Upon seeing Leon and the duchess leap off the cliff, many of the duchy's officers and soldiers panicked and rushed to the island's edge.
They expected to see bodies plunging into the endless void below—
but what appeared before their eyes froze them all in horror and disbelief.
Beneath the floating island, rising slowly out of the clouds, loomed a gigantic vessel—
a metallic monster of impossible size.
Its hull stretched over seven hundred meters in length and around one hundred and fifty in width.
It was so colossal that even the duchy's elite soldiers—men long accustomed to wonders of engineering—could not trust their own eyes.
How could something that massive have slipped unnoticed through the patrols of the duchy's finest ships and observers?
It was a mystery worth a million gold pieces.
> "What… what kind of monster is that…" whispered one of the officers, his legs trembling uncontrollably.
Suddenly, flashes of light ran across the giant's surface—one after another.
A deafening roar split the sky, followed by columns of smoke and fire.
Several duchy ships burst into flames and began falling from the heavens, trailing burning debris behind them.
Explosions rolled through the air like thunder over the sea.
> "Enjoy the show, Your Grace," Leon said with a smirk as he gently set Gertrude down on the deck of his ship.
It was the Partner—a vessel controlled by his artificial ally, Luxion.
But before the duchess could utter a word, Leon swiftly reached to his belt, pulled out a gag, and tied it over her mouth.
Then, with calm precision, he bound her hands and feet.
> "Better to be safe," he said dryly, seating Gertrude by the railing so she could have a perfect view of the unfolding battle.
Meanwhile, back on the island, Garrett roared in fury:
> "Gather all ships immediately! Bring that damned vessel down—whatever it takes!"
Officers shouted in unison and rushed to carry out his command.
But it was already too late—new flashes blinded their eyes.
More duchy ships caught fire; their hulls burned bright and tumbled downward, leaving long trails of smoke.
> "H-how is this possible?!" Garrett snarled, biting his nail in rage.
"That small ship has taken out so many of ours?!"
Before he could recover, new blips appeared on the horizon—more duchy ships, reinforcements.
Their numbers swelled by the minute, forming a massive encirclement around Leon's vessel.
And high above them hovered Vandel, the Black Knight of the Duchy, clad in his legendary armor.
Behind him followed dozens of other knights in flying suits of armor.
Within moments, roughly sixty warships of various types—all top of the line—and nearly a hundred armored knights surrounded the Partner.
Ten of them fired simultaneously.
But when the smoke cleared, Leon's ship stood untouched—
as if the barrage had never even happened.
> "Damn it…" Garrett gasped. "Is he invincible?!"
Before the remaining ships could even aim again, another vessel appeared from the north.
It was about two hundred meters long—sleek, almost woven from silver.
Despite its elegant appearance, its guns carried lethal power.
A few precise volleys—and six duchy ships erupted into flames, spiraling down in blazing wrecks.
That was the Einhorn, commanded by Clare.
Then came another strike—this time from the south, far stronger.
A new ship approached swiftly, leaving no doubt about its nature:
a pure warship, dark and massive, like the embodiment of menace itself.
A single salvo—and two of the duchy's battleships exploded midair, while ten more cruisers sank in infernal fire.
This ship was the Ideal.
But the nightmare for the duchy was only beginning.
> "Look—over there!" someone screamed in desperation.
From the east, something unbelievable approached the battlefield—
a colossal aircraft carrier, nearly a kilometer long and over three hundred meters wide.
Its smooth deck gleamed under the sunlight, lined with dozens of combat aircraft.
Several of them suddenly took off, soaring into the sky like a flock of hunting falcons.
Within seconds, they were among the duchy's fleet.
> "Hold your fire!" captains shouted frantically.
"You'll hit our own men!"
But it was too late.
The fighters dove into the enemy lines, unleashing rockets and energy blasts.
One by one, the duchy's ships ignited and fell, swallowed by clouds of fire and smoke.
Every remaining battleship of the duchy was destroyed—only the weaker vessels remained.
That titanic carrier was commanded by Legion.
And thus—within mere minutes—the proud and once-invincible fleet of the duchy was reduced to a storm of flames and wreckage.
More than half their ships were annihilated; the rest were crippled.
Even the bravest soldiers, realizing resistance was futile, began to surrender—dropping their weapons and raising white flags.
Yet amid the chaos, one man still stood.
One who refused to yield, even when the outcome was obvious.
His eyes burned with determination; his blade glowed crimson in the fiery light of destruction.
That man was Vandel, the Black Knight of the Duchy.