that overshadowed them all. In the face of this peculiar and perilous fog blockade, the Frost Navy, manned by the living, and the Mist fleet, commanded by the undead, found themselves as unlikely allies.

Uncertainty lingered heavily in the air. No one knew when or how the enemy would strike, only that any unfamiliar ship that dared to venture into these waters was a potential threat. Even those deemed “friendly ships” were treated with suspicion if they failed to respond to any form of communication. Indeed, the sea had become the enemy.

The air was thick with tension as all awaited shifts in the fog, new intelligence from the Frost Navy, or any potential orders. Time seemed to crawl in this oppressive wait. Suddenly, amidst this tension, Tyrian, the commander of the Sea Mist, felt an odd sensation.

It was as if an unseen presence was observing him, a gaze that didn’t seem to emanate from any particular direction. It felt as though the watchful eyes of the past were settled upon him, calm yet unnerving.

Caught off guard, Tyrian instinctively lifted his gaze, scanning the bridge of the Sea Mist in search of the origin of this unsettling feeling.

First Mate Aiden engaged in earnest discussion with the boatswain, their voices murmuring above the ship’s din. Meanwhile, the radio operator was intensely engaged in a back-and-forth with the Frost Navy, conveying precise coordinates and operational details. The elderly priest, donned in a flowing black robe, had swiftly left the confines of the small chapel, and was now fervently praying next to the seat of the gunnery chief. His eyes were shut tight, his lips moving quickly over silent prayers. In the thick fog that masked the sea, his spiritual guidance served as the primary beacon for the warship, preparing to face an invisible enemy within the foggy labyrinth.

Under these circumstances, Tyrian found himself slipping into a memory trance from half a century ago. It was a time when Her Majesty the Queen had graced this very warship with her presence. The Sea Mist hadn’t acquired its aged majesty and was merely an older, weather-beaten vessel. He recalled how the Frost Queen had stood at this very spot near the porthole, her eyes filled with a longing gaze as they swept across the expansive sea.

From that position, she had ordered the departure of the Mist Fleet from Frost before the rebellion took place.

In the here and now, that specter of the past slowly turned her head in his recollection, delivering a command in his mind that differed from the one of the past.

“Tyrian, defend Frost.”

Half a century later, the second directive finally arrived.

Before Aiden could even finish his sentence, another deep roar echoed from afar.

“Third ship spotted! Not on the identification list!”

“Message from the Raven, they’re already in combat with multiple adversaries!”

“Communication from the Frost Navy, skirmishes have broken out near the city-state’s coast!”

“First and second main guns, focus on the ‘Knight’. Third main gun and long-range auxiliary guns, handle other threats within range,” Tyrian’s voice, steady as a rock, resounded over the speaker. He continued to calmly observe the silhouette of the enemy ship within the dense fog, a ship that was relentlessly advancing and firing under the veil of floating ice. “Don’t fret about the numbers – every unfamiliar entity that emerges on the sea is an enemy. This is merely the beginning.”

First Mate Aiden took the reins and roared, “Follow the captain’s orders! Open fire on anything that emerges from the sea. Even if they’ve been resurrected, these old vessels are no match for the Mist Fleet. Keep firing!”

With these commands echoing from the bridge, the Sea Mist’s main and auxiliary guns began a relentless salvo, round after round. Their blazing fury illuminated the chaotic fog again and again.

Amidst the thunderous cacophony of cannons, more unidentified ships began to surface on this expansive battlefield at sea!

Just as Tyrian had prophesied – this was merely the beginning.

Frost’s mirror image was ascending, the fog obscuring the borders of reality, and entities once sunk in this sea were intruding into reality in the form of replicas on a massive scale! Every emergent entity on the sea from this point forward was an enemy!

“Let’s create chaos!” Aiden’s booming voice reverberated within the bridge. This bald, muscular man had a near-savage grin adorning his face. It was clear that it had been a long time since he’d participated in such a thrilling battle. “Let’s unleash all the bottled-up frustrations from the past fifty years, brothers. Let’s show those weaklings in the Navy...”

Suddenly, Aiden’s enthusiastic proclamation was cut off abruptly, as if an unseen hand had seized his throat. His eyes widened as they locked onto something in the distance, and a moment later, Tyrian understood the reason behind Aiden’s startled reaction.

Another ship’s silhouette materialized abruptly from the dense nearby fog, charging into the battlefield with a speed mirroring that of a gusty wind and a lightning flash. This silhouette was unlike any of the enemies that had surfaced thus far, unlike any renowned ship within Tyrian’s recollection.

It was a solid mass of black fog, a corporeal shadow, an ethereal entity taking on the shape of a ship! It seemed like an eerie shadow reflected inversely from a mirror, tearing through the thick fog, howling as it headed straight for them. However, what rendered the crew of the Sea Mist speechless wasn’t the “Shadow Ship’s” ghostly form, but the “shadow” of that ship’s silhouette mirrored on the sea surface.

What they saw was unmistakably another ship, a ship engulfed in an eerie, luminescent green flame – a “Ghost Ship” that was even more haunting and horrifying than a specter in the eyes of the entire Mist Fleet. This “twin ship”, reflected in the sea as if by a mirror, materialized abruptly, screeching as it skimmed across the ocean surface – one emanating thick black smoke above the sea, the other radiating an ethereal green fire beneath the waters. It dashed past the Sea Mist, and in a heartbeat, it had already traversed to the opposite end of the battlefield.

Tyrian would be ready to swear on his father’s grave that he had never witnessed such an absurdly swift large ship in all his life!