MTLNOVEL Chapter 296: Occupation
Ocean
....
The sea was calm.
The 28th Patrol Fleet of the Indiana Empire moved steadily across the northern waters. Hundreds of ships sailed in formation—row after row of galleons, hybrid war barges, and coastal sentries. Their hulls were built from dense sacred wood, reinforced with iron bands and engraved with old symbols of protection.
It was routine. This patrol had watched these waters for decades.
But today felt different.
Fleet Admiral Varun Sen stood at the front of his flagship, the Vaishra Dawn, a heavy massive arcane battleship. He had commanded the 28th Fleet for seven years. He knew this sea.
But now, something unnatural stirred.
"Admiral," an officer called out. "Sightings, westward. Multiple vessels. Far distance—but approaching."
Varun raised his spyglass. At first, he saw only mist and light.
Then—shapes. Dark, massive, unnatural shapes.
He frowned.
These were not ordinary ships. No sails. No figureheads. Just sharp silhouettes—metal giants gliding over water with unnatural smoothness. At least thirty. Maybe more.
He adjusted the lens.
Gray hulls. Angled towers. Dull red lights. Row after row of mounted weapons. Their hulls bore markings he couldn't read—Latin letters, sharp and foreign.
"Are those ships made... entirely of metal?" one officer muttered behind him.
No one answered.
The Indiana Empire had never seen ships like these. Not even the Great Dynasties, the Elven Unions, or maybe the Dwarven Council States could build such things.
Varun lowered the glass. "Signal the rest of the fleet. Send word to the Western Command. Unknown fleet spotted near our waters—possible foreign nation."
The officers obeyed instantly.
He turned to his second-in-command. "What's the last report we had on the Bernard Empire?"
She answered quietly. "Only fragments. They took most of the Ostra continent. Very little contact. We know almost nothing."
Varun's jaw tightened.
Now, here they were—off the edge of Indiana's sea. Not inside the borders, but close enough to be a message.
The fleet braced. Battle crews armed the harpoons. Spirit engines were awakened. No one relaxed.
Across the sea, the Bernardian fleet remained still.
Aboard the Bernard Empire carrier Yorktown
Fleet Admiral Akari watched the screen. Indiana's patrol ships had spotted them.
"Status?" he asked.
"All ships in position, sir. Holding. No aggression. Awaiting your order."
He nodded.
"Let them look. Let them measure us."
He stared at the old-style wooden and iron ships in the distance. Dozens. Maybe hundreds. Well-organized. Their formation was ancient—but tight. Controlled. Disciplined.
"This is a superpower," he said to himself.
He turned to his comms officer. "No signals. No warnings. We don't provoke them unless we're provoked."
"Yes, Admiral."
Akari crossed his arms. His fleet—thirty-seven ships, including the carriers Yorktown and Akagi—remained in full standby, just outside Indiana's territorial line.
♦♦♦
19-5-1561 WC
13:30 Hours – Glyveris, South Plaza Barracks
Smoke still coiled from the east wing of the city, where the last aerial strike had collapsed the old skybridge. The once-bright banners of the Republic lay trampled into mud, soot, and blood.
Bernardian armored transports rumbled through the capital, their treads grinding over broken cobblestone and the remains of Republic signage.
The occupation began without ceremony.
Colonel Volst had issued the orders hours ago: "Sweep. Detain. Stabilize."
Republic soldiers who hadn't fled or bled out were gathered into holding pens. No torture, no executions—just silence and order. Their weapons were stacked in carts, tagged, catalogued, and melted down in mobile furnaces set up at key intersections.
The Clockwork Army, once the pride of the Republic, was already gone. What hadn't been destroyed in the bombings lay in tangled heaps across the countryside—silent, twisted, their mana cores fractured. Some units still stood like statues, powered down in alleys, their plating scorched.
People watched as Bernardian engineers disassembled the metal giants. They moved like butchers, knowing exactly where to cut.
14:05 Hours – Ministry Archives, Sector 7
Captain Morgan stood in the ruins of Aurelia's Grand Archive, now converted into an interim command hub. The books were mostly ash. The magical sigil-vaults, once glowing with academic wards, had been cracked open by gridfire rounds.
A scholar, elderly and half-blind, knelt in the rubble, cradling what was left of a scroll case. He wasn't stopped. The Empire no longer cared for symbolic resistance.
Morgan turned to the map table.
Three districts were marked yellow—stabilized. Seven remained red—hostile or disorganized.
He issued his orders with the detachment of a surgeon:
Midspire District: Arrest all Republic engineers and communication officers.
University Hill: Set up perimeter—any arcane research is to be locked down or transported.
15:45 Hours – Provincial Outpost, Eastern Reach
In the countryside, Bernardian drones flew low and slow over farmland. Soldiers entered one village at a time, demanding compliance.
Some garrisons had already surrendered after seeing Ilyra's broadcast. Others fought in confusion—cut off from command, unaware their nation had fallen.
None lasted long.
Without the Clockworks, without coordinated magic, the scattered remnants folded like dry wheat.
18:00 Hours – Western Roadway, Old Stone Bridge
A Bernardian convoy moved westward, toward the Republic's outer regions.
As the lead vehicle crossed the broken stone bridge, the scout signaled a halt.
Something was wrong.
The air was hot—too hot. And the stones beneath their boots vibrated.
Private Herrick dismounted, stepping forward.
The sensor screen lit red. Mana spike. Then overload.
A burst of heat shattered the sky.
From the ridge ahead, fire bloomed—unnatural.
Just flame—but dense, directed, and rising like a spear.
The lead vehicle caught the brunt. Metal curled. The men inside didn't scream—they didn't have time.
Herrick stumbled backward, shielding his face.
And from the heat came a figure.
Human. Armored. Cloaked in black iron.
The flames parted behind him, as though obedient.
"Tell the Empire… the Iron Flame burns still."
He heard a voice that echoed like a forge.
Then it turned and vanished into the smoke.
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