Very Wrong Reincarnation: Isekai with Game Nation

A Sea of Flames

B-BOOM! 

The thunderous roar of the Gra Valkan Galaxy-class battleship Betel’s main guns echoed across the horizon as they dueled with the Milishial Gold-class battleship Variant. At a distance of approximately 26 kilometers, the parabolic flight of Milishial shells painted arcs across the sky like flares, each trajectory menacingly creeping closer to their mark. 

BOOM! 

SPLASH! 

Massive columns of water erupted as the Milishial forces narrowly missed a direct hit, a mere 20 meters away from the Betel’s bow. Seawater rained down upon the lumbering steel behemoth, a vessel that had served the Gra Valkan Navy for over three centuries. Despite its age, the ship was a trusted veteran, having sunk dozens of Kane merchant ships, escort vessels, and even light cruisers. Now, however, this old warrior faced one of the most advanced and formidable navies in the New World. 

“Geas has been hit, sir!” 

A report broke through the chaos of battle. Captain Radin glanced towards the starboard side, his expression darkening as he spotted massive plumes of black smoke rising from the Geas’s stern. 

“Damn it, Mirkenesse! She’s doing unnecessary things again,” he muttered under his gasping breath, cursing the strategic missteps. 

They were attempting to fight off the world’s strongest fleet—one renowned for its cutting-edge technology and overwhelming firepower.

The odds were grim. 

The Milishial forces boasted three Gold-class battleships, each deemed comparable to Gra Valkas relatively modern second-generation battleships are nearly three decades old. The Gra Valkans had only two battleships to oppose them. 

In terms of supporting ships, the disparity was no better. The Gra Valkans fielded three heavy cruisers and one light cruiser against Milishial’s five heavy cruiser classes. They had eight destroyers to Milishial’s eleven. 

Captain Radin gritted his teeth as he surveyed the sea. The odds were already stacked against them, but to add insult to injury, Milishial had been fully prepared for their arrival. Over 60 Milishial attack aircrafts had launched an immediate offensive in the opening stages of the battle. The surprise air attack had resulted in the loss of one destroyer and significant damage to other ships. Though the damage was not enough to hinder their combat capabilities, the morale drop among his men was profoundly clear and he understood it well. This, he thought grimly, was nothing short of suicide. 

“Destroyer torpedoes will reach the enemy at any given moment, sir!” an officer reported. 

The destroyers, in a desperate bid to turn the tide, had launched their torpedoes at extreme range—nearly 30 kilometers—a gamble that depended on sheer luck and the element of surprise, earlier. 

“They should,” Radin murmured, offering a silent prayer for a hit. 

Moments later, his prayers were answered. 

Massive columns of water erupted in the distance. 

“Enemy battleship hit! Enemy cruiser sunk! One destroyer class ship appears dead in the water!” 

Cheers erupted from the crew, their spirits momentarily lifted by the unexpected success. “Yes! They walked right into the torpedo paths like fools!” 

The small victory reinvigorated the crew, even as the overwhelming odds loomed large over them. A report from the comms officer added another spark of hope “22 aircraft from the Eastern Fleet have arrived!”