Toot——!
The steam turbine roared loudly, and a massive gray-painted ironclad battleship sliced through the waves, speeding like it was fleeing into the depths of the Black Sea.
The battleship had gradually moved away from Atlant's royal capital, political, economic, cultural, and transportation center, and main port "Oslo City." One could still faintly hear the cheers of the city's populace.
"Atlant, which has been standing for nearly a thousand years... Has my kingdom come to an end like this?"
King of Atlant, oh, the "former" king Haral I stood on the deck of the ironclad battleship, his face gray and murmuring to himself.
Even though a whole day had passed, he still felt like he was in a dream, and it was a nightmare from which he could never wake.
Behind him was a group of royal family members, and the mournful sobs of the remaining elders and descendants of the former country.
Previously.
