Vandoria Demon Subjugation Fleet
Inside the dimly lit war room, Admiral Lorenzo listened in silence as his captains, using the one-hour time limit, argued their best course of action.
"Their attack is powerful, that much is undeniably true."
"But we can't take everything they said at face value. There must be lies mixed in."
"We still outnumber them," another captain insisted. "Forty ships against their eleven—no, seven now, since four of theirs are towing away our frigates somewhere."
"Maybe it's a bluff," someone whispered. "What if their claim about having hundreds of those 'Tomahawks' is a lie?"
"That would explain why they sabotaged our frigates instead of destroying them outright."
"But why hijack them at all?"
At last, Admiral Lorenzo rose to his feet. The room fell silent as his gaze swept across his officers.
"Gentlemen… this war is no longer about conquering the demons. Today, we learned something far more terrifying: they have ships. Ships capable of crossing oceans. Ships capable of invading any coast on our continent."
He took a breath.
"And we practically invited them by starting this war."
A heavy quiet fell. Every captain understood the implication. Their kingdom's arrogance had poked a hornet's nest the size of a continent.
"But our duty remains," Lorenzo continued. "We stop any threat approaching our shores. Therefore, we stop their navy here."
The captains straightened.
"I'm placing my bet on Captain Kaca's theory—that their entire display was an elaborate bluff. Demons have never been merciful. If they could annihilate us, they would've done so already."
"So we're calling their bluff?" a captain asked.
"Yes. We use our numbers and charge in loose formation. They can't repeat their nighttime sneak attack in broad daylight."
"But sir, the distance between us is still too great—and their weapon range far outstrips ours."
"That's why we close the distance," Lorenzo said. "All mages assigned to shields will move to sail duty. They'll cast wind continuously and drive the ships as fast as possible—even if it risks breaking the masts."
"Sir… we'll be heading into battle without any magical protection."
"Speed is our only chance. And our mages' shields—" he exhaled bitterly, "—are worthless against their firepower."
He looked each of them in the eye.
"I won't lie. Many of us, perhaps all of us, may die. But if we can destroy some of their ships, we buy our kingdom a better chance in the future."
A man like Admiral Lorenzo—cautious, experienced, beloved—only spoke of death when no other option existed. And that was enough. The captains saluted him.
"Admiral! It was an honor to serve under you!"
"The honor is mine," Lorenzo replied.
---
Murica First Fleet, HMS Behemoth Bridge
The Vandorians were right about one thing: Murica had been bluffing. They just had no idea why.
The elaborate "fear show" wasn't intimidation—it was logistics. Monny wanted the Vandorian ships intact so Ravendawn could use them as cargo vessels. Building proper infrastructure would take months. Captured ships? Immediate relief.
So the Murican navy—long deprived of a proper slaughterfest—was ordered to hold back and avoid obliterating everything.
Admiral Rusalka sighed dramatically.
"Huft… Captain, did you hear they fired a MOAB yesterday?"
"Yes, ma'am. How fortunate for them," Captain Cetus replied.
"Sometimes I wonder why we had to be born as water-type demons instead of land-type. Don't you think it's kind of racist that just because we are water-type, we are being assigned to the Navy? Do you think I should complain to the Pentagon HR department about this? Yeah, maybe I should."
The one-hour time limit felt so long for Captain Cetus since he had to endure his superior ranting and complaining—until the alarm saved him.
TING
"One hour's up. Enemy status?" he asked quickly.
"Sir, there is no white flag on the enemy ships, and they keep advancing," a sailor reported. "Uh… and somehow they are able to move at 24 knots. That's three times faster than their speed before."
"Huft… those idiots…!" Admiral Rusalka muttered.
Cetus stiffened. "I'm terribly sorry, Admiral… I have prepared the teams on the deck below."
"Yeah, yeah… It's not your fault, Captain. It's an order." She sighed hard. "But I already promised Stan that if this happens again, I will go back full tribal as the Siren Queen and kick his ass."
She walked off the bridge in defeat.
"I'm heading down. You take care of the rest."
"Aye, ma'am… finally," Cetus whispered.
---
Vandoria Demon Subjugation Fleet
Under Lorenzo's command, the entire fleet surged forward at dangerous speed. Ten mages per ship blasted wind into the sails. This dangerous maneuver gusted violent winds strong enough to mimic a storm.
Dozens of sailors clung to reinforced ropes, trying desperately to keep the masts from snapping.
CRACK!
One mast gave way, crushing men on deck before plunging into the sea.
"DO NOT STOP! MAGES, KEEP CASTING!" the captain roared.
A lookout screamed:
"ENEMIES INCOMING! EIGHT HELL DRAGONFLIES!"
Four Vipers, two Venoms, and two Seahawks descended, the Venoms carrying massive loudspeakers.
"BALLISTAS! GET READY FOR BATTLE!"
They fired, but the helicopters easily stayed out of range.
"They're too far!"
Then, insultingly, the Venoms hovered directly above the center of the fleet—perfectly unreachable.
Rusalka's voice blared from the speakers:
"Testing, testing… 1-2. HEY, ASSHOLES! YOUR ONE HOUR IS UP AND YOU'RE STILL COMING?"
"Are they provoking us again?" Lorenzo murmured.
"FLEET COMMANDER! YOU'RE AN IDIOT!"
"H-Huh?"
"YOUR MOM IS AN IDIOT TO GIVE BIRTH TO YOU, YOUR GRANDMA IS AN IDIOT TO GIVE BIRTH TO YOUR MOM… ACTUALLY, YOUR WHOLE FAMILY TREE ARE IDIOTS!"
Lorenzo wondered if the one who leads the frightening demon Navy is a 16-year-old teenage girl.
"NOW YOU'VE FORCED ME TO DO THIS—AND I HATE IT, FYI!"
Admiral Lorenzo didn't understand a thing.
"1…2…1-2-3-4"
The music started.
A playful and smooth jazzy tune drifted over the fleet.
"What's this? …music?"
It's the intro of the song Beyond The Sea, which, of course, none of the Vandorians knew.
Then a clear, beautiful voice sang:
"SOMEWHERE UNDER THE SEA,
SOMEWHERE WAITING FOR ME…"
As the Vandorians heard Rusalka's beautiful voice, men froze mid-task.
"It's… beautiful…"
"It's beautiful…"
"She sounds like a goddess…"
"SOMEWHERE, UNDER THE SEA~,
SHE'S THERE WATCHING FOR ME~…"
One mage smiled dreamily.
"…Someone beautiful is waiting for me down there…"
"He—Hey?? What are you two doing?" a mage said to her fellow mages. "Keep casting the wind spell!"
He stepped off the ship and plunged into the sea—straight into a swarm of demon sharks.
Other men were jumping left and right into the ocean from every ship, even when their fellow sailors tried to stop them.
"S-SIR! Our men are jumping overboard!" a captain yelled.
A female mage screamed,
"IT'S THE SONG! IT'S AN ILLUSION ATTACK!"
---
Murica First Fleet, HMS Behemoth Music Studio
A cabin had been converted into a soundproof studio, complete with instruments. Inside, Rusalka performed with her band of sirens, reluctantly but professionally.
Her voice flowed like silk—silk made by a black widow spider.
With her singing, any man with a weak mind is easily lured to drown himself in the ocean.
Meanwhile, for men with stronger minds, well, it's the same, given stronger volume and longer duration.
Long ago, she'd accepted Stan's offer to command Murica's Navy on the condition that she never had to drown men the "old-fashioned way" anymore.
Today, his country betrayed her.
---
Vandoria Demon Subjugation Fleet
"WE'LL MEET BELOW THE SHORE~…"
Female mages scrambled, casting sound barriers and dispels to protect the men.
RATATATATAT—
Viper helicopters strafed them mercilessly, eliminating anyone who tried to counter the song.
Lorenzo pressed his palms against his ears, resisting with every ounce of will. But more and more men leapt overboard, vanishing beneath thrashing red waves and hungry fins.
Above him, the Venoms hovered—untouchable, unstoppable.
"Volume up a bit," the female co-pilot said casually.
The song swelled.
"I KNOW BEYOND A DOUBT, AH! MY HEART~"
One by one, Lorenzo's sailors surrendered to the melody.
"…Captain," Lorenzo whispered, "raise the white flag."
"Sir?"
"I would gladly die to protect our kingdom… but this?" He looked at the bodies falling into the sea. "This is meaningless…"
The white flag rose.
---
Murica First Fleet, HMS Behemoth Bridge
"…Captain, the enemies are raising the white flags. They are surrendering."
"Turn off the music."
"Aye, sir."
"And tell the admiral that her performance is a success… No, belay that order… just bring her her favorite ice cream."
---
DMZ
In the barren field where the battle of the gate happened yesterday, Murican soldiers cleared the battlefield from yesterday's fight. POWs were escorted to trucks. Heavy machinery scooped bodies for disposal.
The Muricans didn't want to leave their front door full of litter.
Two Abrams crew lounged on their tank.
"I heard our navy is facing the Vandorian fleet today."
"Yeah, I bet they are having as much fun as us yesterday."
"Where are they taking those POWs?"
"I don't know, either to prisons or to the processing plants."
"Don't they need to be screened first by the CDC before we can eat them?"
"You're right. But I saw some of our guys are just too curious and ate the fresh-looking corpse."
"Raw? Eww, gross. Can't they just be a civilized demon? What age do they think we live in??"
Their tank commander popped out from the Abrams hatch.
"We're moving. Replacement tank's here. Let's go home and get some dinner. Where's Morsov?"
"COMING,"
Morsov climbed up from behind, blood still on his mouth.
"Ew, Morsov, did you eat a human corpse? Disgusting!" the loader groaned.
"Heheh, sorry. Just trying the ancestor way."
"Don't get poisoned and die, man," the gunner said. "You still owe me 200 bucks."
"Jeez, this again?"
"Cut the chatter, boys. Morsov, take us home."
Somehow Morsov was just being quiet on his seat and didn't turn on the engine.
"...This again? ...t-this…a-a-again?" muttered Morsov.
"Hey… Morsov?"
His body suddenly convulsed—growing, ripping through his uniform.
"THIS!?? AGAIN!??? RRAAAAAGGH!" he roared, fangs and claws erupting.
"WHOAAA!"
"KYAAAA"
The commander drew his pistol as the gunner and loader shrieked.
"W-What? MORSOV, WHAT'S GOING ON WITH YOU?"
They hugged the commander like scared children.
"MORSOV CHILL, MAN!" the gunner screamed. "IS IT BECAUSE OF THE 200 BUCKS?"
"RRROAAAAAARRR!" the monsterfied Morsov replied with his roar.
"AAAAAHH, I'M SORRY! YOU CAN TAKE IT! YOU CAN TAKE IT!"
"You two…" the tank commander whispered. "Slowly get out of here…"
The two tank crew quickly but as silently as possible climbed out the hatch.
"Morsov…" the commander persuaded. "Calm down… calm down…"
"RRROAAAAAAARR"
Morsov tried to reach the tank commander aggressively; the tank commander quickly jumped out of the hatch.
"RRRAAAARR"
As he followed the commander out of the hatch, the crew boots started kicking his head back down and slamming the hatch shut.
Clank!
But Morsov kept banging the hatch, trying to force it open.
BANG BANG BANG BANG
But after a while, silence.
"Hufft… hufft… hufft… MORSOV, YOU ASSHOLE!" the gunner yelled. "MONSTER OR NOT, YOU STILL OWE ME 200 BUCKS!"
Then—
RATATATATATATATATATATA
The Abrams crews looked across the DMZ.
More monsters—just like Morsov—were rampaging toward the prisoners, while Murican soldiers opened fire to protect them.
"Jesus…" the commander whispered. "What the hell is going on…?"