Trenches, Guns, and Magic

Lieutenant Colonel Fred knew exactly what his decision meant at this moment.

The Imperial Air Force only deployed four armored airships in the Mediterranean theater, which was already the bare minimum to maintain maritime surveillance.

Not every airship could be in combat readiness at all times. Rotational maintenance, propeller group overhauls, magitech core and spell unit servicing—all required time.

Furthermore, the wars on the Eastern Front and the Balkan Peninsula had drawn away quite a few armored airships, and the new batch under construction had not yet been delivered. Therefore, the entire Imperial Air Force's armored airship fleet was at its most overstretched point.

If the L23 were damaged or even shot down during this close-in reconnaissance, the surveillance network over the Mediterranean would directly collapse in one corner.

But Lieutenant Colonel Fred was never a man to hesitate.

Before transferring to the Air Force, he was the captain of a Pillau-class light cruiser in the Imperial Navy. He had exchanged fire with the Britannian Royal Navy in the North Sea and harbored a bone-deep wariness toward this opponent.

He understood those people too well.

Even standing on the opposing side, Lieutenant Colonel Fred had to admit—at least up to now, the Royal Navy of the Holy Britannia Empire was undoubtedly the most powerful maritime force on this planet...

And they were deadly cunning.

So, when his intuition told him "something is fishy here," this experienced captain chose to trust his gut.

The L23 armored airship lowered its altitude. Its eight sets of propellers ran at full speed, emitting a roar that drowned out the sea breeze and echoed across the waters.

The over two-hundred-meter-long hull pressed down from high altitude in a combat posture, its massive shadow dragging a moving dark zone across the afternoon Mediterranean surface.

On the sea below, the lookouts of various merchant ships sailing normally were the first to notice the anomaly.

On a freighter flying the Austro-Hungarian merchant flag, the lookout practically scrambled down from the crow's nest, bursting into the bridge and shouting to the captain.

The captains of various nations reacted with surprising unanimity upon being notified. Without hesitation, they ordered course adjustments to accelerate away from this sea area.

And after doing so, they performed a second action with equally surprising unanimity—

They grabbed their binoculars and stepped outside the bridge, ready to see exactly what this Saxon Empire war beast was planning to do.

Why else would they say being a captain is a profession for the brave... Even in a situation where a firefight could erupt at any moment, they didn't forget to find a good spot to watch the show.

The L23 armored airship continued pushing toward Malta. As the distance closed, Lieutenant Colonel Fred's unease grew heavier.

Twenty-five kilometers... twenty kilometers... fifteen kilometers...

The outline of the breakwater at Malta Port was already clear in his binoculars. The cranes on the docks, the white tower of the lighthouse, and the ships moored at the berths were all clearly visible.

But not a single ship was moving.

No figures were running on the decks or docks, no black smoke plumed from smokestacks, even the lifting equipment on the docks stood quietly. The entire naval port was like stagnant water.

"This is fucking wrong!" Lieutenant Colonel Fred's voice echoed in the bridge.

When the most important main naval port of the Royal Navy in the Mediterranean detects an enemy armored airship approaching at full speed, what should its reaction be?

Sounding alarms, raising barrage balloons, ships with boilers on low heat beginning slow maneuvers, coastal defense batteries entering firing status... Or rather, any proper naval base should react like this.

But there was no movement within the Malta naval port. This silence was too deliberate.

Lieutenant Colonel Fred remained silent for a few seconds, then issued several brief orders.

"Raise mana shields to maximum intensity!"

"Helmsman, stand by for emergency evasion maneuvers!"

"All hands, brace for impact!"

After the executive officer, who arrived on the bridge after the general quarters alarm sounded, repeated the orders, Captain Madeleine transmitted them through the brass speaking tubes to all compartments of the airship.

Soon, Lieutenant Colonel Fred could feel a faint hum transmitting through the deck beneath his feet—the vibration of the magitech core and mana shield units activating at full power.

Thanks to the combat experience of the Imperial Air Force's armored airship fleet across various theaters, and driven by the Minister of the Imperial Air Force, the Imperial Diet approved funding to upgrade the magitech cores and shield units of active-duty armored airships.

Multiple armored airships, including the L23, completed the corresponding upgrade modifications taking advantage of port maintenance visits.

The intensity of the upgraded mana shields was significantly higher than before, but at best, this only allowed the airship to withstand a few more [Scorching Ray] hits, increasing the margin for error slightly.

If they were truly focus-fired, they would still blow up all the same.

As the horizontal projection distance closed to nearly ten kilometers, and the Chief Gunnery Officer had just reported entering optimal range for the main guns, before Lieutenant Colonel Fred could make arrangements, the needle on the magical detection equipment in the observation post below the airship—which had been jumping within normal ranges—suddenly swung violently to the right.

The face of the magitech technician in the observation post changed drastically, and he practically roared the information up the brass tube to the bridge.

"Magical fluctuations at Malta naval port rising extremely rapidly—!"

The moment the voice came through the brass tube, Lieutenant Colonel Fred's body reacted almost instinctively.

Without even thinking, he opened his mouth and yelled: "Hard port rudder!!!"

The helmsman's reaction was even a beat faster than the command popping out of Lieutenant Colonel Fred's mouth.

Veins bulging on his arms, he threw the helm violently to the left, putting his entire body weight into it.

The bow of the L23 armored airship began to yaw. Under the forces of inertia and turning, the massive hull emitted a cacophony of creaking metal structures.

The instant the L23 deviated from its original course, the space between heaven and earth flared bright.

A piercing white ray tinged with crimson shot out from the location of Malta Port. Its speed was so fast the naked eye couldn't track its trajectory; one could only see a perfectly straight streak of light erupting from the sea to the horizon.

The viewing window on the right side of the bridge was instantly illuminated by the blinding red light, and everyone on the bridge instinctively turned their heads away.

[Scorching Ray]

The spell, activated and amplified by a large anti-air magical device, shot straight from the port ten kilometers away, barely grazing past the starboard side of the L23 armored airship.

Although not a direct hit, the extremely high energy passing by still provoked ripples across the mana shield on the airship's surface.

The air on the bridge solidified for a full two seconds; everyone stopped breathing.

It wasn't until confirming the ray had disappeared into the horizon behind them that Captain Madeleine let out an extremely ungentlemanly expletive, his knees trembling slightly.

But Lieutenant Colonel Fred didn't give anyone time to catch their breath.

"Rudder amidships! Continue approach!"

The helmsman gritted his teeth and brought the rudder back to center. The L23 recalibrated its heading, continuing to press toward Malta Port.

Lieutenant Colonel Fred knew very well that the shot just now was merely an appetizer.

As the Holy Britannia Empire Royal Navy's primary naval port in the Mediterranean, it obviously wouldn't deploy just one large anti-air magical device.

Therefore, next, the L23 armored airship had to maintain evasive maneuvers while closing the distance.

When facing attacks like [Scorching Ray], it was entirely up to the captain's anticipation and the "divine helmsman's flashes of brilliance"...

However, for the large anti-air magical devices at Malta Port, this was also a game of wits.

Although the [Scorching Ray] fired by anti-air magical devices could arrive instantaneously, their massive components meant they couldn't agilely adjust their attack orientation, nor could they make micro-adjustments during the few seconds of firing.

So, the mages and magitech technicians operating these large anti-air magical devices also had to anticipate the path of the armored airship.

It was just that this anticipation was relatively too simple and didn't require considering too many lead-time issues...

"Observation post reporting! Magical fluctuations climbing again—multiple sources!"

The voice of the magitech technician in the observation post was practically trembling.

Multiple sources...

It meant more than one anti-air magical device was charging simultaneously.

Lieutenant Colonel Fred gripped the railing in front of him tightly, hissing his order.

"Hard starboard rudder!"

Relying on astonishing arm strength, the helmsman once again threw the rudder he had just centered hard over. The L23's hull traced an arc in the air, the metal structures groaning under rigid torsion.

From a distance, it looked as if this over two-hundred-meter-long war beast was pulling a drift in mid-air.

A second crimson ray grazed almost flush against the armor plates on the airship's port side, once again provoking ripples across the mana shield.

"Dodged it—"

Before the words fully left Captain Madeleine's mouth, a third [Scorching Ray] arrived closely behind.

This shot was fired almost simultaneously with the second, aiming at the anticipated position of the L23 after evading the second shot.

Lieutenant Colonel Fred's pupils contracted sharply. Too late...

"All hands, brace for impact!!!"

The next second, the crimson heat ray struck the midsection of the L23 armored airship.

The entire airship shuddered violently.

The mana shield erupted in a blinding flash of light at the point of contact. The shockwave released by the magical reaction spread through the air, shattering the surrounding clouds.

The people on the bridge were nearly thrown into a pile.

Captain Madeleine smacked his head against the edge of the navigation console. Julian was thrown against the bulkhead, his nautical charts scattering across the floor.

Lieutenant Colonel Fred barely maintained his footing by gripping the railing.

"Damage control report!"

"Outer armor at midsection overheating! Mana shield output dropped by 12 percent... However, shield integrity remains normal."

Lieutenant Colonel Fred let out a long breath.

The upgraded shield held. If it had been the old shield unit from a few months ago, this single hit would have knocked off half the shield's defense threshold...

Lieutenant Colonel Fred righted himself, adjusted his skewed military cap, and then connected to the fire control room at the rear of the bridge.

"Chief Gunnery Officer, attention! All guns, open fire!"

The Chief Gunnery Officer, having awaited this order for a long time, immediately organized the firing. The 12 single-mount 150mm guns mounted on the L23 armored airship roared in continuous succession.

Twelve muzzles sequentially spat orange-red flames, causing the entire airship to stutter slightly in the air.

The 150mm shells followed parabolic trajectories, smashing toward the Malta naval port ten kilometers away.

The impact points of the first salvo were scattered around the breakwaters and dock areas on the periphery of the port, kicking up massive plumes of scree and water.

But just as Lieutenant Colonel Fred observed the impact effects through his binoculars, a shell from the second salvo sailed directly over the breakwater and landed among the densely packed silhouettes of ships inside the harbor.

And then, an inconceivable event occurred.

The explosion kicked up more than just water and shrapnel. Starting from the point of impact, the scene inside the port underwent a jaw-dropping change.

The outlines of the Royal Navy Mediterranean Fleet's "capital ships," which filled the port, began to blur. Like watercolors soaked in water, the colors and lines dripped downward.

First, the few "destroyers" at the edges became transparent, and then the effect spread toward the center of the port.

One "warship" after another faded, distorted, and finally dissipated into thin air before everyone's eyes.

It was as if a veil had been pulled back from the entire Malta naval port, exposing the true situation.

Only two obsolete pre-dreadnoughts, two light cruisers, and a few auxiliary vessels were left sparsely moored by the docks.

Those capital ships that had previously occupied more than half the port area were completely gone.

The bridge of the L23 armored airship plunged into sudden silence.

Immediately following, Captain Madeleine was the first to speak, his voice trembling as he spoke.

"Illusions... Those 'capital ships' were all illusions?"

"It must be some kind of illusion spell..."

Aviation Officer Julian, who clearly had some experience, said with a pale face.

"This is likely a large-scale visual illusion spell that even suppressed magical detection... But ordinary mages couldn't possibly achieve this level..."

Lieutenant Colonel Fred had no time to discuss the details. On the bridge, which was somewhat swaying due to continuous evasive maneuvers, he strode steadily to the row of brass speaking tubes at the back and yanked open the cover marked "Radio Cabin."

"Radio Cabin, this is the bridge! Immediately transmit to the maritime relay ship!"

"Main force of the Britannian Mediterranean Fleet has sailed in full force! Destination and intentions unknown... Only two pre-dreadnoughts and a few auxiliary vessels remain in Malta Port... Port was previously under large-scale illusion camouflage—I repeat, illusion camouflage!"

Inside the radio cabin, the communications officer received the order, repeated it for confirmation, and immediately led his men to work.

Lieutenant Colonel Fred paused for a second after roaring these words, then added another sentence.

"Have the communications relay ship send another message with the same content to the Papal State Mediterranean Fleet Command!"

Simultaneously, the garrison and remaining ships in Malta Port were clearly startled by the L23 armored airship's sudden rush.

No one expected that Saxon airship, which had been quietly loitering outside a safe distance, to suddenly charge straight in like it had gone mad.

The original contingency plan of the port defense command was to use a new type of [Mirage] generator—smuggled in disguised as ordinary cargo ships and secretly assembled in the port—for tactical deception until the main fleet completed its operation...

Before then, as long as the Saxon armored airships didn't approach actively, they would pretend everything was normal.

And according to the previous judgment of the Britannian Naval Intelligence Department, theoretically, the Saxons wouldn't use a single armored airship to assault the port. After all, quite a few large anti-air magical devices were deployed here, sufficient to pose a threat to Saxon armored airships...

But Lieutenant Colonel Fred didn't follow the script.

His sudden attack resulted in only the three large anti-air magical devices facing the airship's direction having time to open fire. The magical devices on the other side of the port were currently struggling to turn their heavy base structures to adjust their firing orientation.

"Send a telegram to the fleet: camouflage has failed. The enemy has ascertained the true situation within the port."

After the telegram was sent, the commander of Malta Port stood before the window, looking at the armored airship evading rays overhead, and let out a deep breath.

Why are these Saxons so hard to deal with...

Immediately following, he ordered the port into combat readiness, preparing to defend against potential attacks.

On the other side, after completing his notification, Lieutenant Colonel Fred did not linger to fight. He ordered the L23 to turn and disengage while keeping the shields running at full power.

During the disengagement, the fourth and fifth [Scorching Rays] from Malta Port chased after them. The fourth was dodged by a timely course change from the divine helmsman.

The fifth grazed the right side of the stern. Fortunately, the mana shield was still active and didn't damage the armored airship's structure.

When the L23 finally pulled away to a safe distance, Lieutenant Colonel Fred finally released the railing he had been gripping.

He looked down at his palm. Five crescent-shaped bloody indentations dug by his fingernails were clearly visible.

"Lieutenant Colonel..." Blood was still trickling down Captain Madeleine's forehead from where he hit the navigation console earlier.

"Where did the enemy fleet go?"

Lieutenant Colonel Fred walked to the chart table, staring at the map of the Mediterranean in silence for over a dozen seconds.

Then he extended his finger, starting from Malta's location, and drew a line westward.

The endpoint of that line was a port on the North African coast marked with the flag of the Gallic Navy.

Oran.

"L31 was artificially blocked, prevented from conducting reconnaissance at Oran Port..." Lieutenant Colonel Fred's finger stopped on Oran Port's location.

"The Gauls withdrew from the war, but their main fleet is still there."

"If the Britannians sailed in full force, and their target isn't us..."

He didn't continue, but everyone on the bridge finished the sentence in their minds.

A straight-line distance of one thousand three hundred kilometers away from Malta Port.

Oran Port.

This large military port located on the coast of Algeria in North Africa was the most important naval facility the Gallic Republic had constructed in its colonies after losing its domestic Mediterranean outlets.

After Gaul withdrew from the war, the Gallic Navy, refusing to hand over its capital ships to the Holy Britannia Empire, dispersed its fleet between the ports of Casablanca and Oran.

Moored in Oran Port at this moment was the most elite inventory of the Gallic Navy... three Courbet-class dreadnoughts, three Danton-class pre-dreadnoughts, and several auxiliary vessels.

Even though the performance of these warships lagged significantly behind those of the Britannian and Saxon warships, they remained the main force of the Gallic Navy and the capital for a future counteroffensive.

Since Gaul withdrew from the war, these warships had maintained a minimum state of combat readiness within the port.

Boilers held the minimum steam pressure, sailors' uniforms hung drying on the decks, and the officers and men aboard lived a life of half-rest, half-combat.

In their view, since the Republic withdrew from the war, the fierce fighting outside had nothing to do with them anymore.

Until fifteen minutes ago...

Sea fog rolled in from the southwest, which was uncommon in the Mediterranean in early June.

A Gallic destroyer, Tempête, patrolling the perimeter of Oran Port, was the first to notice the anomaly... A lookout spotted multiple blurry, massive figures in the sea fog.

The captain of Tempête had just used a signal lamp to send a warning to the port when the sea fog cleared.

To be accurate, it was torn open from the inside by warships.

When the lineup of the fleet revealed by the receding sea fog became visible, the brains of everyone on the Tempête destroyer briefly crashed.

Line of battle...

Six massive capital ships arranged in a column, maintaining a standard line of battle formation with a spacing of 1500 feet (457 meters).

The outline of the lead ship was clearly identifiable in the sunlight as the sea fog parted.

A forecastle hull design, a bow equipped with a ram, and the most eye-catching feature—four twin-mount gun turrets...

It was the Queen Elizabeth.

The Holy Britannia Empire Royal Navy's newest super-dreadnought. Equipped with eight 15-inch main guns, a speed of 25 knots, and capable of sprinting to 28 knots (in calm seas) for short periods by overcharging its magitech core...

This also led to a running joke within the Royal Navy: "If you're under 28 knots, get out of the Royal Navy~"

Undoubtedly, this was currently the most powerful surface combat vessel on the planet.

Behind her, five equally massive dreadnoughts/pre-dreadnoughts were lined up in sequence.

Further away, the slender silhouettes of three Invincible-class battlecruisers were deploying on the flanks.

On the sea even further out, four protected cruisers, four light cruisers, and sixteen G-class destroyers of the Royal Navy's 5th Destroyer Flotilla were scattered in screening positions, forming an impenetrable blockade line.

This was the entire main force of the Britannian Mediterranean Fleet.

Utilizing the [Mirage] generator at Malta Port, and the tactical deception of an accompanying high-circle mage using [Control Weather].

Relying on a power source completely different from the navies of other nations—pure magitech cores that were quiet, noiseless, and smokeless—this fleet had silently descended upon Oran Port.

After confirming the identity of the enemy flagship, the captain of Tempête made the wisest decision of his career—full speed retreat, without offering any resistance.

This was not cowardice, but clarity.

For a 350-ton destroyer to intercept a 30,000-ton super-dreadnought isn't called bravery; it's called seeking death.

As Tempête retreated rapidly, the coastal defense observation post at Oran Port also issued the highest level alarm.

The entire port erupted instantly.

Officers on duty rushed out of command rooms, sailors in the port tumbled from hammocks, and combat alarms blared continuously across all ships.

But getting dreadnoughts at minimum combat readiness to weigh anchor and leave port in a short time was pure fantasy.

While the Gauls were in a frenzy, the signal lamp on the Queen Elizabeth lit up.

Soon, the Gallic Navy at the port decoded this ultimatum sent via light signals: "The Gallic fleet must surrender immediately and accept Royal Navy control, or scuttle all ships yourselves. Failure to reply within five minutes will be considered a refusal."

Vice Admiral Émile Guépratte, the supreme commander of the Gallic Navy stationed at Oran Port, was awakened from his nap by a staff officer while still barefoot.

After reading the contents of the ultimatum, he first cursed, and then spent three minutes doing two things.

First, he ordered the port communications station to send an urgent telegram to Bordeaux.

Second, he replied to the Britannians: The Gallic Navy will never accept such humiliating terms!

The five minutes passed quickly. Under the nervous watch of everyone in Oran Port, the Britannians opened fire without hesitation.

As the flagship of the Mediterranean Fleet, the Queen Elizabeth's four 15-inch main guns in its forward 'A' and 'B' turrets fired simultaneously.

The fireballs erupting from the muzzles appeared orange-yellow in the dissipating sea fog, and the shockwave blasted a ring of white ripples on the sea surface ahead of the bow.

The 381mm caliber armor-piercing shells left the muzzles at an elevation angle of less than three degrees, tracing an almost flat trajectory over a distance of four nautical miles.

Against stationary targets, shooting at this range was even simpler than everyday gunnery practice.

In the first four-gun salvo, two shells landed about forty meters off the port side of the Gallic Navy flagship Courbet, kicking up two towering pillars of water.

Near misses. That was already very close.

The gunnery officer of the Queen Elizabeth corrected the firing data based on the observation of the impacts.

Immediately following, this "Special Task Force" consisting of six battleships and three battlecruisers began pouring firepower according to their assigned target lists.

The water surface of Oran Port turned into hell.

The roars of large-caliber main guns and secondary batteries mixed together, converging into a sonic wave that made one tremble from within.

The seawater in the port was churned into white foam by the water pillars kicked up by explosions and near misses. The buildings onshore collapsed in swathes under the bombardment.

The Gauls did not fail to fight back.

Some turrets on the Courbet and her sister ship Jean Bart nearby completed loading under the organization of duty officers. Their 305mm main guns returned fire toward the Britannian battle line outside the port.

But the boilers operating at minimum capacity meant they couldn't weigh anchor quickly. And being unable to weigh anchor meant they could only sit there and take the beating.

As for the fate of a stationary target taking a beating before the main guns of a dreadnought—ever since the day the Dreadnought was born, navies all over the world already had the answer.

Five salvos within ten minutes.

The sea was almost entirely calm, visibility was excellent, and firing conditions approached the ideal values in gunnery manuals.

Consequently, the shooting effects approached theoretical limits...

A 15-inch armor-piercing shell fired by the Queen Elizabeth in her fourth salvo struck the armor belt on the left side of the barbette of Courbet's aft No. 5 turret.

The 870-kilogram projectile didn't explode inside the turret. It penetrated the barbette armor and continued drilling downward, tearing through the internal splinter bulkheads, and plunged headlong into the shell handling room.

In the handling room, four 305mm shells hoisted from the magazine were resting quietly on the ready racks. Beside them, twenty propellant charges were arranged neatly, waiting to enter the hoist rails.

And the delayed fuse of the intruding 15-inch armor-piercing shell detonated at this exact moment.

The explosion detonated all four shells and an entire set of propellant charges. The fireball from the sympathetic detonation spewed from the magazine vents, instantly engulfing the entire deck level of the aft turret.

The shockwave generated by the sympathetic detonation traveled down the ammunition hoist shaft, tearing through the fireproof flash doors between the magazine and the handling room, directly igniting the remaining propellant charges and armor-piercing shell reserves in the magazine.

The hull of the Courbet shuddered violently. Then, everyone on the bridge watched as the aft mast and No. 5 turret were peeled off the hull and blown away. The entire aft section of the ship broke in two at the waterline.

Searing blasts of air carrying debris and burning propellant remnants erupted from the break in the hull, reaching a height surpassing the top of the foremast.

Immediately following, the broken aft section of the Courbet began sinking at a speed visible to the naked eye. The propellers and rudder lifted out of the water, still rotating slowly under momentum.

And the forward section, having lost the counterweight of the aft section, pitched up violently at the bow, exposing the thick red anti-rust paint below the waterline and dense clusters of barnacles.

The Gallic sailors in Oran Port watched helplessly as their flagship folded into two pieces before their eyes. Countless figures began jumping into the sea from the decks.