First Fleet Battle Experience

The view through the bridge window was strikingly clear.

“The weather’s nice again today.”

“It really is. Absolutely blue and cloudless.”

Hearing Lieutenant Mardin Gaso agree with his comment, Ian couldn’t help but think: Even the sky seems to be helping the Empire. For the past few days, the weather had been consistently fair.

At the moment, Ian was aboard the armored cruiser Ruda, a Ramit-class vessel that he had been assigned to command.

He could see ships spewing black smoke as they moved forward on all sides. While monitoring Imperial activity, they had received intelligence that the Doicheun Empire’s colonial fleet was advancing toward them. Now they were heading out to intercept.

“It would’ve been better to fight under the support of coastal artillery…”

But perhaps pride wouldn’t allow it. Whatever the justification, the bridge of the aging vessel bore the weight of time, and Ian couldn’t help but tense at the realization that a real naval battle was imminent.

“We’ll probably lose, won’t we?”

Hoping otherwise might be nice, but the disparity was obvious. Reports said the Doicheun fleet had four battleships. Though Polia had two, the difference in gun caliber, range, and tonnage was substantial.

“It’d be one thing if we were faster—but they’re both bigger and faster.”

It truly felt like they were heading into an unwinnable battle. While Polia’s fleet had more destroyers—about fifteen more—that advantage was canceled out by their inferior specs.

“It’s not like I have any revolutionary tactics… and Earth knowledge doesn’t help here at all.”

“Are you nervous?”

First Officer Derian Zeko asked the prince.

Ian nodded slightly. He wanted to show strength as a captain, but he couldn’t deny to himself that he was nervous. Everyone on the bridge likely sensed it, and he didn’t want to lie.

“I’m nervous, yes—but I’m not afraid.”

“That’s a relief, then.”

“What’s so relieving about that?”

“Because I was terrified in my first battle.”

“You were?”

Ian was surprised to hear Derian admit to fear. Derian nodded and recalled his first assignment aboard a destroyer and how things had gone then.

“I was on reconnaissance when we ran into a ship from a rival nation. Things escalated fast, and I completely froze. Couldn’t do a thing.”

Given that Derian was alive, they must have won that engagement. Hearing this, Ian felt the officer was trying to ease his nerves—something that hinted at how much Derian had changed since their first meeting. Maybe the shift in his attitude reflected a deeper change.

“Good. I’m glad he turned out to be a solid man.”

If Derian had continued resisting Ian’s authority, Ian might’ve had to use his psychic powers on him. Derian, of course, had no idea.

As their conversation continued, the fleets of both nations steadily approached a face-off.

In less than two days, the two colonial fleets came into direct contact. The battle was about to begin.

Even though the main Polian fleet had lost, and this skirmish might not affect the war’s outcome, the colonial fleet of the Polia Kingdom was determined to fight. They were soldiers—retreating wasn’t in their nature with the enemy in sight.

“Half speed ahead! Load all main guns! Prepare torpedoes!”

Derian Zeko’s sharp commands sent the bridge into action. Though Ian stood at the captain’s position, he had already delegated full command authority to Derian—aware that he couldn’t do anything meaningful in this situation.

As the crew executed their orders, Ian picked up his binoculars and began scanning the horizon.

The ships were spreading out, forming battle lines. In the distance, black smoke rose into the sky.

“That must be the Doicheun Empire’s colonial fleet…”

He took a moment to assess his psychic condition. The sensation was good; he felt ready to activate his power at any time.

He had spent time considering how to make his abilities useful in battle.

“Direct telekinetic attacks are out. These ships are too large and solid.”

Ships, weighing thousands—if not tens of thousands—of tons, were too heavy to break or move directly. But indirect support? That could cause significant damage with relatively little effort.

“Message from the flagship! They’ve ordered us to reduce speed!”

“Slow ahead!”

As Derian relayed the message, Ian realized Count Nudelria must’ve ordered the Ruda to the rear for safety. Ian turned to Derian.

“If our ship pulls back, will that create a major gap in our firepower?”

“Yes, sir. In the 9th Fleet, aside from the battleships, our cruiser has the strongest firepower. We’d leave a noticeable gap.”

“Then send a reply to the flagship. Tell them this ship will fight. And ask them not to label me a coward.”

“You’re serious?”

“I am. Didn’t I already say I may be nervous, but I’m not afraid? Or are you afraid, First Officer?”

Derian Zeko shook his head. Of course he wasn’t afraid. In fact, the order to retreat had bruised his pride—he didn’t want to be a bystander in this battle.

“Not at all, sir. I’ll deliver the message immediately.”

Framing it as “the captain’s will” gave the flagship room to accept without formally defying orders. Technically, Ian was a prince—this was a selfish move—but it was clearly one that helped the fleet.

“Good news: the flagship has accepted your request.”

The order to retreat had been rescinded. Normally, that wouldn’t have happened—but being a prince had its advantages. Most on the bridge looked at Ian with newfound respect.

“Ah! Two armored cruisers from the 8th Fleet are retreating to the rear!”

At that sudden report, everyone could clearly feel that Prince Ian was very different from the other princes. Even worse, in a battle they already had little chance of winning, the withdrawal of two armored cruisers only deepened their anxiety.

Could they even fight properly like this? With unease building, the colonial fleets of both nations inevitably came face-to-face. Spread across the vast ocean, the warships, their guns fully loaded, began rotating their turrets in preparation for battle.

Gulp—someone swallowed hard. Everyone on the bridge was tense. In this atmosphere, the colonial fleets of both nations finally engaged in battle. The first to open fire was an enemy battleship from the Empire.

With flames and thick smoke erupting, shells came crashing into the sea. None hit with the opening salvo, but it became clear: the enemy’s guns had a much longer range. Tension rose further with that realization.

“Advance! Keep advancing! We can’t fire back until we’re in range!”

Led by the Monglia-class battleship flagship, cruisers and destroyers surged forward toward the Empire’s colonial fleet. They had no choice but to close the distance.

At that moment, a shell splashed dangerously close alongside the flagship’s hull. The bridge of Ian’s ship exhaled in relief. But more important than what hit was what might hit—especially what was coming their way.

It’s coming.

Ian had opened his senses to the maximum. He had spread his psychic perception far wider than usual and could faintly detect something incoming, rapidly approaching the ship.

‘Am I really destined to get hit by the first shot?’

Perhaps it was because he had wavered for even a moment. He immediately unleashed a strong wave of telekinesis. Zzzzzap—some of the incoming shells shifted direction mid-air. They splashed into the sea just ahead of the ship, throwing up large sprays of water.

“Shells landed directly ahead of our ship!”

“Turn to heading 1 o’clock! Then reverse to heading 10 o’clock!”

Once the impact point was known, the next round would be targeted there. So evasive maneuvers had to be immediate. Following the first officer’s orders, the ship veered sharply toward 1 o’clock, then quickly rolled back to 10 o’clock.

Shells soon rained down again nearby, pounding the sea. The evasive maneuvers had worked.

‘Aside from that first wave, we’ve avoided all hits so far—that’s a relief.’

Redirecting the initial volley with his powers had worked well. He wasn’t stopping the shells, just subtly shifting their trajectory, which cost far less mental energy. But the battle had only just begun—he’d need to keep doing this from now on.

“We’re in range!”

“Turn to heading 11 o’clock! Aim all main guns at the enemy ship at 2 o’clock!”

Following the first officer’s command, the ship turned. On deck, the 200mm twin-mounted main gun began to rotate diagonally. The identical rear turret was likely doing the same. Once aligned, the order to fire rang out.

“Fire!”

“Firing!”

With a deafening BOOM-BOOM, the ship quaked as both twin turrets fired a total of four shells. Bright muzzle flashes and thick smoke followed. Ian watched as the shells arced toward the enemy.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t do anything about allied shells in flight.

If only my powers were stronger, I could guarantee a hit. What a shame.

As he watched the shells splash harmlessly into the sea, Ian realized again how difficult it was to hit a moving ship on water.

Meanwhile, the ships of both nations hurled countless shells at each other. With the volume of fire increasing, hits became more common.

At one point, a shell struck the flagship. But its thick armor absorbed most of the impact, and it continued functioning without issue. Then finally—Ruda scored its first hit.

“Direct hit!”

“Nice shot!”

“We hit them!”

Everyone cheered. It was their first successful strike. But the target was a cruiser, and even after being hit, it continued firing smoothly. It was clear: you couldn’t sink a hardened warship with just a few hits. The limitations of their 200mm guns were obvious.

So this was why everyone wanted bigger guns…

Ian found himself frustrated with Ruda’s weaponry. Not only did it lack one turret compared to other ships, its overall firepower was significantly lower. Better than a destroyer, sure, but far weaker than most cruisers in its class.

This wasn’t going to be easy.

The overall tide of battle was turning against them. Polian destroyers were sinking one after another, while enemy losses remained low. And shells kept raining toward Ian’s ship.

Zzzzzap—

Using telekinesis, Ian continued to subtly deflect incoming shells. So far, not a single enemy shell had landed on his ship. Someone might grow suspicious eventually, but without knowledge of psychic powers, no one would understand what was happening.

Survival was the priority.

With that resolve, the chaos of the fleet battle only intensified further.