Chapter 197: Aquatic War-Machines!

For a long, unbearable moment, no one spoke. The only sound was the faint tremor of water vibrating around them, fading slowly from the wake of the Vesper Sea Drake. Even after it was gone, its presence clung to the group like a phantom weight pressing against their ribs.

Some students didn’t even dare breathe yet, afraid movement alone might draw another one of those things back toward them.

Lilian hugged her knees, trying to pretend she wasn’t still shaking, “Holy shit…” she whispered under her breath. “That thing… that thing was bigger than a fortress. Bigger than a damn mountain.”

One of the students farther down the rock cluster let out a faint, hysterical laugh that died halfway out of his throat. “I-I thought Titan-class meant… like… big… but that—” He couldn’t finish the sentence. His voice cracked too badly.

Another student muttered, “I didn’t even see all of it. It just kept going. And going. And, fuck, I think I’m going to be sick.”

A few more minutes passed before Kaen forced himself to speak again, voice still unsteady.

“Titan-class Aquatic Abyssals aren’t monsters,” he said quietly. “They’re natural disasters masquerading as living things. Even the Grand Fleet avoids engaging them unless absolutely necessary.”

Lilian ran a hand back through her soaked hair. “No wonder she said ’second highest class’ like it was already game over.”

Albedo stared outward, trying to track where the Vesper Sea Drake had gone. Even with his perception, he could no longer feel it. That should have been comforting. It wasn’t. “How many of those are out here, exactly?”

Serah blew out a tense breath, “Truthfully, we don’t know, but there’s definitely Hundreds if not Thousands of them swimming around the entire Demonic Sea, not even counting the natural Seas. In the immediate vicinity, our readings picked up at least three signatures… maybe four. But it could be more. They move unpredictably when drawn by a beacon.”

Elara frowned, “A beacon created by… what? The collapse of Vorago?”

Kaen nodded. “Sharp guess. Large-scale dimensional distortion, mana implosions, structural collapse… all of that rings out through the deeper layers of the Demonic Sea like a war horn. Abyssal Titans are sensitive to changes in spatial density and mana current patterns. Our battle most likely drew them here,”

“That’s great,” Lilian muttered. “Just great. We blow up one ancient underwater death-dungeon and suddenly the ocean’s top predators want to know who slapped their front door.”

No one laughed.

A soft thrum went through the barrier as Serah stabilized her mana output. She was pale. Albedo noticed the slight tremor in her wrist as she kept her hand raised.

Thirty minutes of constant pressure as she maintained the barrier was draining enough. Another hour would be brutal. Twelve hours? Impossible. He didn’t say anything. She knew the risks. Kaen knew. They all knew. But reality didn’t care.

Time oozed by slowly and painfully.

Another silhouette drifted past after what felt like twenty minutes but could’ve easily been two seconds. This one was broader, flatter, with a body shaped like an armored manta whose wings spanned so far that its edges vanished into the gloom.

Its underside crackled faintly with bioluminescent veins, each pulse releasing a low-frequency hum that pressed against the barrier.

“Eclipse Ray…” Kaen mouthed silently.

Even whispering felt dangerous now.

The monstrous ray drifted overhead, casting a twilight shadow over the barrier. Its wingspan had to be at least a kilometer across. Maybe more. Every flap produced enough pressure to send dust sliding off the rocks around the students.

Some flinched. One girl’s breath hiccuped into a tiny squeak before her friend covered her mouth with both hands, eyes wide with panic.

It passed by without looking at them, not sensing anything there.

Not long after, another creature appeared, this one a spiraling column of tendrils and translucent muscle that writhed like a leviathan-sized jellyfish.

Its core flickered with a burning silver flame, giving it a ghostly holy appearance that contrasted sharply with the abyssal aura it emanated.

Elara swallowed hard, staring, “That’s a Herald Polyp… right?”

Kaen shook his head once, “No. That’s its adult form. A Sovereign Polyp. Titan-class.”

A student nearly fainted at that.

Hours crawled past, with long stretches of silence interrupted by the occasional shadow drifting dangerously close. The barrier groaned under the pressure several times, but Serah kept it stable, even as her face grew ghostly pale and thin trails of blood seeped from her nose.

Albedo caught her elbow once when her knees wobbled. She shook her head sharply, insisting she could still hold it.

“Don’t waste mana,” she whispered. “We only survive if I maintain concealment.”

“Not at the cost of you collapsing,” Albedo muttered.

Serah didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Serah eventually took a rest, while Albedo with his vast mana pool took over maintaining the barrier, getting everyone’s thanks.

Time lost meaning soon enough and students rotated silently to keep others from drifting toward the barrier when exhaustion made them slump.

A few cried quietly into their arms, muffling it underwater as best they could. Lilian comforted one trembling girl with slow strokes on the back, murmuring reassurance she didn’t quite believe herself.

Elara’s eyes drifted shut multiple times, only to snap open whenever another pressure wave crept over the rocks.

Once, a Titan-class creature passed so close that the barrier’s runes flared white-hot before dimming again. Everyone thought that was the end. Everyone thought something had noticed. But the creature drifted past without reacting, continuing its slow, aimless search.

Hours stacked atop hours.

Six.

Eight.

Ten.

Some students drifted on the edge of unconsciousness from exhaustion, hunger, and sheer terror. Serah was trembling violently by hour eleven, her voice gone, her eyes unfocused, but still she refused to drop her hand.

Albedo was ready to wrench her away from the barrier and take over through Forced Mana Transfer if she slipped even once.

Finally, finally, near the twelfth hour, Kaen tensed. His eyes narrowed. He turned his head sharply, as though hearing something outside the barrier.

Albedo, Elara, and Lilian all perked up instantly.

“Inspector?” Serah rasped, voice barely there.

Kaen stared outward, lips parting in disbelief.

“They’re here…” he whispered.

He rose slowly to his feet.

“Reinforcements. The Empire’s Aquatic War Machines just entered the combat zone.”

For the first time in twelve hours, hope rippled through the battered group like a fresh breath of air.

Lilian exhaled shakily, nearly laughing from sheer relief. Elara sagged against Albedo, eyes closing again, this time from release rather than fear.

Kaen’s jaw clenched with determination.

“Everyone hold tight,” he said. “Help is finally coming.”

Kaen pressed two fingers to the side of his neck, activating a compact communications charm embedded beneath his armor. The water around his ear shimmered faintly as he listened to something the rest couldn’t hear. His brows drew together sharply.

“They’ve spotted the beacon distortion. They’re sweeping the sector now.” Kaen said.

Serah swayed where she knelt, still half-leaning on Albedo’s shoulder. “C-Can they extract us?”

Kaen nodded slowly. “Yes. But they need us to move to them. Their mana cannons will start firing soon, and if we’re too close to their barrage range when they do…” His meaning hung heavily in the water.

Lilian grimaced, “We’ll be paste.”

Kaen turned to Albedo, eyes firm. “Drop the barrier. All of you, swim northwest immediately. Half a kilometer. The war machines will intercept.”

A ripple of fear and relief surged through the students. Removing the barrier meant exposing themselves—after twelve straight hours of hiding from monsters that could swallow islands whole.

Albedo felt every trembling gaze fall on him.

“Do it,” he said simply.

Serah hesitated, but Albedo covered her hand gently, “You’ve done enough. Rest.”

He pulsed his mana outward, stabilizing the enchantment just long enough to lower it cleanly. The shimmering veil peeled away like dissolving glass. The crushing weight of the open ocean hit them instantly, dark, cold, vast.

Every student stiffened and no one breathed, and then,

No one breathed.

“Go!” Kaen barked.

The group surged upward at once, wings of mana flaring to help them swim faster. Their ascent wasn’t graceful, many were shaking, sluggish from fear and exhaustion, but momentum carried them.

Northwest.

Toward survival.

The moment the barrier vanished, the water around them seemed to stir with distant movement. A hum. A shift of pressure. Something massive turning somewhere in the abyss.

“Faster!” Lilian hissed, clutching Elara’s wrist as she dragged her along.

Albedo scooped up two lagging students with a sweep of mana, pulling them forward as the group streaked through the dim blue gloom. His senses stretched outward, trying not to focus on the enormous shadows drifting below like mountains half-buried in fog.

They moved for thirty agonizing seconds.

Then, a low vibration rolled through the water. Not natural at all, and the students slowed in shock as something colossal emerged from the northern haze.

Lilian’s mouth fell open.

“Oh… my… gods…”

The first Aquatic War Machine broke into view—an armored juggernaut the size of a floating fortress, plated in runic steel and obsidian-scale alloy.

Its body resembled a titanic manta-ray made of metal and magic, wings stretching across hundreds of meters, each engraved with glowing wards that pulsed like beating hearts.

Massive harpoon cannons jutted from its sides, some longer than ships, glinting with condensed mana cores bright enough to turn the water white.

At its front, a triple-layered maw of interlocking spell engines churned, heating the ocean until steam bubbled from its passage.

And it wasn’t alone.

Three more machines slid into formation behind it, each uniquely shaped, one like a serpentine leviathan of chain-linked plates, another like a colossal armored nautilus with rotating rune-rings, and the last a brutal, angular behemoth carrying enough artillery to level small continents.

The sea itself seemed to react. Various smaller beasts immediately fled, and the pressure around the sea shifted. Even distant Titan-class presences recoiled, drifting back into the deeper trenches.

The lead war machine emitted a resonant pulse. A voice boomed through the water.

“Unidentified mana signatures, hold position. Extraction in ten seconds.”

Students nearly collapsed from sheer relief.

“Survivors located,” the mechanical voice continued. “Initiating retrieval.”

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