The Northern sea base hummed like a sleeping beast beneath the night sky. Black waves broke against the iron harbor, faintly illuminated by the violet shimmer of mana reactors buried beneath the decks. Every worker moved in silence, every bootstep muffled by the tension that hung like a veil. The air smelled of oil, salt, and a quiet dread that had settled since Ravenwood Fortress fell into ruin.

On the central dock stood Noah. His gloves were slick with machine grease, his hair disheveled from hours of last-minute preparation. Before him rose the fleet — ten airships plated in obsidian armor, their hulls carved with runes that bent light itself. They seemed less like ships and more like shadows torn from the night. The Shadow Fleet.

"This will work," Ren said beside him, eyes reflecting the black sheen of the airships. "Mana radar won't detect them. You'll get in, plant the detonators, and vanish before Central even realizes."

Noah didn't reply. His gaze was fixed on the horizon — the south, where the Central Supply Alliance's ports lined the coasts like sleeping serpents, hiding the engines of war that fed their endless legions.

May adjusted her goggles, standing a few paces away. She wore her dark sharpshooter coat, the one marked with soot and ash from Ravenwood. Her fingers brushed the scope of her rifle, and for a moment, she looked toward Noah with quiet resolve. "Once we're in," she murmured, "I'll give the signal."

He nodded. "No hesitation. Burn their depots. End their supply."

Then, as the engines of the Shadow Fleet roared to life, Noah raised his hand.

The sea churned. The night trembled.

And the fleet ascended into the clouds like ghosts.

---

Hours later, the air reeked of ozone and smoke.

The Shadow Fleet cut through the upper winds, invisible under the cover of anti-radar enchantments. From above, the Central ports glowed faintly with the golden light of their mana furnaces — perfect targets.

In the lead airship, May crouched near the window, her rifle propped against the steel ledge. Through the scope, she counted soldiers pacing along the dock. Most of them were unarmored — engineers, loaders, mages maintaining the mana lines. Innocent, perhaps. Necessary, definitely.

Ren's voice crackled through the communicator. "Fleet Command to all units — prepare for descent. Five minutes to strike zone."

Noah's silhouette stood near the main deck's window, his hand gripping the reinforced glass. His reflection looked strange — his face illuminated only by the flicker of warning lights.

He breathed out, low and steady. "This is for Ravenwood," he whispered.

The fleet dropped altitude.

Runes flared across the ships' hulls, dampening the wind resistance.

Below, Central's coastline expanded like a painting of gold and crimson — port towers, anchored ships, mana silos rising like metallic pillars.

"Release sequence," May said softly, aligning her scope with a depot marked 'Port Seventy-Nine.'

The artillery pods beneath the Shadow Fleet opened like blooming flowers, revealing their deadly payloads — silent bombs inscribed with untraceable sigils.

"Fire."

The sky split apart.

The silence of night turned into thunder.

Explosions rippled across the coastline. Mana conduits ruptured; fire spilled into the sea like molten glass. The light was blinding — a chain of suns erupting one after another. Central's guards screamed below, their shouts drowned beneath collapsing towers.

For a moment, the Northern soldiers aboard the fleet cheered. Their first victory in weeks.

And then the comms went silent.

May frowned. "Command? Command, do you read?"

Static answered.

Ren's voice crackled, distorted — "…Noah… it's a trap—"

The horizon flashed.

From the burning coastline, pillars of flame erupted upward, forming a massive barrier of heat and light. The airships' runes flickered as counter-magic struck them from below. Central's ports were decoys — abandoned fuel tanks lined with volatile explosives, disguised as supply silos.

Noah realized too late. "Evasive—!"

The lead ship's hull exploded from beneath. The deck tilted violently, hurling soldiers into the air. Screams filled the corridors. May slammed against the railing, her scope shattered, smoke filling her lungs. The air outside glowed crimson — like the gates of hell yawning open.

"Noah!" she shouted through the chaos, trying to find him in the haze.

But the fire was everywhere.

Airships burst into flame midair, their black plating melting into molten rain. Crewmen leapt into the sea, only to be consumed by the inferno below.

The Shadow Fleet, the North's greatest hope, was burning alive in silence.

---

From the remaining ship still barely aloft, May knelt before the viewing glass. Her scope was cracked, her hands shaking. She saw them — her own soldiers — silhouettes falling from the sky, swallowed by the blaze.

Each one she'd trained with. Each one she'd called by name.

Her voice trembled. "This can't be happening…"

Through the communicator came Noah's voice, rough and distant through static. "May. Get them out."

Tears blurred her vision. "There's no one left to save."

Noah was silent for a long moment. Then, quietly, he said, "Fall back to sea level. Abandon ship if you have to. This mission's over."

The deck trembled as another explosion shook the sky.

May reached for the manual release lever. Her hands hesitated, trembling above the metal. She wanted to scream — to curse the heavens, to cry out for the lives burned below. But her throat was dry. No words came.

She could only watch.

Through her cracked scope, through the dying firelight — she saw her fleet vanish. One by one, the black shapes were consumed by orange blossoms of fire, like candles being snuffed out in reverse.

And as the last one fell, May felt something inside her collapse too.

She sank to her knees, her rifle slipping from her grasp.

Outside, the wind howled through the ruins of their ambition.

"Noah…" she whispered. "They're gone."

Static answered her once more.

The ship tilted violently — the engines were failing. May grabbed a harness and forced herself toward the emergency hatch. Smoke bit at her lungs. Her coat burned at the edges.

The ocean rose to meet her as she jumped.

Cold, black, merciless.

When she surfaced moments later, the night sky was burning.

Above her, the entire Shadow Fleet was gone, reduced to ash.

May wiped the saltwater and tears from her face.