Chapter 479

[Translator - Clara]

[Proofreader - Lucky ]

Chapter 479: The Naval Battle (1)

Whoossshhhhh—

The rain poured down in torrents.

The world, transformed into a sea, continued to grow more turbulent.

The people gathered in the bunker began to show signs of unease.

"Are we going to starve to death here?"

"What? We have a ton of food stockpiled. There's still plenty, isn't there?"

"Yeah, but what if this flood doesn't stop?"

"It'll only last for 150 days. There's enough food and even more water, so we're fine."

"But the outside world is already an ocean. And honestly, how can we be sure the flood will stop exactly after 150 days?"

"They say the eldest son of the Donquixote clan has gone to bring the fleet. That's why everyone is waiting."

The rumors among the refugees weren't baseless.

The highland bunker was both the safest fortress in the world and, at the same time, as isolated as a deserted island.

Perhaps that's why today, once again, Vikir was staring endlessly out at the distant sea.

Splash!

Waves crashed against the sturdy walls of the highlands, high enough to reach even the fortress.

The foam, blooming white as the water broke, resembled a field of flowers.

"......"

Vikir sat atop the fortress wall, letting the pouring rain soak him.

It was as though his body was being pounded by the cold rain, much like how hot iron is quenched in water.

At that moment—

"You're getting drenched again today, huh? So pitiful."

A voice called out from behind him.

It was Camus.

She too, walked over and sat beside Vikir, also getting drenched in the rain.

"It's really coming down hard," she remarked, watching the water cascade down the wall like a waterfall.

"If the demons hadn't turned the world into a fiery hell, this flood would have been a disaster in its own right. Two calamities offset each other, reducing the damage. This, too, went just as you calculated back in Nouvellebag, right? Before the volcano erupted."

"Mostly."

Vikir quietly nodded.

The calculations hadn't been perfect, but they were close enough.

Had the margin of error been any wider, it would have been disastrous.

"......"

"......"

Vikir and Camus stared in the same direction, saying nothing for a while.

In the end, it was Camus who broke the silence.

"......I'm sorry about your father."

At those words, Vikir, who had been standing completely still, finally showed a reaction.

Though it was barely noticeable, his shoulders trembled slightly.

The memory of that day still rang clearly in his ears.

".....Why did it have to come to this?"

"I don't know either."

His memory crumbled like white ash.

Hugo, who had died a heroic death, was a legend to everyone in the stronghold that day.

But to Vikir, Hugo was someone he had complicated feelings about.

"......He."

After a long silence, Vikir spoke.

"I don't understand how he crossed the threshold of the 9th Style."

The outcome was vastly different from his previous life.

Camus hesitated at Vikir's words.

"Actually..."

"?"

"A long time ago, he came to me."

What Camus said was surprising to Vikir.

"It was shortly after your trial. He wanted to discuss how to free you from prison. Oh, and it seems like he teamed up with Sadi, back then as well."

The fact that Sadi and Hugo had joined forces was a surprise to Vikir.

Hugo seemed to have prepared far more for Vikir than expected.

“Huh!?”

Aiyen, who had been sitting close to Vikir, suddenly jumped up. Her sharp eyesight had picked up something beyond the dark stormy waters.

She shouted loudly, “It’s here! The fleet is here!”

Sure enough, a massive ship began to appear, cutting through the towering waves and fierce storm.

The enormous, heavy ships pressed forward toward the highland fortress, undeterred by the rough seas. There were so many ships; their sheer numbers were awe-inspiring.

Dolores, with a look of joy, also shouted, “It’s Tudor! Tudor has returned!”

As she said, the lead ship bore the flag of Donquixote, a symbol of the Solar Spear Clan. Even from afar, it was clear the ship was carrying a large number of people.

“It’s true! The fortress hasn’t been submerged!”

“If we reach there, will there really be food?”

“Salvation is real! There is still dry land!”

“We should’ve trusted the Night Walkers when they warned us! If only we had listened earlier...”

Countless refugees were aboard the massive fleet of ships.

And at the helm of the lead ship, two familiar figures stood—Tudor and Bianca.

“Vikir! I’m sorry we’re late! I’m ashamed!”

“This fool insisted on rescuing everyone stranded in the highlands, which delayed us!”

Even in such a moment of triumph, the two continued to bicker.

Camus, Aiyen, Dolores, Sinclaire, and Kirko all looked on with concern at the numerous refugees now approaching the fortress.

“If we take them all in, won’t our food supply diminish?”

“Hm, there could be new security issues as well.”

“It’s fine. We’ve been told we have enough food, and with the Nouvellebag team joining us, security should be manageable.”

“We can last at least five months. I’ve already poured all of my Clan’s resources into this.”

“It’s good to pursue justice, but we can’t let anything disrupt the final battle.”

At that very moment—

"It doesn't matter. We'll be leaving here soon anyway."

Vikir finally stood up.

"Now, it's time for the final battle."

Everyone's expressions hardened. They all understood what Vikir meant. The decisive showdown in the Imperial City was near. The final moment was approaching.

---

The number and variety of ships Tudor brought were staggering.

There were small, nimble longships, karve with 13 oars and 26 rowers, snekkja with 20 oars and room for 40 rowers, skeid that could carry 100 warriors, and the massive drakkar, capable of transporting over 1,000 fighters.

[Tl/N: Types of ships.]

Moreover, these ships were manned by the seasoned veterans of the Donquixote C;an, known for their mastery of the open seas. They were fearless sailors who had once navigated the frozen North Sea as if it were flat land, and now they pushed boldly toward the empire’s submerged heart.

***

Swoosh—Crash!

The many ships cut through the rough waters, the united forces of the Baskerville Clan, the Morg Clan, the Quovadis Clan, and the survivors of the Bourgeois, Don Quixote, and Usher Clan were all aboard.

Even members from the Colosseo Academy, the Temiscuira Women’s College, the Barangian Military Academy, and the Mage tower had gathered.

Among them were renowned figures like Osiris, the Seven Counts, Respane, Adolf, Pope Nabokov I, Cardinal Luther, Inquisitor Mozgus, Damian, and Principal Banshee. All stood at the forefront of the coming battle, alongside countless others whose fates had intertwined with Vikir.

The Tochka Alliance boarded the Don Quixote fleet, sailing toward the Imperial City charting a course inward, closer to the heart of their enemy.

---

Vikir stood at the stern of the lead ship, gazing out at the endless horizon.

Clang—

Each time the ship rocked from side to side, the chains wrapped around Vikir’s hands scraped against the deck.

Beside him, Minipin and Chihuahua looked on with concern.

"Uh-oh! Y-Young Master! Over there...!"

Vikir turned his gaze to where Chihuahua was pointing. A massive shadow passed beneath the waves near the ship. It was a giant sea monster, the likes of which shouldn’t exist in these waters.

'So that's what’s become of the Imperial City.'

The place where the emperor once ruled—now home to the crown prince, submerged beneath the sea. Vikir could guess what it looked like now.

Their final opponent in the empire’s capital was First Corpse.

The end of the road, the moment for vengeance for all his fallen comrades, was slowly coming into view.

Whoooosh—

A fierce sea breeze filled the sails, and the ship began to fly over the waves.

Clang—

Again, the chains scraped across the deck as Vikir tightened his grip on them. Minipin, noticing the end of the chain, hesitantly asked, "Uh, Sir Vikir, I’ve been wondering... what is that?"

Minipin asked Vikir about the thing attached to the chains.

It was a coffin.

Vikir was carrying a large, heavy coffin, its contents unknown to all.

[Translator - Clara]

[Proofreader - Lucky ]