Hearthguard Cairn, Murica Embassy
RATATATATATATATA—
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The battle around the Murican embassy raged on without pause.
Dwargonian steam armor units moved with startling agility. Despite their bulky, boiler-plated appearance, they sprinted, slid along the ground using the foldable wheels on their feet, and leapt two stories high with ease. They could even cling to walls by digging their claw-like gauntlets into the stone.
And worst of all—small-caliber rounds barely scratched them.
RATATATATA! RATATATATA!
An MSG operator fired at a steam armor clinging to the building across the street. His rounds struck true, but the armor barely flinched before leaping upward and disappearing onto the next floor.
"SHIT! THEY'RE FAST!" he yelled while slamming a new magazine into place.
Sensing its chance, the steam armor fired back.
BOOM! BOOM!
A pair of cannonballs tore into the wall beside him, nearly taking his head off. MSGs positioned at the windows immediately retaliated, unleashing a barrage.
RATATATATATATATA—
This volley punched through. The armor shuddered, lost its grip, and toppled four stories down into the street.
"YOU IDIOT! USE AP ROUNDS! REMEMBER THE BRIEFING!"
But agility wasn't the only problem.
Dwargonia also fielded heavy-class steam armor—towering machines with reinforced plating, a tower shield in one hand, and a massive cannon in the other. Even concentrated AP fire only dented their shields.
One of the heavies leveled its cannon at a second-story window.
BOOM—KA-BOOOOM!
The explosion wiped out the MSG squad inside.
The heavies then advanced with metallic slides, closing in on the embassy—
—until a sudden explosion ripped one of them apart.
The half-destroyed armor clattered sideways, its lower half missing. Smoke trailed from the embassy window where an MSG stood, the barrel of his M32 Grenade Launcher still steaming.
The Dwargonian commander snarled.
"Send the spider in."
---
The last of the Mara wine was already gone.
RATATATATA!
MSGs at the study's windows kept up suppressive fire while Mara and Levi lounged casually on the sofa.
"So, what do you think is our best course, sir?" Mara asked.
Levi tapped his chin. "Hmm…"
"The MSGs are ready to punch us through their blockade. It'll be bloody, but they're confident we can reach one of the vertical elevators out of Hearthguard Cairn. Once outside, we'll use the satellite phone to request extraction from our fleet."
"I see… hmm… I wonder if there's another way," Levi murmured.
Before Mara could respond—
"THEY BROUGHT SPIDERS!" an MSG shouted.
"Spiders?" Levi blinked.
"The Dwargonian urban-combat tanks," Mara explained. "Mechanical spider chassis. Cannon on top. Extremely effective in cities."
---
Clank. Clank. Clank. Clank.
Three massive mechanical spider tanks marched toward the embassy. Each machine was as large as a bus, supported by eight steel legs and armed with a dorsal cannon.
Two spiders split off to flank the embassy.
The last one aimed directly at the reinforced front door.
BOOOOM!
---
200 Nautical Miles East of Ravendawn
"FIRE!"
BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM
The Ravendawn 64‑gun ship unleashed a full broadside at the Dwargonian destroyer. The destroyer was already ablaze and perforated with holes; crewmembers were jumping overboard to escape the burning deck.
The destroyer groaned and began to sink.
"WE WON!!!"
Cheers erupted across the Ravendawn vessel—they had managed to defeat a Dwargonian destroyer. Something that was amazing for a 64‑gun ship to achieve—everyone celebrated except the captain, who stared grimly at the wreckage.
"…I really have a bad feeling about this."
Above, even the lookout was cheering—until something glinted high in the sky.
He raised his Murican binoculars.
"A‑AIRSHIP! DWARGONIAN AIRSHIP APPROACHING!"
His scream froze the celebration instantly.
---
In the darkness, the ship's mage continued her chant. She was in terrible shape—blood ran from her nose and ears as mana exhaustion ravaged her body.
"Mu…gi… mengsah…mengah… K‑kula terus ningali… ingkang boten leres— COUGH!"
She collapsed mid‑chant, the magic circle flickering out.
"Wheeze… wheeze…"
She tried to gasp for air, but her organs had already ruptured. She died gasping in the dark.
---
As the mage's life faded, a wave of dizziness washed over the ship—but this time it passed quickly.
The captain shook it off. "C‑comm!"
"Aye, captain?"
"Request backup! Tell base the enemy is too much—we need Murican assistance!"
---
On the Dwargonian gunship, the captain and the rest of the crew were furious seeing the Dwargonian merchant ship already capsized by the Ravendawn patrol. They saw so many dwarves in the water; some were still alive, but many were lifeless. It had only been a week since they lost the Atlas on the Ravendawn Canal; now another civilian ship was being sunk by the Ravendawn patrol.
"How many passengers on that ship manifest?" asked the captain.
"Forty-six crew, sir," replied one of the officers.
"And what's the reply from base?"
"Our permission to engage has been granted."
"Gunner! Aim at the Ravendawn ship!"
---
"THEY'RE AIMING THEIR CANNON AT US!" the lookout screamed.
"RAISE THE SHIELD!"
But then—
"Sir… reply from base…" the comm officer said. "They can't send assistance. Neither can the Muricans."
"W-what!? Why!?"
"They advise us to surrender, sir…"
A painful silence followed.
The captain knew the truth: their only anti-air defense was the M45 Quadmount, a World War II-era system bought from the Muricans. Every Ravendawn officer had been educated by the Muricans about the differences and effectiveness of calibers.
He knew against a Dwargonian armored gunship, it was worthless.
"…Raise the white flag," he said, defeated.
"…Aye, sir."
---
"Sir, they're surrendering."
"Cowards," the Dwargonian captain spat. "Let's see how you like helplessness. No mercy. FIRE!"
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The armored gunship opened fire, tearing apart the Ravendawn vessel. A single shell struck their ammunition hold—
KABOOOOOOM!
The ship split in half in a fiery blast, killing all eighty-nine souls aboard.
---
Hearthguard Cairn, Murica Embassy
KABOOOOOM!
The spider tank blew open the embassy's reinforced door. Two steam armors rushed in, met with heavy fire from every window. One fell, but the other burst inside.
It scanned left and right—no demons, only two corpses from the spider's blast. Then it spotted the stairs.
It dashed upward—
BANG!
A slug slammed into its side, staggering it. The shooter—a demon MSG wielding a Benelli M4—advanced.
Ch-ch—BANG! Ch-ch—BANG!
AP rounds hammered the armor. Sparks erupted; joints malfunctioned.
The armor trembled, frozen in place.
The MSG stepped in front of the cockpit.
Ch-ch—BANG.
The pilot slumped dead.
---
KABOOOM!
Another room exploded as the spider fired again, killing the MSGs inside.
"GET CARL AND GUSTAF!" the commander barked.
Two MSGs from the heavy weapons team rushed in with the black case, assembling the 84mm recoilless rifle.
"Blow that spider."
"BACK BLAST CLEAR!"
WHOOSH—BOOOOOM!
"Spider down!"
"Good. Hunt the others."
The commander turned to Levi and Ambassador Mara.
"Sirs! The embassy's compromised. It's time to move."
"Well, you heard him," Mara said.
But Levi muttered as they walked: "What to do… what to do…"
At the back door, an MSG peeked outside. A spider tank blocked their escape route.
WHOOSH—BOOOOM!
A rocket from above blew it apart.
"Second spider down."
"Bring the car to the back," the commander ordered.
Then Levi suddenly snapped his fingers. "Ah! I know what I want to do!"
Everyone stared.
"…Sir?" Mara asked cautiously.
"I want to surrender," Levi announced.
"W-WHAT!?" the commander sputtered. "We're about to escape!"
"Yes—yes, and I believe they know our capabilities to escape as well." Levi cheerfully clapped his hands. "So! Doing the unexpected will annoy whoever planned this. Call it a devil's intuition."
Mara sighed. "Just follow his orders."
The commander groaned. "You could've told us sooner, sir…"
"Hahaha, sorry."
The commander raised his comm. "All units, lower weapons. We're surrendering."
And just like that, the embassy's epic battle ended anticlimactically—
Because Levi said so.
---
Dawn New Port
At Dawn Port, the salvaged front half of the Dwargonian ship lay on land. BICH investigators combed through the wreckage.
Megan had brought Archmage Gregor along.
"No gunpowder residue," Megan said. "So not a normal explosive. Strange, since the Dwargonians also use gunpowder like us."
"So you want me to check for a mana signature?" Gregor asked.
"Yes. Only noble demons or higher have strong mana perception these days."
Gregor chuckled. "Ah yes, your anti-demon vaccines. Quite thorough."
"Better that than becoming mindless ferals," Megan replied.
They approached the hull breach—steel bent outward from an internal blast.
"It's fascinating to see this up close," Gregor said, raising both glowing palms. "This may take some time."
"I'll leave you to it," Megan said.
But before she could walk away, a BICH agent pulled up in a golf cart.
"Ma'am, the necro team needs you. They found something."
"Take me to them," Megan replied, hopping in.
---
Inside a large storage room, rows of recovered corpses lay in neat lines. Necromancers moved carefully from body to body, extracting their final memories.
The agent led Megan to a newly recovered body.
"A male dwarf, already bloated. Identified as the Dwargonian ambassador," the agent said, opening the body bag zipper. "We already verified it with the other survivor. We're waiting for you before we start the extraction."
Megan exhaled sharply. "Let's proceed."
The necromancer placed a hand on the ambassador's head. Darkness pulsed from his palm.
"…Brain's degraded. Memories blurry… too long underwater," the necromancer muttered.
Megan grimaced. Someday someone needed to invent a memory-to-TV converter—listening to necromancers was like attending an old séance.
"…Ah. Here we go," the necromancer said. "I see his final moments."
"What happened?" Megan asked.
"He's in his cabin, doing paperwork. A knock… it's the ship cook, bringing dinner. Papers again… then—pain! Neck pain! Can't breathe! The cook is… strangling him… and dark."
He released the body with a shudder.
Megan immediately checked behind the ambassador's beard—there was a faint rope mark on his neck.
"Damn. He was strangled."
"But why?" the necromancer asked.
"Where was his cabin located?" Megan asked a nearby agent.
The agent checked his tablet. "Aft section. Back of the ship."
"That's far from the explosion," Megan noted, her expression darkening.
"Someone wanted to make absolutely sure the Dwargonian ambassador died… and sank with the ship."
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