Amidst Crashing Waves II

Lias del Romero, Commander of the Western Navies, stood at the heart of the bridge within the Cronqvist, the largest airship in his fleet. Walls of tempered steel surrounded him, and so did seven crewmates essential to flying the ship from that room.

From the bridge’s windows, he watched the Kenichi Modern struggle to keep itself afloat in the sky amidst ceaseless barrages of magical bolts. A smile was affixed on his face, and had never left since the start of the attack—even as he had already lost two ships.

“His machine is performing as Marina had said,” he said as he paced around the room, talking to no one in particular. “But it’s not as impressive as I thought it would be.”

“Lias,” a voice from some kind of metal speaker spoke out—a woman’s, mature and steady with authority. “You’ve already lost two dreadnaughts battling the otherworlder. Pull back.”

“Only because the otherworlder is clever. I believe it is worth putting forth more resources to take care of them now.” Lias thumbed his chin and grimaced. “He will be a threat later.”

“You would risk the wellbeing of our Cronqvist?”

“Look at it. I know you can see it from where you stand, woman,” Lias said, frustrated. “It may have scuttled two of our ships, but it has been meandering for the past few minutes already. I believe our otherworldly guest has already run out of steam—so to speak. What more can he do?”

Silence. Then, a sigh followed from beyond the communicator.

“...Lias del Romero. I order you—”

He flicked a switch below the radio, cutting off the woman and silencing the device. The crew glanced at him, apprehensive, but he shot them a belligerent scowl, silencing any discord then and there.

“Accursed woman, del Alfons matron. Just because a commoner like you had reached a station far beyond your means, that gives you the right to command me?” he muttered.

I am Lias del Romero, Commander of the Western Navies. These waters have been mine far longer than you have risen to power, del Alfons. Such were thoughts he entertained, but dared not speak out loud.

He stomped forward, arms crossed and eyes affixed on the buzzing Kenichi Modern between their airships. “Is the Tristan ready yet?”

One of the crewmates, an older man in their late fifties, stammered out a response. “S-Sir, using the Tristan for combat right now would be—”

“Risky, I know,” Lias said as a matter of fact. “However, while the otherworlder is—”

A fireball struck the starboard side of the airship to Lias’ left, sending it hurtling into the sea in a blaze of glittering chaos. The deafening boom of its detonation followed after, straining Lias’ senses.

“What!” he grunted. “How did the otherworlder—”

A stream of fiery bullets struck the bridge’s windows, but a glass-like magical barrier protected them from the worst, rippling like a puddle in the rain.

No matter the intent of the otherworlder—whether they were aiming to kill or simply wanting to intimidate Lias—

He would take it all the same.

A threat. A challenge.

It didn’t matter what the del Alfons woman wanted.

He will have the otherworlder’s head.

****

Haruki rolled the Kenichi Modern to the side, shards of molten rock and ice scraping new scars into its left wing. Fragments of the glittery chaos erupting from the sinking airship’s side blemished the plane’s underside.

His heart was thumping, not just from the thrill of a close shave—but because the same divine force that was granting him use of magic—that same force was being siphoned back to the girl behind him.

His muscles tightened, arms tightening around the control lever as he pitched the plane up. The extra effort made him groan.

“That’s three down,” Flare said, a renewed spirit in her voice. “We’re halfway there.”

Haruki glanced at the shadows moving underwater that seemed to avoid joining the rest of the fleet, but have been circling the combat zone since the start of the raid. “Not yet. Still have those Whales to worry about.”

“They’re harmless to us. And they’ll have to come up for air at some point. They can’t stay underwater forever.”

So that’s why they’re called Whales. Very on the nose for whichever otherworlder brought submarines into this world.

They flew away from the fleet, then circled around. The magic bolt barrages began again, but at a much slower pace. The ship’s defenses seemed to be losing steam, too.

Haruki flew under one airship, and with his back turned to its starboard side, Flare conjured another fireball effortlessly, and hurled it into its volatile underbelly. It once again erupted into fiery chaos, tilting the ship on its side and crashing into the water.

“Another one!”

Without circling for another salvo, they flew under another ship and detonated it the same way. Five down.

Flare chortled. “That’ll teach ‘em to keep their explosives there!”

Haruki pitched the plane up and circled the fleet to gain overwatch of the flaming junk heap the Western Navy fleet has become. He counted five—no, ten—sinking ships?

His head pulsed with a dull ache, and his vision blurred double. Shaking it off, he regained composure, but still felt his veins running cold.

“Y-Yeah,” he said weakly. “What’s next, that one?”

Flare turned her attention to the remaining dreadnought she knew as the Cronqvist. “That one’s gonna be much tougher. They keep their volatiles quite deep.”

“But you can blow them up all the same, right?”

“Not so easy with that magic barrier above the base of their ship, no,” she said. “But, if you were to just—”

A big glint of light flashed from a metal mass on top of the Cronqvist. Then, a giant wave of flaming plasma raced straight towards the KM.

Haruki rolled the plane left until both he and Flare almost tumbled out—though she almost did, seatbelt unstrapped.

The air around them superheated. Haruki could feel his skin sizzling under the heat. A blurry haze was left where that giant wave of plasma passed.

“What the hell was that!” Haruki shouted.

“I have no idea, but…” Flare surveyed the Cronqvist and noticed the newly placed cannon on its front deck. “That’s probably the culprit.”

“Yeah, I can see that!”

Men beside the cannon opened a compartment, unloaded a giant bullet-looking shell, then loaded another. Without delay, the cannon charged again, glinted, then fired. Another wave of fiery death.

Haruki rolled again, but the wave inched closer this time, chipping wood off the wing. “Goddammit! Too close!”

Without so much as a break, the cannon fired again. Haruki evaded once more, but barely. Another followed—then another roll. Each shot was getting closer.

“We need to act fast,” Flare said.

“No shit!” he said. Out of options, Haruki dove for the cannon, risking a maneuver.

Haruki fired his mounted guns at the cannon, but the same kind of glass-like barrier that protected the bridge—and the Dragon King—plinked his bullets off. “Thier stupid barrier goes one way? Son of a—”

The cannon poised to fire again. Oh, shit. Haruki’s neck tightened, ready to gamble it all on a decisive roll.

When the glint flashed, explosive shells hit the dreadnought’s bottom hull, rocking it and sending the wave of plasma just meters off the KM.

Haruki pulled up and saw the Legrassi I angled sideways, cannons firing at the Cronqvist. The dreadnought stood by helplessly, its bow aimed toward the pirate ship, no cannons mounted up front.

Flare’s eyes widened with surprise. “They’re…”

She closed her eyes, thoughts clearly swirling in her head. Then, she said: “Haruki, turn us around one more time.”

“What’re you planning? They’re just gonna shoot us again, you know.”

“I know that,” she said. “But while my men are keeping ‘em busy, just give me one more pass. Please.”

Haruki groaned and tightened his brow at the word ‘Please.’ Uncharacteristic of her. “Alright.”

He felt Flare would do something. Nay—he knew she was. But with their options to survive the day dwindling, alongside the KM’s fuel, they needed a decisive move. Fast.

The KM made a quick turnaround and poised to fly over the cannon as the crew loaded the next shell into its chamber. When he did, Flare rose from the co-pilot seat and grabbed the fuselage tight.

“Let me tell you something about these barriers, Haruki,” Flare said with a smolder. “You know the one thing they let pass?”

“What?”

“People.”

When the KM flew over the cannon, Flare jumped off the plane and onto the cannon, a pea-sized fireball in hand.

“Flare!” Haruki screamed as he left the vicinity of the dreadnought and realized what Flare had done.

Flare phased through the barrier, its surface rippling like a boulder had just splashed into water. The fireball in her hand then grew in size, and she crashed into the cannon like a blazing meteor.

The cannon erupted into fireworks, its sudden explosion engulfing the ship’s bow and rupturing its height from top to bottom.

Feeling his energy sapped, Haruki winced. Flare took up a lot of magic from him, and as far as he knew, she could’ve been dead.

But watching the still-flying dreadnought, he knew:

They weren’t done yet.

Shaking off Flare’s possible demise, he turned the KM again and circled the airship, evading fire as he went. He then aligned himself—right in front of the open bow.

With flaming anger in his eyes, he bit his lip and whispered:

“Eat this, you sons of bitches.”

Summoning that divine strength again, granted from two Sky Links, he formed a ball of wind with a hot molten core inside in front of his propeller. The stench of stale sulfur assaulted his senses.

I’ve always wanted to say this. “Fox 1!”

With a mighty force of wind, the magical amalgamation shot itself forward like a missile into the open hole of the Cronqvist. Haruki immediately pulled up and flew past.

The wind ripped itself into silence, then the heart of the dreadnought exploded up and down, tearing the airship in half.

The dreadnought fell, its front crashing into the sea first. Its back half followed—but not without a smaller airship, only a tenth of its size, shooting forth from a bay on its lower back.

What, you have escape ships too? He couldn’t even imagine seeing this kind of technology pulled off back in his world, it was a wonder why seeing a plane like his was such an occasion here.

The airship sped in the direction of the Inverted City, flying low and skimming the surface of the water. The two Whales flanked it left and right as if in formation.

They were fast. But nothing the Kenichi Modern couldn’t chase.

“Oh no, you don’t!” Bloodlust filling his beating heart, Haruki began to follow the airship, finger itching at his mounted guns’ trigger.

Then, a chug of the engine.

The KM’s engine quieted; once a mighty constant roar, now sputtering, a rumble, and a hollow knocking in its place.

No, no, no! Not now!

The KM began to descend unwillingly. Haruki, with the engine’s final burst of energy, pulled the plane’s nose to level so as to not crash headfirst into the ocean.

Freshwater splashed as the KM’s pontoons touched the surface of the water. His plane shook, the force of the landing spilling water into the pilot seat, drenching Haruki.

His plane’s engine sputtered dead, and Haruki watched the small airship and the Whales leave in the direction of the Inverted City.

And just like that—for the first time in his time in this other world—

His co-pilot seat was empty.