---
The sea rolled with a cold, mechanical rhythm as dawn broke over Fort Sentinel.
Bulwark stood moored at the southern dock, her shadow longer than any ship in Reeve's fleet. She wasn't a destroyer by classification—but in every other way, she was a warship that redefined expectation. Her decks bristled with modular turrets, her radar dome spun in a seamless loop, and her drone relays chattered with digital whispers.
Inside the command chamber, Admiral Reeve reviewed the latest recon packet.
> PLAYER FLEET UPDATE – LAMBDA-3 Vessel Count: 4 Hull Types: Cold War Retrofit Cruiser, WWII Corvettes, Cargo Freighter Leader: Unknown Player Tag – "BLACKCROWN"
"We need more data," he muttered. "They're coordinating."
Keira entered with a data slate in hand. "We finished decrypting the Red Ring cache. It confirms what we suspected. Blackcrown isn't just a rogue player—they're a collective. Maybe even a guild."
Reeve's eyes narrowed. "Meaning they can build, trade, and fight as a faction. What else?"
"They've salvaged a Soviet-era Kresta-class cruiser from a wreck off Sector Tau-7. Refit with reinforced armor and long-range rockets. ECM is weak—but firepower's heavy."
Reeve leaned over the map table. He tapped Echo Station and then Ironjaw.
"We'll lure them. Use a bait run. Deploy Atlas-02 with a light escort. Keep Bulwark and Lion on shadow patrol. Let them chase. Then we cut the net."
---
> MISSION: OPERATION PHANTOM WAKE Cargo: Processed Steel and Timber
Convoy: Atlas-02 + FFG Vanguard
Shadow Escort: Bulwark + Lion + Spectre-02
Route: Ironjaw – Echo Station – Sector Zeta-8
Objective: Confirm Hostile Interception, Engage, Salvage
---
By 0800, the convoy launched.
The sea was calm. No threats on radar. Reeve sat in the CIC aboard Bulwark, watching a live feed from Spectre-02's optic relay. The distant silhouettes of the freighter and its escort moved slow but steady through Zeta-8's wave-churned corridor.
Then came the flash.
"Radar spike," Keira called. "Four contacts. High wake, 22 knots. They're closing."
"Intercept course?"
"Direct."
Reeve stood. "Bring Bulwark around. Keep ECM active. Do not engage until I give the order."
---
At 0923, the Blackcrown fleet moved into range.
Through the drone cam, Reeve saw them clearly now:
A heavy cruiser hull, its bow armored with reclaimed plating, turrets retrofitted with Cold War rocket artillery.
Two corvettes running in tight escort formation, both painted blood-red with jury-rigged AA.
A bulk freighter armed with deck guns—likely a mobile base or refinery.
"Range: 18 kilometers," Keira reported. "They're broadcasting an open ping. Interrogative signal."
Reeve keyed the comms. "Broadcast this: Return to your waters. This route is under Sentinel control."
The reply was brief. Cold.
> [YOU HOLD NOTHING THAT CAN'T BE BROKEN. THIS SEA BELONGS TO THE OLD.] — BLACKCROWN
Reeve's jaw tightened.
"Engage."
---
The sea erupted.
Bulwark's VLS doors yawned open like the jaws of a predator. Forty missiles screamed skyward—twelve slammed down onto the enemy cruiser, punching through its outdated CIWS like wet paper. Flames belched from its midsection.
Lion broke left, unleashing NSMs at the lead corvette, slicing the smaller ship in two with precision strikes. Vanguard flanked from behind, targeting the freighter's rudder and fuel cells.
Spectre-02 hovered overhead, jamming and relaying real-time trajectories. Enemy rockets launched from the cruiser—unguided, blind—one striking water 200 meters short, another slamming uselessly into a wave.
The battle lasted six minutes.
By the end, all four enemy ships burned.
---
> ENEMY FLEET DESTROYED SALVAGE RECOVERED: – 1,300 Steel – 900 Timber – Cold War Blueprint Fragment: "RBU-6000 Rocket ASW Launcher" – Classified File (Locked): "Blackcrown Prime Directive – REDLIST: Reeve"
Keira read the final line and exhaled. "They've marked you. You're now a priority kill target."
Reeve just nodded.
"Let them come."
---
Back at Fort Sentinel, a new report came in.
> HQ UPGRADE STATUS: 84% TO LEVEL 6 Next Unlock: Drone Fleet Command + Sensor Fusion Lab
Reeve turned to Keira. "Prep the next recon. Let's find out where Blackcrown's building from."
And quietly, deep in the southern ocean, U-01 Shade continued her silent drift—pinging the seabed every hour.
Because Reeve knew something else.
If Blackcrown was this bold?
Then somewhere down there, in the trench-dark waters—was their real fleet.
---