Chapter 38: 70 Hours War Part 5
The control room of the Supercarrier Nanjing was thick with tension, a pulse of nerves and adrenaline crackling through the air as every officer's eyes flicked between their stations and the vast tactical display at the heart of the room. The soft light of the rising sun bathed the horizon in hues of pink and gold, casting a serene glow over the sea. The contrast between the beauty of dawn and the chaos of battle was stark, almost surreal. Yet, it wasn't the calm of the morning that troubled the crew—it was the towering shapes on the horizon, Milishial's fleet, their colossal forms bathed in an eerie, shimmering light.
Admiral Li Pengcheng stood immobile, a monument of focus amidst the swirling unease, his fingers resting lightly on the edge of the console before him. He watched the display, his gaze sharp as a hawk's, picking apart every detail of the enemy formation with clinical precision. There was a subtle tightness to his lips, a simmering frustration in his expression as his mind worked furiously to understand what he was seeing. The enemy ships—hulking behemoths, some of them nearly 350 meters long—were something out of myth. Giants among war machines, the likes of which no other navy in the world could boast.
Milishial's vessels radiated an aura that defied nature, their magic shields swirling with a faint, otherworldly glow. The shields shimmered like translucent veils over the vast, metallic forms of the ships, absorbing every missile and shell hurled at them. It wasn't just defense—it was an insult, a flagrant display of superiority that irked Li to his core. Milishial's ships were not just war machines; they were symbols, embodiments of the Empire's arrogance and their belief in their invincibility.
"They're just ramming through our fleet," Li muttered, his tone harsh, eyes narrowed as he studied the glowing forms on the horizon. He could see the tactic unfolding now, crude and unsophisticated, but no less devastating for its simplicity. The Milishial ships weren't holding back, weren't keeping distance as traditional naval doctrine might suggest. No, they were using their shields like battering rams, plowing directly into the Chinese defensive lines with reckless abandon.
Admiral Li had seen plenty of bizarre tactics throughout his career, but this... this was barbaric.
"Arrogant bastards," Li growled. "Do they think their magic makes them invincible?"
His second-in-command, Vice Admiral Lin Xiu, stood beside him, his brow furrowed with concern as he nodded grimly. He had been observing the same developments and shared the Admiral's frustration. "They're using those Titanium-Class heavy cruisers like battering rams. It's madness," he said, his voice low but steady. "The shields are shrugging off everything we throw at them. It's like trying to crack a diamond with a hammer."
Li glanced up from the display, his dark eyes meeting Lin's. "Madness or not, it's working." His voice was tight with an undercurrent of disbelief. He couldn't help but respect the sheer audacity of the enemy's tactic. They weren't playing by any known rules of naval engagement—at least, not rules he had ever studied.
The Titanium-Class heavy cruisers were formidable, each encased in layers of enchanted armor, the magic coursing through their hulls making them resistant not only to conventional explosives but also to many forms of energy weapons. These ships weren't built for agility or maneuverability like his own—no, they were lumbering fortresses. Yet, somehow, the enemy had found a way to turn this cumbersome strength into an offensive strategy.
As the Milishial cruisers charged forward, their shields absorbed hit after hit from the Chinese missiles, hardly registering the damage. And then, just when they were within range, the massive hulls would collide with his forward line, physically slamming into the smaller Chinese vessels, crushing them like insects beneath a boot.
A sharp jolt of understanding struck Li as he watched one of his destroyers buckle under the impact of a Titanium-Class cruiser, its hull snapping in two like a twig, vanishing beneath the waves in a matter of moments. These bastards weren't playing a game of firepower—they were weaponizing their very presence, turning their enormous size and impenetrable shields into the ultimate blunt-force instrument.
"How the hell do we fight that?" Lin muttered, shaking his head. "We don't have anything that can take that kind of punishment."
Li's lips pressed into a thin line, his mind racing. He couldn't deny the effectiveness of the tactic, as crude and brutish as it was. He had never faced an enemy who would use their ships like blunt battering rams, and the sheer shock value was working in their favor. His fleet wasn't designed to withstand such physical abuse—his doctrine emphasized precision strikes, stealth, and overwhelming firepower from a distance. But against these leviathans, none of that seemed to matter.
"This isn't just about magic," Lin said, his voice low and grim. "This is about size and mass. They're using physics. Magic's just the shield."
"And worse," Li added, "Rear Admiral Morvannis is no fool."
He could sense the strategy behind the madness, the cold calculation in what had at first appeared to be nothing but raw, reckless aggression. Kaelith Morvannis, commander of the Milishial fleet, wasn't a man to be underestimated. The Admiral had made a name for himself by mastering the intricate dance between magic and technology, a rare combination of arcane prowess and brutal pragmatism. He had no doubt Morvannis had orchestrated this strategy knowing full well the psychological impact it would have on the Chinese fleet.
"Morvannis is betting on fear," Li said quietly, watching another of his destroyers disappear beneath the ocean. "He wants us to see them as unstoppable, invincible."
Lin's eyes flicked toward him. "And If they really are invincible?"
For a moment, silence fell over the control room. The tension was palpable, the weight of the battle pressing down on everyone like a physical force. Admiral Li stared at the tactical display, watching as another wave of Milishial cruisers advanced, their shields glowing with an unnatural light as they barreled toward his forward line. He had endured enough. These arrogant, magic-wielding invaders thought themselves untouchable, their shields impenetrable, but Li knew better.
He had one last card to play.
"Enough of this game," he growled, his voice low and dangerous.
His command staff exchanged uncertain glances. They knew that tone—it was the sound of an Admiral who had reached his limit. Li spun around, locking eyes with his communications officer, who was already poised at his station, hands hovering over the console.
"Patch me through to the People's Liberation Army Rocket Force. We're bringing the dragon down from the sky."
The officer's fingers danced across the controls, and moments later, the familiar crackle of a secure military line hummed through the speakers.
"This is Base 65 of the Northern Theater Command. Go ahead, Admiral," came the cool, efficient voice of the launch commander.
Li's response was sharp, his tone betraying no hesitation. "I need full deployment of the DF-26 ballistic missiles. Authorization code: Alpha-Tango-Bravo-Seven-Nine. Target the Milishial fleet at the following coordinates."
The command hung in the air like a sword, every officer in the control room knowing exactly what this meant. Li was invoking a strike with China's most advanced anti-ship ballistic missile, the DF-26, known ominously as the "Guam Killer".
The DF-26 was more than just a missile—it was the ultimate weapon for naval warfare, a second-generation anti-ship ballistic missile capable of carrying both conventional and nuclear warheads. Designed to hunt down and destroy large, high-value naval targets, particularly aircraft carriers, the missile had earned its fearsome nickname for its ability to strike targets as far as 5,000 kilometers away, with pinpoint accuracy. The missile had been dubbed the "Guam Killer" or "Guam Express" for its capability to strike U.S. military bases in Guam, but now it was being unleashed on an even deadlier foe—the Milishial fleet.
Each DF-26 missile was equipped with the DF-ZF hypersonic glide vehicle, a technological marvel that could reach speeds of Mach 27 as it descended toward its target. What made the DF-ZF truly terrifying was its unpredictability—unlike conventional ballistic missiles, which followed a predictable trajectory, the DF-ZF was designed to zigzag and weave through the atmosphere, constantly changing its course and altitude. This chaotic flight pattern made it virtually invulnerable to interception, even by the most advanced missile defense systems or magical shields.
Far to the north, in the frozen expanse of Liaoning, the rumble of engines shook the earth beneath the snow-covered fields of Base 65. Deep within fortified bunkers, where the temperature dropped well below freezing, the missile crews moved with a quiet, disciplined urgency. The order had come, and now they were preparing to unleash one of the most destructive weapons in human history.
Rows of 38 DF-26 missiles were being prepared for launch, each standing tall in its silo, cold metal gleaming under the harsh artificial lights. Engineers and soldiers alike moved through final system checks, inputting the targeting coordinates Admiral Li had provided. In moments, the missiles would be launched into the night sky, their journey beginning with fire and fury.
"Coordinates locked," the launch commander reported, his voice steady despite the tension that hung over the bunker. "Firing sequence initiated."
With a final, solemn confirmation, the countdown began. And then, with a deafening roar, the DF-26 missiles exploded from their silos, tearing through the frozen night sky, leaving fiery trails of smoke and flame behind them. The earth trembled under the force of the launch, and for a moment, it seemed as though the very ground itself was protesting the sheer magnitude of the weapons unleashed.
On the bridge of the HMES Invictus Arcanum, Rear Admiral Kaelith Morvannis stood with a sense of superiority, his tall, imposing figure reflecting the confidence that radiated through the bridge. His dark military uniform shimmered faintly under the light of the magical displays, which cast a haunting glow across the room. Outside, the Milishial fleet pressed forward through the chaos of battle, with the Titanium-Class heavy cruisers—the Ferrum Imperator, Gladius Maximus, and Arcus Validus—leading the charge like ancient beasts of war, their magical shields shimmering as they effortlessly absorbed the brunt of Chinese missile and artillery fire.
"Admiral," called his second-in-command, Commander Laelia, her voice edged with pride as she stood at attention, glancing over the tactical readouts. Her sharp eyes met his, reflecting the same confidence that filled the bridge. "Their fleet is in disarray. We've crippled their forward formations. The Ferrum Imperator alone is absorbing more damage than any of their ships can dish out."
A cruel grin crept across Morvannis's face. The enemy, though numerous, seemed almost laughable in their efforts to breach Milishial's defenses. "These Chinese... they think they can match Milishial in warfare. Pathetic." He turned to look at the vast sea stretching before them, now filled with wreckage from the Chinese ships attempting to halt their advance.
Through the battle's haze, another barrage of Chinese missiles slammed into the magical shields of the Adamant-Class battleships, Ultor Infernus and Fortis Bellator. Their shields rippled with magical energy, deflecting the attacks as though brushing off a light breeze. Not even a scratch marred the gleaming hulls of these colossal warships. "They can't break through our defenses," Morvannis declared, a note of arrogance coloring his voice as he watched the fruitless assault.
Just as his confidence soared, a strange disturbance flickered across the magical displays on the bridge. The usually steady readouts wavered, and new alerts blared, sharp and sudden.
"Massive energy signatures detected!" shouted one of the magical analysts, his voice rising with alarm. His fingers flew across his console as he struggled to interpret the readings. "We have multiple inbound targets—high hypersonic speeds!"
Morvannis felt a jolt of disbelief. "What?" His voice cut through the rising tension like a blade. High hypersonic? That wasn't possible—not with their technology. His eyes narrowed as he stepped toward the displays.
Commander Laelia rushed to the navigation console, her normally calm demeanor breaking as she scanned the data. "Admiral, something's wrong. These aren't conventional missiles… they're faster—far faster than anything we've ever encountered!" Her voice faltered with a mix of awe and dread.
The realization struck Morvannis like a hammer blow. His heart pounded in his chest, the cold certainty of danger flooding his mind. These weren't just advanced missiles—they were something beyond. He gritted his teeth, a wave of anger swelling inside him. "Raise the shields to maximum! All hands, brace for impact!"
The DF-ZF hypersonic glide vehicle, moving at Mach 27, hurtled toward the Ferrum Imperator with terrifying precision. As it descended from the upper atmosphere, its velocity increased, its erratic zigzag trajectory a chaotic blur against the night sky. This was no ordinary missile. Unlike the standard ballistic threats Milishial's fleet was accustomed to intercepting, this vehicle was designed to defy conventional countermeasures, exploiting the limitations of even the most advanced arcane defenses.
As the DF-ZF made its final approach, its interaction with the atmosphere created a plasma sheath, a glowing envelope of ionized gas, which temporarily distorted any direct magical sensor locks on the missile. The analysts were left scrambling to track its exact trajectory. One last burst of arcane telemetry confirmed the inevitable: it was aimed directly at the Ferrum Imperator's midsection.
"Impact imminent!" the analyst's voice rang out, tinged with desperation.
The Ferrum Imperator's magical shields surged to full capacity, radiating with ethereal light. Arcane currents of protective energy swirled around the vessel like a pulsating cocoon, generating a barrier capable of withstanding conventional kinetic and energy-based assaults. For years, this shield had held fast against every missile, beam, or artillery round fired at it. But this time, the enemy was different. The DF-ZF, with a mass of 1120 kg and traveling at Mach 18, carried an unimaginable kinetic energy—a force over five times that of the Russian supersonic Kh-22 missile, which had Mach 4 speed and a 1,000 kg warhead, created catastrophic results.
Calculations flashed across the displays, showing that the DF-ZF's kinetic energy upon impact would surpass 21.4 billion joules. This was not a threat to be merely absorbed—it was a force to be reckoned with. As the hypersonic glide vehicle screamed toward its target, the energy exerted by its sheer velocity made it an unstoppable juggernaut. The Ferrum Imperator's shield buckled first, its arcane matrix shattering as it absorbed the initial impact. Sparks of magical energy, bright blue and white, crackled across the ship's hull as the shield fought a losing battle. The shockwave from the missile's approach alone was enough to send ripples across the ocean's surface, the air itself vibrating from the supersonic passage.
And then, the shield failed.
The DF-ZF pierced through the barrier with a thunderous crack, its hypersonic velocity continuing unchecked as it collided with the Ferrum Imperator's reinforced titanium-alloy armor. A flash of light erupted from the point of impact, brighter than the sun, as kinetic and explosive energy combined in a moment of sheer, devastating force. The 1120 kg reentry vehicle impacted with such velocity that the air around it seemed to ignite. The ship's armor, designed to withstand heavy artillery fire, might as well have been paper against this onslaught. The warhead, equipped with a specialized thermobaric explosive, detonated milliseconds after the initial penetration, its blast wave expanding outward in a series of concentric rings. The heat and pressure generated by the explosion were so intense that the very molecules of the ship's hull began to dissociate, vaporizing under the extreme thermal conditions.
Inside the ship, the damage was even more catastrophic. The ship's interior bulkheads, designed to compartmentalize and limit damage from internal breaches, were shredded instantly. The hypersonic impact carried enough force to turn the surrounding structure into shrapnel, slicing through decks and vital systems like a scythe through wheat. Critical systems, including the main reactor cooling apparatus, were annihilated in the initial blast, leaving the core vulnerable to meltdown.
Flames and debris erupted into the sky as secondary explosions rippled through the ship, each blast triggered by the cascading failure of the ship's power conduits and munitions stores. Aboard the Invictus Arcanum, the bridge crew watched in stunned silence as the Ferrum Imperator, once the vanguard of Milishial naval might, began to break apart in real time. The midsection of the ship—where the DF-ZF had struck—was now nothing more than a molten hole, glowing red-hot as internal fires raged unchecked.
Onboard the Nanjing, Admiral Li Pengcheng watched the chaos unfold with grim satisfaction, his tactical display illuminating the darkened bridge with each flickering explosion. The burning wreckage of the Ferrum Imperator was visible even from a distance, a fiery beacon marking the downfall of Milishial's pride. "One down," he muttered, the corners of his mouth twitching upward in a slight smirk. His eyes darted across the tactical map, assessing potential targets. The assault was far from over.
As if responding to his unspoken command, another DF-ZF missile screamed through the night sky, its path straight and true, locking onto the HMES Gladius Maximus, one of Milishial's most formidable heavy cruisers. Li's heart raced; this was the moment to prove the superiority of their technology. The Gladius Maximus braced for impact, its shields pulsating as they absorbed the incoming projectile's violent energy.
But the DF-ZF missile was unlike any weapon the Milishial fleet had ever faced.
The Gladius Maximus's shields flared intensely, glowing a brilliant blue as they fought against the impending strike. For a moment, it seemed as though the magical barriers might hold, but the pressure was simply too great. With a sudden, catastrophic crack, the shield shattered, splintering like glass under a hammer's blow. The missile tore through the now-broken defenses, striking the midsection of the cruiser with an earth-shattering impact.
The explosion was immense—a devastating fireball erupted outward, engulfing the Gladius Maximus in flames. Its once-mighty form was split in two, debris and fire cascading into the dark waters below. Secondary explosions rippled along the vessel's length as ammunition stores ignited, the heat and chaos consuming everything in their path. The ship that had once epitomized Milishial naval power was now a burning hulk, adrift among the flotsam of war.
Onboard the HMES Invictus Arcanum, Rear Admiral Kaelith Morvannis surveyed the devastation unfolding before him with a mounting sense of horror. The tide had shifted rapidly, and what had once been a dominant fleet—untouchable behind its formidable magical shields—was now being systematically decimated by a technology far beyond anything Milishial had encountered. "The smaller ships can't hold," Morvannis thought bitterly, a cold knot forming in his stomach. He had underestimated these Chinese, and the ramifications were proving catastrophic.
The Arcus Validus, one of his prized Titanium-Class heavy cruisers, was next in line to bear the brunt of the onslaught. The ship had weathered the initial barrage with a fierce resilience, but it could not withstand the relentless assault of the DF-ZF glide vehicles. As the hypersonic missiles zigzagged through the night sky, their unpredictable trajectories overwhelmed the Arcus Validus's defensive systems. The magical shield strained, flickered, and then, with a deafening crack, collapsed under the mounting pressure.
In that split second, as if in slow motion, Morvannis watched the missile strike the cruiser, piercing the hull with devastating force. The ensuing explosions ripped through the ship's interior, tearing it apart from the inside. A massive fireball erupted, engulfing the Arcus Validus in flames, sending debris cascading into the churning waters below. Within moments, the once-mighty vessel was reduced to a smoldering wreck, flames licking at the water as it began its slow descent into the abyss.
"Admiral! The Arcus Validus has been destroyed!" Commander Laelia shouted, her voice tinged with panic as she clung to her console. The tremor in her hands mirrored the chaos around them. "The Gladius Maximus and Ferrum Imperator are gone. The battlecruisers—"
Before she could finish, a sudden, massive explosion rocked the Invictus Arcanum itself. The ship's shields absorbed most of the impact, but the sheer force sent the crew tumbling to the ground. Alarms blared, an ear-splitting cacophony of alerts, and sparks erupted from overloaded systems, painting the bridge in chaotic flashes of light. Morvannis struggled to regain his footing, his face contorted in rage as he gripped the edges of his command chair for support. The gravity of the situation pressed down upon him; the Invictus Arcanum, the crown jewel of the Milishial Navy, was under siege.
"Status report!" Morvannis bellowed, his voice barely containing the fury that simmered beneath the surface.
"Shields are holding at 60%," Laelia replied, pulling herself upright, her knuckles white against the console as she steadied herself. Her voice was taut with fear, but the determination flickering in her eyes indicated a fierce will to fight. "But we've been hit by four of their hypersonic weapons. Another barrage like that, and we might not survive."
Morvannis clenched his fists, knuckles turning white as the flames from the battle outside illuminated the growing anger within him. His pride burned hotter than the infernos consuming the shattered remnants of his fleet. The Invictus Arcanum was an Orichalcum-Class battleship, a symbol of Milishial's technological and magical supremacy, and he would not allow it to fall. Not here. Not to these Chinese.
"All ships, prepare for evasive maneuvers!" Morvannis barked, his voice cutting through the cacophony of alarms like a blade through flesh. "We must fall back and regroup. Inform the fleet to retreat to our nearest arcane refit station. I will not lose another ship to these savages!"
As his command echoed through the bridge, the reality of the dire situation tightened its grip around them. Another series of explosions rocked the Milishial fleet, this time targeting the Adamant-Class battleships, the HMES Fortis Bellator and HMES Ultor Infernus.
Both ships, nearly as massive and formidable as the Invictus Arcanum, were hammered by four direct hits from the relentless DF-ZF glide vehicles. Their shields flared with intense magical energy, shimmering and pulsating as they strained to absorb the impacts. Unlike the smaller vessels that had succumbed to the onslaught, the sheer size and power of the Adamant-Class battleships allowed them to hold on—but barely. The shields flickered and faltered under the relentless strain, sections of their hulls buckling under the assault.
Gaping breaches were torn into the armored exteriors, exposing decks filled with crew and equipment to the chaos of the sea. Smoke billowed from ruptured sections, dark plumes mingling with the fire and destruction around them. Yet, against all odds, the battleships remained afloat, defiantly enduring the assault.
On the Nanjing, Admiral Li watched the damage with cold calculation. "They can bleed after all," he remarked quietly, a steely glint in his eyes as he observed the majestic forms of the Fortis Bellator and Ultor Infernus struggling to stay intact. The sight of Milishial's legendary ships—smoking and crippled—was a significant turning point. He understood that these vessels represented the pinnacle of Milishial naval might, yet today, even they were being pushed to the brink. The realization that they weren't defeated yet held both promise and peril.
His second-in-command, Vice Admiral Lin, stood at his side, scanning the flickering displays with a grim determination. "Their bigger ships won't go down that easily," Lin noted, frustration creeping into his tone as he watched the Fortis Bellator and Ultor Infernus endure the barrage. Despite their heavy damage, they remained operational, stubbornly refusing to yield to the onslaught. Meanwhile, the Celestium-Class battlecruisers—HMES Caelestis Ignis and HMES Astraea Lucis—along with the Aetherium-Class battlecruisers—HMES Aetherius Custos and HMES Ventus Dominator—had also been heavily damaged but were still on their feet, fighting to hold the line.
Admiral Li narrowed his eyes as he assessed the situation. Despite the devastation his fleet had inflicted, Milishial's ships could move at astonishing speeds—up to 100 knots, making them nearly untouchable in open water. They had not only survived but were also retreating, and at that speed, his forces couldn't keep pace. The decision was clear.
"Order the fleet to pull back," Li commanded, his voice sharp. "Rescue the survivors from the Milishial ramming first. Our surface ships can't chase them at that speed, and I won't waste more lives in a futile pursuit."
Vice Admiral Lin turned to him, nodding. "And the Milishial fleet?"
Li's expression remained icy, his eyes never leaving the tactical display. "Let the land-based bomber forces handle them from now. Their speed makes them untouchable for our surface ships, but they're not out of reach. The PLA Air Force can strike them where we cannot."
As the fleet moved to rescue the survivors of the brutal Milishial ramming attacks, Li quickly relayed orders to his bomber units. The H-18K bombers, already loaded with long-range anti-ship missiles, were ready to launch from bases inland. The supersonic bombers would have the range and firepower to chase down the retreating Milishial fleet, their KF-26 is an air-launched variant of the DF-26 hypersonic missiles capable of tracking and neutralizing even the fastest warships.
Onboard the Nanjing, the bridge buzzed with activity as officers moved to execute Li's orders. Radar operators coordinated the rescue missions, while communications officers relayed instructions to the bomber forces. Outside, the once-calm sea now churned with wreckage and burning hulks, a testament to the savage clash between the two mighty fleets. The survivors from the ramming attacks, both Chinese and Milishial, were being pulled from the water, battered and bloodied but alive.
The Invictus Arcanum still loomed in the distance, damaged but defiant. It, along with the Fortis Bellator, Ultor Infernus, and the remaining Milishial warships, was retreating at blinding speed. But Admiral Li knew they wouldn't get far. The bombers, high above and out of sight, would soon rain down fire on these "invincible" ships.
"We've bloodied them today," Li muttered, almost to himself. "But this fight is far from over."
As the Milishial fleet sped toward the horizon, the bomber squadrons soared into the dawn, their payloads ready to finish what the missiles had started. Li knew that this battle would echo throughout history—a clash between two empires, between the old world of magic and the new age of steel and precision.
In the end, the Milishial ships might run, but there would be no escape.
