To The Limit

Four hours into the battle, one of the Polia Kingdom’s battleships—pounded repeatedly by enemy shells—finally went down in a massive explosion. A shell had pierced its armor and struck the ammunition storage, triggering a catastrophic blast. It was, in many ways, just terrible luck.

“The 8th Fleet flagship has been sunk!”

At the scream-like report, Admiral Nudelria could only grit his teeth. That battleship had been one of the few they could somewhat rely on. With its sinking, only the 9th Fleet’s flagship—his own—remained. That meant they would now inevitably become the primary target.

‘I wonder if he made it out alive.’

Thinking of the 8th Fleet Admiral with whom he had shared some acquaintance, Admiral Nudelria forced himself to refocus on the battle. If there was any consolation, it was that at least the enemy had taken considerable damage too.

Just a bit more, and we might be able to sink at least one of their battleships!

As he confirmed the sight of an Imperial battleship trailing black smoke and ablaze, he also saw shells slamming into its side. Turning his gaze and lifting his binoculars, he saw a cruiser continuously firing its guns.

That must be Prince Ian’s cruiser.

It was holding up better than expected and was managing to fight the Imperial ships effectively. It was quite the performance. He wondered if Commander Derian Zeco, serving as Ian’s first officer, had always been that capable in combat. Just as he had the thought, a voice rang out urgently beside him.

“Enemy torpedoes are heading toward one of our ships!”

He quickly turned his eyes back to the sea and spotted long white trails foaming across the water—torpedoes. They weren’t especially fast, but a hit would deal catastrophic damage. They had to be avoided at all costs.

“Order the Ruda to evade, now!”

“They’re already maneuvering to evade!”

As reported, the ship began shifting course to avoid the incoming torpedoes. Nudelria’s fists clenched instinctively. A single hit could lead to the cruiser’s sinking. But just then, several torpedoes veered off in the wrong direction, missing their mark.

The torpedoes that had been locked on to the cruiser suddenly veered away. The Ruda gracefully slipped past the attack radius. Admiral Nudelria felt his tension ease. At least his youngest daughter’s fiancé wasn’t going to die just yet.

‘It pains me that I can’t pull him back from the front line right now.’

He wanted nothing more than to order the prince—his daughter’s betrothed—off the battlefield. But the current situation was so desperate that even a little help was needed. BOOM-BOOM! The 250mm twin guns of the battleship kept firing. Some of the shells found their mark on the burning Imperial ship.

“A direct hit! But it’s still operational!”

“Hmph. Their defenses are formidable.”

With much greater tonnage and thick armor, the Imperial ship was enduring the bombardment and continuing to return fire with the few remaining functional guns. Meanwhile, other Imperial battleships began focusing their bombardment on the flagship.

The ship twisted its heading back and forth to narrowly dodge incoming fire, but it was impossible to avoid everything. Eventually, they were hit.

BOOM! BOOM-BOOM!

A series of loud explosions rocked the ship. A chill ran down Nudelria’s spine.

“One of the rear turrets has been hit! It’s now inoperable!”

Damn it! Losing a major turret felt like losing an arm. Their firepower had been significantly reduced. But rather than despair, he focused on containing the damage.

“Extinguish all fires! If there’s ammunition nearby, move it immediately! If there’s a secondary explosion, we’re finished! Move quickly!”

Following Admiral Nudelria’s orders, the crew rushed into action. Seawater was pumped manually to put out fires, and shells were relocated away from danger zones. All the while, enemy fire continued, the sea erupting in plumes of water all around them.

“Ah!? Another hit!”

This time, the hit came from the Ruda, where Prince Ian was stationed. Then, by sheer luck, one of the Imperial battleships exploded in a massive blast and began to sink. It was an unbelievable sight. They had finally sunk an enemy battleship.

“Enemy battleship has been sunk!”

“Woooooo!”

Cheers erupted. Sinking a battleship was a massive success and a devastating blow to the enemy. But instead of celebrating, Admiral Nudelria groaned softly. He understood what this meant.

‘Perhaps the only reason the prince’s ship hadn’t been hit so far was because they saw the royal banner and deliberately held back. But now that they’ve sunk one of their battleships, they’ll target him with everything they’ve got.’

Just as he feared, Imperial battleships and cruisers began concentrating their fire on Prince Ian’s cruiser. As shells rained down, the Ruda executed evasive maneuvers and returned fire. Yet somehow, even with so many shells incoming, it continued to avoid being hit.

“They’re focusing on the Ruda! Make sure they don’t forget about us!”

Admiral Nudelria’s command rang out as allied ships opened fire to distract the enemy. Their shots struck at the hulls of the Imperial ships, drawing some of the fire away from the Ruda. Eventually, the embattled cruiser was able to turn and pull back.

‘Thank goodness. But seriously, what are those two even doing!?’

His anger was aimed at the two armored cruisers of the 8th Fleet, which had yet to properly enter the battle. They remained in the rear, firing little, contributing nothing.

‘The other two princes clearly aren’t cooperating. If only they would engage, we might still turn this around…’

With the 8th Fleet flagship lost, no one could rein them in anymore. Their absence in the battle stood in stark contrast to Prince Ian’s brave leadership. Admiral Nudelria began to feel that prolonging the fight was no longer sustainable.

‘We’ve lost too many ships.’

Even though they had sunk an enemy battleship and several cruisers, the number of Polian battleships, cruisers, and destroyers lost was far greater. With dwindling strength, time only worsened their position.

‘Should we retreat…?’

Ultimately, only Admiral Nudelria could give that order now. The thought weighed heavily on him—it felt like he was about to shoulder the disgrace of another defeat. Despite the major accomplishment of sinking a battleship, others would surely disregard that and scorn him.

‘But I can’t afford to lose more ships. If we preserve what’s left, we may still have a future.’

“We will retreat from this point onward.”

“Admiral…”

“No more lives should be lost.”

Even now, a destroyer that had been operating at a distance was struck by a barrage of shells and exploded, sinking into the sea. Of the once numerous destroyers, only about twenty remained in fighting condition. Even among cruisers, only three were still intact.

‘Only the cruisers carrying the princes remain… what an ironic situation.’

Admiral Nudelria couldn’t help but laugh bitterly at the cruel fact that the true soldiers had died, while those who were not had survived. The order to retreat was given, and the ships of the Kingdom of Polia, which had been firing while maneuvering around the vast sea, began to turn and withdraw.

Retreating, however, was not easy. Due to differences in speed, they had to continue fending off pursuit and incoming fire. A few more ships were sacrificed before the Deutzen Empire’s fleet also began to withdraw.

In truth, the enemy was also running low on shells, making continued pursuit difficult. And so, the Polian fleet finally managed to retreat, though it had lost more than half its original number.

What stood out most in this scene were the cruisers carrying the princes, returning without a scratch. Of course, there was a clear difference between them. Prince Ian’s cruiser had been at the front of the naval battle, while the cruisers of the 7th and 8th Princes had remained in the rear.

Worse yet, over ten destroyers had been sacrificed just to protect those two princes’ cruisers. Even during the retreat, some destroyers had blocked enemy fire to shield the royal cruisers and were lost as a result.

It was unlikely the navy’s personnel viewed those princes kindly. But even so, nothing would change. They were royalty, and unless the king himself acted, no one had the right to punish them.

“Whew…”

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. I just want to rest.”

Prince Ian said this to his aide, Lieutenant Mardin Gaso. But as he tried to move, his body wobbled. Alarmed, Mardin quickly caught his arm and supported him. Concern was written all over his face.

“Are you sure you’re alright? I’ll summon the medic right away.”

“No need. I’m just exhausted. Don’t make a fuss over it.”

“Captain, please return to your quarters and rest.”

“Will that be alright?”

When he asked this to First Officer Derian Zeco, the latter nodded and spoke reassuringly.

“The enemy has already retreated, and there’s no chance of another engagement. I’ll manage things here, so don’t worry and get some rest.”

“Very well. I’ll relieve you after I’ve had some rest.”

Unable to reject their concern any longer, Ian allowed Mardin to escort him out of the bridge. Those remaining inside the bridge watched him go with worried expressions. Their view of the prince had clearly changed. Though he had supposedly done “nothing,” he had remained on the bridge until the very end. That alone was no small feat.

“It seems the Captain is unwell.”

“Perhaps it was nerves. It was his first battle, after all.”

“Indeed. Staying at his post until the battle ended must have taken great courage.”

Derian thought it was commendable that Ian hadn’t passed out. He knew from experience that maintaining composure in real combat was difficult. He found himself increasingly pleased with the prince.

‘It’s fortunate to have someone like him.’

While the First Officer thought this, Ian, now escorted to the captain’s quarters, collapsed into bed. His body was limp, and his head was throbbing. He had pushed his powers to their limit.

He couldn’t help but think: if he hadn’t used his psychokinesis to deflect those shells, his ship would have been sunk long ago. That made him feel slightly bitter. No one knew what he had done.

‘Not that I did it to be acknowledged… I did it to survive, so maybe I shouldn’t feel too bitter.’

His head pounding, Ian wanted only to sleep and forget the pain. As he began to snore and drift off, the damaged cruiser set sail toward the colony’s largest city, Beiru, alongside other battered ships.

It would take three full days to arrive. Many ships were damaged and slow, and they had to assist stragglers. Fortunately, the enemy did not pursue.

Occasionally, reconnaissance vessels could be spotted, but the fleet safely reached the naval base. The people of the Kingdom of Polia were horrified when they saw the returning colonial fleet. Many covered their mouths in shock at the sight of the ravaged ships, realizing that their city might soon face the same fate.

These scenes were captured by journalists stationed in the city, their cameras documenting the condition of the fleet. Most likely, newspapers back home would publish headlines declaring it a “devastating defeat for the colonial fleet.” With the mainland fleet already destroyed, panic would surely spread, convincing the nation that a full invasion was imminent.

Amid this, the few shipyards in the colony began repairs on the damaged vessels. However, ships the size of battleships or cruisers could not be properly repaired here. For full restoration, they would need to be transported to major dockyards back on the mainland.

Fortunately, none of the cruisers had sustained major damage. Only the battleship had been devastated. Since it still needed to be used, the navy resorted to makeshift repairs, welding iron plates onto the hull as a stopgap.

During this time, no one knew when the Deutzen Empire’s colonial fleet might return, so all ships remained on high alert, conducting patrols and keeping watch.