The river spray stung Captain Chervonyy's face as he surveyed the Rosian River. The morning sun glinted off the wooden rams of his triremes, a fleet that had terrorized these waters for five decades. 10 ships, each a masterpiece of ancient engineering and 11 crew, rowed in perfect unison, their oars churning the water into a frothy white. He could practically taste victory. The upstart Kingdom of Kylia, had dared to challenge his Valord's influence in the Rosian Basin. Soon, they would learn the price of such audacity.
But as a Kylian ship emerged from the mist, Captain Chervonyy felt unease that he couldn't explain. It was…wrong. The Kylian Ship was impossibly large, squat, and had a mast that seemed to touch the skies. It was like a monstrous, floating fortress.
"First steel, now this?" he muttered, clutching the railing of his flagship, the Rosian Wrath. Rosa's Butler, a veteran of countless battles, looked equally bewildered.
"The Kylians have been known to be making impossible possible for quite a while now," the butler responded, his voice tinged with curiosity. "This…is pushing the limits. These ships are unlike anything I have ever seen."
Aboard the Kylian flagship, the KYV Kylia, Admiral Viysʹkovo gripped the speaking tube, his steel-blue eyes fixed on the approaching triremes. The waves crashing into the ship's powerful bow vibrated through his boots.
"Prepare to engage," he barked into the tube, his voice amplified throughout the ship, alerting its 200 men. "Remember your training. Accuracy is paramount. Let them taste the fury of the KYV Kylian!"
As the Rosian fleet drew closer, Chervonyy ordered his ships to spread out in a traditional battle formation – a deadly crescent designed to surround and ram the enemy. He underestimated the difference in speed. The KYV Kylia, driven by its huge white sails, surged portside, easily outmaneuvering the triremes.
Then came the explosions.
With a deafening roar, the KYV Kylia unleashed a volley of cannon fire. Solid iron balls, propelled by black powder, ripped through the wooden hulls of the triremes like paper. Ships splintered and burned, their crews thrown into the churning water. The air filled with the acrid smell of gunpowder and the screams of dying men.
Chervonyy could only watch in horror as his carefully crafted battle plan disintegrated. Their wooden rams, designed to punch holes beneath the waterline, were useless against the thin iron plating of the KYV Kylia, if they could even get close. His archers, armed with bows and arrows, offered no threat against the heavily armored behemoth.
A sailor fell beside him, a gaping hole where his chest had been. The Rosian Wrath jolted violently as a cannonball tore through its oars, rendering it immobile. The KYV Kylia loomed over them, its cannons trained on the crippled flagship.
"Abandon ship!" Chervonyy roared, his voice barely audible above the wail of battle. He knew it was over. The Rosian fleet would be crippled for years after this battle.
He leaped into the water, joining the desperate throng of survivors. He clung to a piece of driftwood, watching as the Poseidon's Wrath was systematically pulverized by cannon fire. As the flagship sank beneath the waves, taking with it the hopes of 20 years of naval dominance, Chervonyy saw Admiral Viys'kovo standing on the bridge of the KYV Kylia, his face grim and resolute.
The battle ended in just minutes, not a single scratch inflicted on any of the Kylians. The Kylian Navy, a force of unstoppable iron and fire, systematically destroyed the classical fleet. By evening, the Aegean Sea was littered with wreckage and the bodies of the fallen.
Chervonyy and Rosa's Butler, miraculously alive, were pulled out of the water, captured, alongside 23 other Rosian sailors on a Kylian lifeboat. He looked back at the horizon, where the smoke from the burning ships hung like a shroud.
Sighing to himself as the boat docked the Kylian warship, he made his way onto the deck of the KYV Kylia.
Meanwhile, to the northwest, the sun beat down on a grassy plain, baking the iron helmets and linen cuirasses of the Rosian Army. Valord Rosa adjusted her sword, her gaze sweeping across the assembled ranks. 1200 Rosian troops were marching, wooden shields well…gleaming, wooden spears…splintering, ready to meet their enemy! She knew little of them, only the military victory against the bokoblins years back could be used to gauge the combat effectiveness of the Kylians. From what she knew, her sister "Kingdom" may be the hardest city she may ever conquer.
Across the uneven ground, Captain Artyleriya, leader of the 1st Artillery Company, wiped sweat from her brow. Her company of 200 men, with a cannon for Ten each, waited on top of a crescent ridge in grimm silence. Twenty Cannons, polished steel gleaming in the sunlight, stood alert on a slight rise. Behind them, another 1400 men from the 1st and only Kylian Brigade readied to attack. The 1st and 2nd Infantry Companies, led by Captain Yuter and Captain Aviasti, held with their glinting steel rifles, carefully moved to their combat positions. The 1st Cavalry, led by Captain Odin, waved the silver sabers, ready to charge. The Lavovy's in the Kylian Air Force, led by General Komada, were arming their lightweight pistols, crouched to take flight. And the 1st Logistics Company, led by Captain Vahon, reared to treat the wounded and supply ammunition.
"Remember your training, men!" Kylia barked, Her voice full and loud yet growled in a Valord accent. "Steady aim, and don't confront Rosa alone! I'll take care of her myself."
Rosa raised her hand. The trumpeter blew a long, resonant note. The Rosian Army, a wall of wood and muscle, began its inexorable advance. Chanting filled the air, a rhythmic war cry that echoed across the lush landscape, meant to inspire fear and courage.
Kylia watched through her field glasses, a new product of her Kingdom, a growing sense of pity seemed to form inside her soul. The sheer mass of the Rosian force was indeed intimidating, a tide of humanity that seemed unstoppable, it would be slaughtered when met with modern weaponry. She gave the order as her Маньоко (Ukrainian for Manyeye) of a central pupil and dozens of miniature pupils in the surrounding iris span while using her four wings to propel her into the air.
"Prepare to fire!"
The Rosian Army, oblivious to the deadly weapons arrayed against them, closed the distance. Rosa envisioned the clash of shields, the thrust and parry of spears, the bloody dance of war she knew so well. She raised her sword, ready to lead the charge and confront Kylia head on.
Then, the world erupted.
A deafening roar ripped through the air, followed by a hail of bullets that tore into the Rosian ranks. Men screamed, shields splintered, and bodies tumbled to the ground, ripped apart by unseen forces. The chanting ceased, replaced by cries of terror and confusion.
Rosa watched in horrified disbelief as her men were mowed down like wheat before a scythe. She saw a man next to him, his chest exploding in a crimson mist, fall without a sound. The sword, which she had held aloft moments before, now felt impossibly heavy.
"Kylia, I will end you and your Kingdom!" Rosa roared at Kylia who was hovering 60 meters in the air and 80 meters in front of her. Rosa's Маньоко span rapidly before she accelerates towards Kylia at Mach 0.625.
Kylia, not to be out done, descended forwards at Mach 1 with a white wall of mist forming around her as she touched the sound barrier.
The time it took for both of them to clash in between the 100 meter gap amounted to 0.17941242431 of a second, about the time it takes for a human to blink. With the Valors brain processing power and reflexes, Kylia and Rosa experienced a full second of time passing by, enough for both sides to pull out their swords to take a passing strike at each other.
At such speeds, head on collision will be a disaster for both parties. Even though Valors can do many feats that are considered inhuman, they are still biological beings that obey the laws of physics. Meaning if you get a Valor and accelerate it into an opposing force at fast enough speeds, it will likely go splat into that force or any other speed related injury.
But there was no turning back.
With the option of using anime fist style gone, using a sturdy dead inanimate object as a weapon and striking at the right time is crucial for victory.
Both Rosa and Kylia adjusted their trajectory by a fraction of a degree, angling their blades. They both aimed not for a killing blow, but for a glancing strike, after all they were still "family", fighting an "almost" death battle.
Two pairs of Маньоко's, blue and red, span wildly, both anticipating their next move. Rosa shifted her stance, bracing for her sword's impact, and roared again, a sound that echoed in Kylia's skull.
The blades met.
Then again.
In a time frame of a second both had clashed 5 times, the four later clashes taking longer to decelerate and accelerate back towards each other within a 100 meter radius.
The impact was a screech of metal against metal, a shower of sparks that vanished in the blinding sunlight. The force nearly ripped the swords from their grasps, sending vibrations shuddering up their arms. Both women in the air staggered for a split second, but recovered immediately, their eyes locked in a fierce, silent battle of wills.
Behind Rosa, the cannon fire and gunfire continued their horrific work on the Rosian ranks. Smoke and blood mingled in the air, creating a scene of absolute carnage. The ground itself was becoming a muddy swamp of death.
A full second later after the tenth clash between Kylia and Rosa, Rosa's sword, made up of inferior Rosian iron, broke apart. Kylia descended downwards behind her lines of artillery towards Captain Artyleriya, while Rosa landed in the midst of her few remaining soldiers.
"Captain! Focus!" Kylia commanded without looking at Artyleriya. "Continue the barrage! Don't give them a chance to regroup!"
Artyleriya snapped to attention, her face grim. "Yes, General!" She barked the orders to her men, and the cannons roared again, sending another wave of iron death slamming into the Rosian lines.
Rosa watched with a burning rage as her army disintegrated. The wooden shields were useless against the hail of bullets and cannonballs. The linen cuirasses offered no protection against the tearing metal. Her men, brave and loyal, were being slaughtered like animals.
"Enough!" Rosa screamed, the word barely audible against the din of battle. "Rally to me! We charge!"
900 of the remaining Rosian soldiers, driven by desperation and loyalty to their leader, surged forward. But before they could gain any momentum, the Kylian cavalry thundered into action. Captain Odin, a towering figure on a black stallion, led the charge, his silver saber flashing in the sun.
The cavalry swept through the disorganized Rosian ranks, sabers cutting down soldiers who were already reeling from the artillery barrage. The remaining Rosian soldiers, demoralized and outmatched, fought with desperate courage, but it was a losing battle.
"Phalanx! Form phalanx!" Rosa roared, trying to regain control, but her voice was lost in the ceaseless din. The Rosian Army, trained for close-quarters combat, was being decimated before they could even scratch the enemy.
Kylia, having regrouped with her officers, watched as Rosa tried to inspire her men. She felt a strange mix of pity and resolution. "Cease fire!" she shouted, her voice carried across the battlefield as cannons fell silent and rifles stopped firing. Even the cavalry slowed their charge, waiting for further orders. A stunned silence descended upon the battlefield, broken only by the groans of the wounded and the crackle of dying fires.
Rosa lowered what remained of her sword, the iron dull hilt dull with blood and dust. She lost and had led her men to their doom, a doom they could not possibly have foreseen.
Kylia saw Rosa standing amidst the desolation, a solitary figure amidst a sea of carnage. Kylia approached slowly, her hand resting on her personal revolver. "Do you yield?" she asked, her voice carrying across the silent battlefield.
Rosa met Kylia's gaze, her own eyes filled with a mixture of grief, anger, and resignation. She dropped her sword to the ground, the sound echoing the fall of the State of Rosa.
"Captain Aviasti, Captain Yuter," Kylia commanded, her voice resonating with authority. "Take your companies and capture the remaining Rosian forces. Captain Odin, chase all who try to escape. Pin them down."
"Yes, Your Majesty!" The officers replied in unison, moving to execute her orders.
"Rosa," Kylia looked over at her defeated sister. "After we clean up the battlefield, let's talk one on one in private on reparations, current events and family."
Kylia stretched out her hand towards Rosa in a trustful manner, the sun setting behind her.
Hesitating, Rosa then stretched out her own hand, holding on as the two made their way towards the sunset over the battlefield.