Sometime between late 1616 CC and mid-1617 CC, the Boreas Archipelago, a group of uninhabited islands located between the First Civilization Area and the North Pole, was quietly claimed by the Holy Milishial Empire and classified as an “Unorganized Insular Territory.” Development was swiftly intensified thereafter, with large-scale construction efforts rapidly converting the once-isolated archipelago into JMSC Tarpian Rock, a heavily fortified military stronghold.

  Within the Holy Empire’s administrative framework, the designation “unorganized” indicates that the territory does not operate under any formal charter establishing a civilian administrative agency, elected assembly, or local government. Instead, the islands fall directly under the Holy Empire’s jurisdiction, with no civil bureaucracy, provincial parliament, or autonomous authority. Governance is exercised entirely through military command structures and directives issued from the capital. The archipelago is far from the Civilization Areas, uninhabited, climatically harsh, and economically insignificant beyond its strategic value. There is no native population to administer, no established settlements to integrate, and no commercial infrastructure requiring civilian oversight. As such, the Holy Empire considered it unnecessary to expend political capital or administrative resources on transforming the islands into a full province, nor to incorporate them into the nearest provinces, which were nowhere close to the region.

  This approach stood in marked contrast to the Holy Empire’s handling of the Sol Islands. Owing to their proximity to Mu and the presence of an established population, the Sol Islands were elevated to provincial status. By incorporating them as a formal province, the Holy Empire was able to install a civilian administration, extend national law comprehensively, and symbolically cement its dominance over a geopolitically sensitive region.

  Still, JMSC Tarpian Rock was established to house the Holy Empire’s clandestine military operations unit, such as the aerial fleet elements affiliated with various branches of the Armed Forces. However, the Holy Empire’s leadership also understood that the scale of construction required to transform a barren subpolar archipelago into a hardened multi-branch fortress could not be concealed indefinitely. Even if access were tightly restricted and supply routes masked under many roundabouts, the flow of information would eventually expose its existence to the broader known world. Anticipating eventual exposure, the Holy Empire prepared to publicly formalize and legalize its sovereignty once discovery became unavoidable, pairing the announcement with coordinated diplomatic engagement and compensation arrangements for neighboring states, plans laid well in advance.

  Officials in Runepolis were under no illusion that the revelation would pass without criticism. Observers in Mu and Parpaldia might well regard the move as hypocritical. After all, the Holy Empire had previously blocked both countries’ own attempts to claim certain outlying islands. However, the Milishial diplomats were prepared to draw a sharp legal distinction.

  In Mu’s case, tensions had escalated only when Mu’s declared claims of the Sol Islands overlapped directly with pre-existing Milishial survey zones. The dispute had not been about abstract expansion, but about competing demarcations over the same geographic features. From the Holy Empire’s standpoint, it had acted defensively to prevent encroachment into areas it already considered within its strategic perimeter. The Boreas Archipelago, by contrast, lay outside any formally declared Muish claim and did not intersect at all with Mu’s recognized maritime boundaries.

  Meanwhile, Parpaldia’s frustration stemmed less from specific island disputes and more from structural obstruction. Through its Island Chain Strategic Diplomacy, the Holy Empire had systematically strengthened and informally guaranteed minor island states along the periphery of the Third Civilization Area. Rather than confronting Parpaldia directly, the Holy Empire’s political maneuvers had constructed a wall of enhanced small states that made it very risky for the Dragon of Philades to invade.

  Against this geopolitical backdrop, personnel stationed at JMSC Tarpian Rock continued their duties amid the subpolar cold and frequent snowfall, isolated from external interference save for the occasional penguins and seals inhabiting the surrounding seas.

  ............

  July 9, 1617 Central Calendar

  Off the coast of Joint Military Station Complex Tarpian Rock, Goldras Sea on the 65th Parallel North

  “Ahh… yet another cold and snowy day. Compared to the hot and humid air of our homeland, I kind of prefer this one,” the Lieutenant Commander captaining the Rahab-class submarine 069 spoke to his crew who lined the top deck of the surfaced boat as they returned from yet another training sortie.

  Seeing the captain’s composed demeanor, part of the crew who had been tense finally began to relax, and feeling the shift in the atmosphere, the captain was satisfied. His act had worked.

  Even as members of the Annonrial Empire’s elite Fleet of Particular Justice, life aboard a submarine was still harsh. If the captain failed to project confidence and composure, even if it had to be forced, the crew might struggle to keep their nerves steady, and the vessel’s safety could be put at risk. That was why he maintained the fa?ade.

  It had been easier before, when all he needed to convey was the certainty that no intruder could survive entering the Absolute Kill Zone. Now that such assurances were no longer possible, he had to think much harder about how to maintain morale. In doing so, he sometimes found himself consulting the military personnel of the Holy Milishial Empire stationed at JMSC Tarpian Rock, ironically the very people who had once been their captors, but had since become their caretakers who had accommodated the submarine and her entire crew’s defection.

  But despite the insistently used term of ‘defection,’ the 069 had ended up in this remote corner of the world only because she had been captured by the Holy Milishial Empire’s skyprowler Thunderbolt Fantasy two months earlier. Afterward, all 67 of the crew were flown to meet the White Lotus Leader face-to-face in sequence, where they were shown the Temple of Heaven. The experience made it surprisingly easy for them to come to terms with the jarring chain of events and accept the shocking truth about the Ravernal Empire without much resistance before defecting wholesale. After all, if even the Winged People were not spared their progenitor’s promised purge upon their return, why should they remain loyal to Zarathostra of the Messiah, who championed the cause so fervently? That had been their rationalization for their ‘out-of-character’ actions.

  Because of Meteos Roguerider’s powerset, the shift in allegiance happened swiftly and efficiently, though that same efficiency stripped the moment of any real stakes or dramatic tension. It just… happened. What could have been a major political turning point instead felt boring and anticlimactic as hell. With no casualties on either side and even former enemies walking away to live “happily ever after,” the entire affair offered nothing for Pestilence to shape into a compelling story, though Meteos did not care in the slightest about his complaints.

  Back to the 069, ever since the Milishial military finished its dissection of the boat, the submarine was reassembled in the Cauldron and put to sea again, where she and her crew would assist the Holy Empire in understanding how the Annonrial Empire’s military operates as an aggressor during exercises. However, during these training missions, the 069 was crewed by only half of her original personnel. The remaining half had been reassigned elsewhere before later rotating back to replace the deployed crew. Their vacant positions were temporarily filled by members of the Holy Milishial Imperial Navy, and even the Nephilim crew exchanged their original uniforms for Milishial ones and were trained in using their gear.

  Staring at the winged Lieutenant Commander’s back was the Milishial officer assigned to oversee the submarine and her defected crew, a woman bearing the rank of Commander in the HME Navy. At her side stood a taciturn Xyston Magia. Both of them observed the Annonrial crew as they slowly loosened up under their captain’s casual chatter, replacing the Executive Officer who belonged to the other half currently staying at the base.

  “They barely manage to maintain their morale,” the Commander murmured quietly, her voice low enough that it would not carry across the deck. The AI gave a slight nod but said nothing.

  The Lieutenant Commander, who had apparently overheard despite the wind, snorted faintly and turned around.

  “Well, of course they barely manage. Everyone here carries their own thoughts. They literally left their own family to be here, you know? And now that the cat’s out of the bag, who knows if Emperor Zarathostra will send his executioners to silence us? Just because we in the Fleet of Particular Justice are the Messiah’s favored doesn’t mean we’re untouchable.”

  His tone was almost mocking.

  “Hard to keep spirits high when everyone in the crew is busy arguing with ghosts.”

  “Duly noted, I’ll pass that along to the higher-ups.”

  “What about you?”

  When the AI posed the question, a crooked smile tugged at the corner of the Lieutenant Commander’s mouth.

  “Me? Nah, I don’t have that problem. Things are easier when you ain’t got no family to worry about. My wife used to cheat on me with some Air Force officer, so I speared both their hearts with these hands. Later I found out she was pregnant—but I figure the brat was that femboy bastard’s, not mine.”

  “………”

  He spoke about the matter with disarming casualness, as though recounting some unremarkable story. Despite his derisive words, the Commander couldn’t help but note that the Lieutenant Commander looked rather feminine himself. Whether he recognized the irony was anyone’s guess.

  Within the ideology of the Annonrial (and Ravernal) Empire, such acts were not automatically condemned. Their culture championed the creed of “stand up and fight for what you believe in, even if it means standing alone.” Investigations had revealed that the Lieutenant Commander had been wronged, so he was even praised by the public for murdering them both as having proven his strength of will through a decisive action. This man had followed that belief to its logical conclusion.

  However, the organization he served could not ignore the political pressure coming from the Annonrial Air Force, which at the time was gaining the upper hand in a dispute over the jurisdiction of the flying battleship Pal Chimera. To spite them, the Navy reassigned the Lieutenant Commander to the Fleet of Particular Justice, the Annonrial military’s submarine command and Emperor Zarathostra’s prized silent service. That move effectively shut the Air Force down, for they had little choice but to leave alone a man favored by their Messiah.

  In hindsight, that string of events was a rather lucky streak, as the Navy’s surface fleet command was weakened by the rise of submarines and flying battleships, putting their raison d’être into question. But at that time, the Lieutenant Commander felt that the spineless Navy had caused his career to tank. Before he knew it, he was commanding a submarine in the Absolute Kill Zone, tasked with hunting intruders until the scandal faded from memory. In the end, he grew to enjoy the work. The fact that he hadn’t been really punished at all said plenty about how morality functioned within the Annonrial Empire. Even with a person’s beliefs and convictions turned upside down by the Temple of Heaven, their personality remained the same.

  The Lieutenant Commander went on.

  “Still, the work suited many of us. You’d be surprised how much enjoyment people can find in slaughtering intruders. But our boat isn’t even part of your anti-Annonrial strategy, no? Researching how to be beaten down is quite a demoralizing duty.”

  “………Hmph. Quite the story you spun there. But this is for your own protection.”

  “Why, thank you,” the Lieutenant Commander grinned. “So, think fast about a solution?”

  “Patience is necessary against the enemy. Besides, that matter is not mine to decide,” said the Commander, brushing off the taunts.

  The Lieutenant Commander cast a glance at the Milishial officer and responded with a noncommittal shrug. He was well aware that the Holy Milishial Empire, founded in staunch opposition to any resurgence of the Ravernal Empire, was a society whose culture was severely punishing for the kind of arbitrary behavior that would have been typical for a true Annonrial. Wanting to remain in the good graces of people who granted him asylum and kept him well-fed, he generally conducted himself according to their standards. Still, he couldn’t deny the satisfaction he felt in moments of triumph, when he managed to assert dominance over a situation with his actions. For reasons he couldn’t quite explain, he had also begun to enjoy subtly provoking the striking woman watching over him, looking for the faintest hints of irritation that she carefully concealed behind a mask of professional composure. He had already abandoned any such attempts with the AI beside her, the glorified golem proving to be a stoic bore from the start, leaving making the Commander tick to be his only real source of entertainment.

  In the end, unburdened by any lingering attachment to the Annonrial Empire, the Lieutenant Commander was even prepared to turn on his former comrades. The same could not be said for the other crews, who grew restless yet had no clear idea what course of action to take.

  Everyone needs some form of entertainment and relaxation, and it was a commander’s responsibility to provide recreation for the soldiers under their command. However, the defectors’ situation was far more complicated than simply lacking amenities. They had arrived here only after being effectively kidnapped, and they carried the heavy stress of leaving their families behind—families now at the mercy of the most dangerous individual alive. Comforts and amenities alone could not resolve such worries, especially since the Temple of Heaven had not erased their love for their families. They were already reported as dead by the Annonrial authorities, and if the Messiah’s regime ever found out that they were still alive, Emperor Zarathostra would personally see to it that they would stay dead and use his charisma as the Messiah to convince their families to hate the defectors as heathens.

  If only Meteos were to go a step further with his powers and remove even that attachment, the issue might disappear. Yet doing so would likely create an entirely new set of problems—perhaps even worse than the ones they faced now.

  When the 069 neared the rocky islands, something in the nearby waters caught the attention of the Lieutenant Commander and crew, prompting them to shout and point toward it.

  “Hey, what the hell is that?”

  Following the Lieutenant Commander’s gaze, the Milishial Commander raised her binoculars toward the direction everyone was pointing, while the AI simply zoomed in using built-in optics. Moving quickly in the opposite direction of the 069 was a dark shape sitting low in the water, but not as low as their own submarine. It looked like a submarine, with a smooth shape that appeared to be lined by numerous glossy black tiles, its sail large, tall, and blocky, visible with several devices protruding from it, along with a single vertical stabilizer jutting above the sea surface. No—there was no doubt about it. It was a submarine.

  As the two vessels passed one another, the sheer size of the unknown watercraft stunned the Annonrial crewmen, even the usually nonchalant Lieutenant Commander. Measuring 180 meters in length, it was nearly twice as long as a Rahab and almost three times the Holy Empire’s Pattern II U-boats. It was an absolute unit.

  “Is that a submarine?”

  At the Lieutenant Commander’s muttered astonishment, the Milishial Commander chimed in with a light snort.

  “Should be right. That’s the first of the brand-new Pattern 941 superheavy cruiser U-boats, also known as the Typhoon-pattern… Looks like they’re finally being deployed.”

  “With a size that big, it looks more like a sea monster than an ‘undersea boat’!” the Lieutenant Commander exclaimed again. Then, recalling something, he turned toward the Milishial officer. “So what exactly are you planning to use that thing for?”

  “Hmph. To defeat our enemies, of course.”

  “……Bah, fair enough. But aren’t you guys burning your money a bit too much?”

  “Hardly.”

  “?”

  The Lieutenant Commander and the rest of the 069 crew still believed that the Holy Milishial Empire’s technological leap was driven mainly by automation through golems. Even so, a project of this scale should still be funded through the state treasury. Still in the dark about the Holy Empire’s ability to draw effectively limitless energy and resources from the Hollow Planet, the Lieutenant Commander could only tilt his head at the Milishial Commander’s nonchalant response.

  Belonging to the Neoteric weapons group, indeed, the new Typhoon-pattern submarine that the Milishial military had just suddenly revealed here looked nothing like the conventional U-boat classes they have built so far both in terms of shape and technology used. When surfaced, it resembled a small ship with a broad and flat upper deck rather than a submarine as the Annonrial people knew it—low, narrow, and cramped, barely rising above the water. As things stood, the Typhoon-pattern was the largest submarine in the world.

  Yet the Pattern 941 was only one among numerous Neoteric submarine designs drawn up by the Holy Milishial Empire’s competing Design Bureaus. Production approval had been granted only recently for the JMSC Tarpian Rock’s Cauldron. What would later instill true dread in the defecting Annonrial submariners was the realization that the Cauldron enabled the Holy Empire to manufacture such colossal undersea vessels at astonishing speed and launch them into service almost immediately, with the option to operate them even without onboard human crews. In fact, the HGU-1 Typhoon that 069 had just passed was operating entirely under automated control. It had just emerged from the Cauldron, launching almost immediately upon completion without a single human crew aboard.

  At that moment, the Milishial Commander stepped up beside the Lieutenant Commander and spoke quietly.

  “With a display of power like that, being under our protection should feel rather reassuring, wouldn’t you say?”

  “………For me, at least.”

  Still not letting go of his subordinates’ fragile state of mind, the Lieutenant Commander allowed a taunting grin to return to his face as he answered.

  July 18, 1617 Central Calendar

  Joint Military Station Complex Tarpian Rock, Goldras Sea on the 65th Parallel North

  Built in the same fashion as the original—by tunneling through tons of rock—the base’s Cauldron Ur-2 facility shared the same underground shipyard layout and dimensions. This design allowed the Holy Empire’s military to construct multiple seafaring vessels simultaneously while benefiting from the increased secrecy provided by its remote location. Now, one week after the launch of the first Pattern 941 submarine and once sufficient data had been collected, orders arrived from higher command to begin mass production of the Typhoons.

  “Inputting design data: Pattern 941 Superheavy Cruiser Submarine. Quantity: eight units… Design data input complete. Ready to proceed.”

  “Materials, no abnormalities.”

  “Mana, no abnormalities.”

  “Alright,” the Navy Commander overseeing Cauldron operations clapped his hands once. “Commence construction of units HGU-2 through 9!”

  At his command, the operators manning the control room immediately went to work at their stations, bringing the magical technology to life. On the monitor, the three pillars of a Cauldron’s operation converged into an ethereal nebula-like state and gradually materialized the desired output, while a timer displayed the estimated time remaining until completion. The materials, in the form of pedanium powder, entered the Cauldron through its ports at the same time as bluish particles of mana, mixing and attaching themselves to the outlines of the final product.

  “Pedanium output rate stable.”

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  “Likewise, the mana flow is stable. Estimated time until completion: 30 hours.”

  “Good! At this rate, we’re going to finish the job in no time. But there’s no room for complacency, continue monitoring the process closely and report any abnormalities!”

  “Yes, sir!”

  The atmosphere in the room was relaxed, and the commander in particular seemed quite upbeat as he watched the construction unfold. It was as if the endeavor to establish a new fleet to safeguard the northern front was but a child’s play.

  ............

  “The Navy’s polar strategy is developing.”

  “So it would seem.”

  From the nearby moored flagship of the Imperial Guard Fleet’s SSG Shadow Moon, the battleship Tlaloc, Yponavarch Rudolph Tachyon and the vessel’s captain watched as several enormous submarines emerged one after another from the mouth of Cauldron Ur-2, disappearing into the snowing midnight sea. Their silhouettes were visible only because of the surrounding backlight. Otherwise, the new submarines maintained an impressively stealthy profile in the darkness: their top decks lacked mounted weaponry, their hulls were coated in jet-black paint despite their immense size, and state-of-the-art MASON (magical active sonar nullifier) tiles covered their surfaces, greatly reducing the likelihood of detection through acoustic methods.

  “Still, the fact that those boats are being deployed literally the very moment they’re completed means there’s no human crew aboard them, correct?” the captain asked.

  “Indeed. I haven’t been told what exactly is unfolding on the other side of Hyperborea, but it appears the high command wants to establish a containment measure against Hell as quickly as possible. The Holy Empire’s own ‘Absolute Kill Zone,’ so to speak.”

  Tachyon snorted at his own words.

  It was regrettable that the Holy Milishial Empire had gained yet another source of danger just as it had barely begun dealing with the Annonrial Empire, but there was little that could be done about it. Had this been the Holy Milishial Empire of the pre-High Charity era, the nation would likely have fallen into a state of great crisis, paralyzed by the panic of being forced to confront two fronts at once. But armed with the infinite production capability of the Cauldrons, Emperor Milishial VIII calmly ordered the establishment of countermeasures, despite the facilities’ still nascent numbers. With plenty of resources, the military could even pursue a rather luxurious redundancy, though measures were also in place should they ever suddenly fall into scarcity. This was a time when their ideal of “Mantle of Responsibility” aligned rather well with realistic calculations.

  The “Hell” mentioned in the two Imperial Guard officers’ conversation referred to the other half of the Northern Hemisphere, an uncharted region that had recently been encountered by the airships of the MOASEC Secret Department’s Special Operations Fleet during an exploration mission two months earlier. Stretching roughly from the most distant and dangerous parts of the Fortunate Isles west of Leifor to the other end of the Great Orient in the Far East, it effectively split the planet’s northern hemisphere into two halves.

  During their survey, the Special Operations Fleet discovered that the region was extremely hostile even to high-flying airborne objects. Whatever inhabited the area was able to detect approaching airships through sensing fields and responded by launching tsunami-like volleys of crudely shaped yet highly accurate guided projectiles with performance comparable to modern weaponry. Lacking access to the complete intelligence possessed by the White Lotus, which named it the “Great Wall of Mictlan-Palamecia,” the Emperor only received a report stating that the Order of the Ancients had provisionally designated the region “Hell,” and a potential presence of a rampant Ancient Sorcerous Empire’s legacy threatening to spill over to their side. The latter assessment remained speculative, however, and ultimately served merely as an additional justification for the already-approved Operation TWIN HORN, a plan to fortify the North Pole as a forward operating base beyond the watchful eyes of the Annonrial Empire.

  Nevertheless, concerned that they might have provoked a hostile entity capable of crossing into the Known World, the Emperor ordered an accelerated effort to establish a ‘polar fortress.’ This defensive network would center on JMSC Tarpian Rock for the Imperial Armed Forces and Almark Station on the Hyperborea Continent for MOASEC. He also authorized the construction of one or two additional Arbor Installations similar to High Charity, a project that would require further deep drilling into the planet’s interior. Although the decision placed significant stress on the Holy Empire’s leadership, it ultimately aligned with Meteos’ broader agenda, especially as he had begun to view the North Pole as the ideal location to test his Jaunte Plan.

  One of such anti-Hell countermeasures was the deployment of 36 Typhoon-pattern large submarines for the Hyperborean Circle alone, serving as the underwater arm of the containment effort. With Cauldron Ur-2 currently focused on producing these vessels, turning out eight every 30 hours, it was estimated that the preliminary defensive line could be completed within a week. The only caveat was that all of these submarines would be operated solely by Associated Intelligences rather than human crews.

  Out of the many Neoteric submarine designs submitted, the Pattern 941 Typhoon was ultimately given priority. Its design incorporated 24 heavy energy projectors capable of rapidly unleashing large volumes of highly destructive Teraflare-class energy strikes to saturate a target area, or in other words, firing large bursting plasma torpedoes like a machine gun against massed enemy formations even from underwater, although that was the White Lotus Leader’s reasoning. Furthermore, if those heavy energy projectors were swapped with a ballistic missile launch system, they would get submarines capable of launching up to 24 monstrous submarine-launched ballistic missiles carrying ten warheads each, allowing them to strike far within Hell’s territory. The desire to deliver wide-area destruction from beyond the enemy’s reach ultimately drove the Typhoon’s construction and deployment ahead of other concepts, such as cruise missile submarines or attack submarines.

  “But since we’re not being ordered to sortie on a combat mission, I’d like to believe that the situation is still under control.”

  “Yes, I hope so.”

  “One thing that is certain is that the number of exercises is going to increase.”

  In addition to the already intense drill schedule, the Milishial military units stationed at Tarpian Rock frequently held lectures, research sessions, and exercises for the officers, many of whom were young. Taking advantage of the Cauldrons to provide them with realistic simulations across the empty Hyperborean Circle, these activities were intended to expose them to simulated combat scenarios using their Neoteric weaponry, helping them understand the risks and consequences of reckless decision-making. Command also assigned them research tasks, encouraging them to analyze and better comprehend the evolving situation. As a result, the officers were constantly engaged in study, and the base gradually earned the nickname “University Archipelago.”

  However, while these programs improved the officers’ capabilities, the additional responsibilities piled on top of their normal duties, combined with the strain of being stationed far from home, began to wear them down. The fatigue subtly heightened their aggressiveness, a change that command had started to notice. This was also the reason why the amenities located on Tarpian Rock’s underground sections were incredibly luxurious, enough to make the Zeroth Magic Fleet envious.

  “Hmm…”

  “What’s the matter, Kyrie Yponavarch?”

  The captain asked Tachyon at the sound of his humming.

  “It might not necessarily turn out this way, but I suspect there will be a significant movement involving the Tarpian Rock detachment in the near future.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes. The northern Grameus Continent lies within the Hyperborean Circle, doesn’t it? That landmass is known as the so-called demonic continent. According to the White Lotus Leader’s vision, within the next two decades the demons there will become active and begin pushing southward into civilized lands. Now that we’re stationed here, shouldn’t we try to prevent that even from ever occurring?”

  “So you’re suggesting that we might eventually be deployed to eliminate the threat on the demonic continent.”

  “Precisely. I don’t know exactly how it will unfold, but that’s what my gut feeling is telling me.”

  “Well, that would certainly be a reasonable course of action. Perhaps the higher command will wait until we’ve built up enough forces before expanding our operations.”

  ............

  Within the base headquarters, a different conversation was also unfolding between the base commander and the Holy Empire’s de facto submarine fleet commander.

  “Plans are underway to establish a fleet command dedicated to operating Neoteric submarines.”

  “…Not the Advanced Naval Training Command?”

  “No, this will be an entirely new organization. My unit will continue operating pre-Cauldron U-boats and will serve as the face of our submarine force when the time comes to reveal them to the world. In time, it will eventually become a genuine training unit for submariners.”

  “Huh, I see… Yes, certainly, the new submarines operate on vastly different doctrines than the U-boats.”

  Because of limited power-generation capacity and inadequate battery technology, early operational doctrine assumed that submarines would dive only when attacking. Therefore, the first capabilities demanded of them were the ability to catch up with merchant ships on the surface and to accompany fleets. Underwater, they were required only to possess enough capability to hide and launch attacks. Annonrial submarines on the other hand were somewhat in the hazy transition between the U-boats and Neoteric submarines due to their better mana power cell enabled them to maintain their Absolute Kill Zone while patrolling underwater, while also possessing a hull form similar to the conventional U-boats.

  It was confirmed that the Neoteric submarine designs would be divided into three major types. The first consisted of ballistic missile submarines (HGU), whose strategic role centered on carrying and launching submarine-launched ballistic missiles. The second category was attack submarines (GU), designed for a wide range of tactical missions such as destroying surface ships and other submarines, launching cruise missiles, and conducting intelligence gathering. The third type was the cruise missile submarine (CGU), which shared many of the attack submarine’s roles but emphasized its capacity to carry and deploy a far greater number of cruise missiles than a typical attack submarine.

  Among these, attack submarines most closely resembled the mission profile of conventional U-boats, or more accurately, it was an evolution of the concept. Even so, the distinctions between these categories were not always rigid. In practice, even submarines such as the Pattern 941 Typhoon units were still capable of undertaking quite the same tasks as the other two types with the right weapons, despite the HGU designation, illustrating that the boundaries between these classifications were far less defined than they initially appeared.

  Alongside the Typhoon, officially presented to the Emperor as a class of submarine heavy-hitters capable of hiding beneath the polar ice caps and launching strikes through them, the new submarine command would also incorporate several other designs slated for construction. These included the Pattern 955 Borei HGUs, a significantly smaller counterpart to the Typhoon intended to supplement operations within the Hyperborean Circle while serving as the primary ballistic missile submarine in other regions; the Pattern 885 Yasen CGUs; and the Pattern 971 Akula GUs. The use of Rusalkan-language names for these early Neoteric submarines had a rather simple origin: most of the sailors who volunteered for the new submarine command happened to be ethnic Rusalkans. Over time, this circumstance helped establish a tradition in which Rusalkan sailors became closely associated with submarine service and were widely recognized as the Imperial Navy’s submariners.

  “Anyway, to support the establishment of the new unit, it’s clear that this military base is expected to expand in the future,” the submarine fleet commander spoke again.

  “Well, that’s obvious enough. But the archipelago is already rather cramped.”

  “The construction doesn’t necessarily have to take place above sea level. The underwater realm is, after all, the submarines’ domain.”

  “I see—so the higher-ups are considering building underwater facilities?”

  “There are at least a few thinkers in the Navy Department who proposed the idea. Everyone’s still trying to adapt to the situation, after all.”

  Part of the reasoning stemmed from the lack of a suitable location for establishing a ‘conventional’ submarine base, while another part was driven by the desire to remain as invisible as possible. The Boreas Archipelago consisted of six islands, only three of which were large enough to support significant military installations. The remaining islands were little more than rocky outcrops that served as nesting grounds for native wildlife, and the Holy Milishial Empire’s military had no intention of disturbing them. The other landmasses within the region were either unsuitable to house a port at all (Hyperborea in the North Pole), not yet secured (Grameus), or deemed too visible to the others (Northern Philades).

  At present, only the largest island, Tarpian Rock, has undergone significant development. It housed the main headquarters, along with the base’s Cauldron facility, surface fleet anchorages, an airship port, and an airfield. Meanwhile, the islands of Gemon and Tullian remained uninhabited, though plans were already in place to construct military facilities there in the future. However, these plans were focused on housing and supporting the aerial fleet rather than submarines.

  As a result, in order to maximize the limited land available, the planners opted to develop facilities beneath the sea from the outset. This would involve expanding JMSC Tarpian Rock with extensive underground sections and establishing underwater Cauldrons dedicated to the construction and maintenance of submarines.

  By the arrival of August, JMSC Tarpian Rock had become the homeport for the Navy’s reorganized Northern Aerial Fleet Command and the newly formed Northern Submarine Force. It also served as an anchorage for the Imperial Guard Fleet’s three active Strike Groups.

  ............

  After having their circumstances explained, the men and women manning the displaced 069 were assigned living quarters in an underground residential sector beneath Tarpian Rock, as the surface above was densely packed with Milishial military facilities. The level of comfort provided made it obvious that the Holy Empire’s military was making a conscious effort not to give the defectors the impression that they were being detained. If anything, they might have been trying a bit too hard.

  Such were the thoughts of Lieutenant Eber Brunmar, the executive officer of submarine 069 and a member of the second rotation who had not participated in the latest sortie.

  Still under construction, the base’s underground complex was shaping up to be quite a big maze. Well-lit corridors marked with letters and numbers seemed to stretch endlessly, intersecting with one another as if deliberately designed to disorient anyone walking through them. The planned underground sector was so vast that vehicles were required to travel between zones, and a rapid transit system using magnetic levitation trains, a technology unknown in the Annonrial Empire, had already been installed.

  The defectors were shown in full view the frightening, mysterious technology in the Holy Milishial Empire’s possession, which enabled them to erect structures of this scale in astonishingly short timeframes. Yet they seemed perhaps a little too reliant on automation, as the base was expanding faster than the personnel intended to operate it could be stationed, leaving the development somewhat unbalanced. As a result, only a handful of key sectors were bustling with activity, while much of the underground complex remained empty, giving the place an almost liminal atmosphere.

  Personally, Brunmar found no problems with his accommodation. However, the situation of his family weighed heavily on his mind. Even if he couldn’t visit them in person… he at least wanted to know how they were doing.

  And then, that day came.

  While he was in his quarters, several visitors knocked on his door. The faces staring back at him from the other side caught him slightly off guard.

  “Captain?”

  The 069’s captain stood there with a faint smile, three individuals in Milishial military uniforms positioned behind him.

  “Good day, Lieutenant Brunmar. Sorry to disturb your vacation, but these folks here say they have something they’d like to talk to you about. So, mind if we come in?” the Lieutenant Commander asked in a light tone.

  Brunmar blinked once, his surprise lingering for only a moment before he straightened up.

  “Of course, sir. Please—come in,” he said, stepping aside and opening the door wider. The small group filed into the room one by one. The Milishial personnel gave polite nods as they entered, while the Lieutenant Commander came in last, closing the door quietly behind them.

  The defectors’ living quarters were reasonably sized, modeled after the standardized housing configuration without discrimination. The room consisted of a sleeping area with a neatly made bed against one wall, a compact desk with a terminal built into its surface, and a small seating space with a table and two chairs. A narrow wardrobe stood beside the door, and soft white lighting recessed into the ceiling gave the space a hotel-like atmosphere. It wasn’t luxurious by any means, but it was spacious enough for one person to live without feeling confined.

  Right now, however, with five people standing inside, the room felt noticeably more crowded.

  The Milishial personnel exchanged brief glances before a man took the offered seat, while the rest remained standing behind him. The Lieutenant Commander himself leaned casually against the desk as if this were an entirely ordinary visit. Brunmar remained standing for the moment, his eyes shifting between his superior and the unfamiliar officers.

  “First of all, allow me to introduce myself. I am Commander Ignacio Zaragoza of the Holy Milishial Imperial Navy’s Intelligence Bureau…”

  Brunmar regarded the man as he spoke. In many ways, the officer appeared ordinary—at least by Milishial and Annonrial standards of beauty—with no particularly distinctive facial features. Still, the fact that someone of his position had come to see Brunmar personally suggested there was more to his visit than a simple introduction.

  “What can I do for you today?” Brunmar asked cautiously.

  “How are you today, Lieutenant?”

  “There’s no particular issue, so I’m alright. That much I can say.”

  “I see,” Commander Zaragoza nodded pensively before shrugging. “Well, to avoid wasting your time, I’ll go straight to the topic.”

  Brunmar reflected inwardly that the Milishial people certainly liked getting straight to the point, judging from their previous interactions. For them, forcing their way through problems seemed almost like a specialty. Whether this blunt approach was part of their natural disposition or something the White Lotus had instilled in them for the sake of efficiency, however, he couldn’t really tell.

  Commander Zaragoza raised a hand slightly, and one of the Naval Intelligence Bureau standing behind him stepped forward. The man carried a thin gray folder produced from a bag tucked beneath his arm. Without a word, he handed it to the Commander before returning to his position.

  Accepting it with a quiet nod, resting the folder on his knee, Zaragoza’s fingers tapped lightly against the cover for a brief moment, as if organizing his thoughts. Then, he opened the folder and glanced down.

  “Let’s see… Lieutenant Eber Brunmar of the Annonrial Imperial Navy. Executive Officer of submarine 069.”

  Brunmar stood a little straighter out of habit, though he said nothing.

  “From your previous interview, we know that your domicile is registered in the town of Trinil, Adoraim Commandery, South Illemese Province. You are married. One wife, three sons. Your eldest son currently serves as an officer in the Annonrial Imperial Air Force.”

  A faint unease crept into Brunmar’s chest. Why bring this up now?

  His thoughts began drifting toward less pleasant possibilities, and a subtle dryness emerged in his throat.

  “As you may have already guessed, we took the liberty of reciting the status of your family. Why? That’s because our operatives have made contact with them. I’m pleased to inform you that they are safe and no harm has come to them.”

  The Commander went on.

  “Of course, I understand that words alone may not be sufficient.”

  He slipped a photograph from inside the folder and placed it on top before extending the entire thing toward Brunmar.

  “If you would like evidence, Lieutenant. A recent photograph.”

  For a brief moment after accepting the folder with both hands, Brunmar simply stared at it.

  At the photograph deliberately placed on top of the folder.

  It was clearly taken from a distant hidden place, but there was no mistaking them.

  His wife stood near the gate of their home. Yelena’s hair was pulled back loosely as she leaned down to straighten the collar of their youngest son Loran’s shirt. The boy stood obediently while clutching his backpack. And beside them stood Darcshield, holding a schoolbag slung over one shoulder. The photograph captured that exact moment.

  A sharp breath escaped him before he could stop it, and a quiet, uneven sound escaped him.

  “You may take your time, Lieutenant.”

  “…Thank you,” Brunmar said with a trembling voice.

  Commander Zaragoza inclined his head.

  “To ensure their safety, we have assigned an operative to keep watch over them. Discreetly, of course. Your family will not be aware of the arrangement. Circumstances have forced both you and them to endure this separation, but I understand that the grief is not something we can simply dismiss. In time, we would like to see that separation come to an end.”

  The words made Brunmar look up again.

  “The Annonrial Empire is a regime that has caused immense suffering both within and beyond its borders, all while deceiving its subjects with a false promise. Our goal is to dismantle that system as thoroughly as possible, and if possible, to do so without drowning the two continents in unnecessary bloodshed. When that day comes… we would very much prefer that you be able to go home.”

  It all began on the morning when Father Hose was mysteriously murdered. Just the day before, Loran had been excited about an assignment topic, where he had proudly chosen to write about his father and his eldest brother. But soon afterward, a series of strange events began to unfold. Amid the confusion, the news that the submarine his father had served aboard had gone missing, possibly lost with all hands, was effectively buried. Because of the possession incident that had occurred during the news program, the family only learned about the disappearance some time later.

  From that moment on, their lives changed rapidly, as if the warmth they once knew had never existed. Darcshield managed to endure it, but Loran was still young, his mind fragile. He began sneaking out of the house and sitting idly on the embankment beside a grassy roadside field, staring into nothingness until his brother eventually came to bring him home.

  Why? How did our family turn out like this? Those questions kept circling endlessly through Loran’s mind. One sweltering day, as he sat lost in those thoughts, he suddenly felt someone watching him. When he lifted his head, he saw the faint silhouette of a young woman shimmering through the heat haze, the same woman he had once glimpsed at the police station on the day Father Hose died.

  After that, she would often appear somewhere within Loran’s field of vision, always keeping a certain distance. She never approached or spoke, simply watching him from afar. In time, she even began offering him a faint smile that seemed to ease the pain in his heart. To Loran, she felt almost like a guardian angel.

  Not long after, Loran began suffering from nightmares. His mother and brother tried to comfort him, but the dreams grew increasingly vivid, each one replaying the unbearable pain of losing a beloved family member so suddenly. One evening, while sitting on the same embankment at sunset and waiting for Darcshield who was unusually late that day, Loran finally broke down. Quiet sobs escaped him. The young boy had been pushed far beyond his limit.

  And then…

  He felt a gentle warmth and lifted his face. The woman was sitting beside him.

  Without saying a word, she softly wiped the tears from his cheeks with a white handkerchief. His eyes stung slightly, yet the sight of her gentle smile somehow erased even that pain. That was all that happened that day. Soon afterward, Darcshield could be seen running toward him in the distance. When Loran turned back again, the woman had already vanished.

  From that day forward, Loran grew increasingly curious about her. Whenever he encountered the woman again, he would take her hand, and each time he left her presence feeling just a little less burdened. Before long, he found himself searching for her whenever he had the chance.

  Then, eventually, the day came.

  Loran left the house—ostensibly to play, though in truth he simply sat on the river embankment until sunset.

  And once again, the woman appeared.

  This time, sitting beside him, she spoke for the first time.

  “You’ve been like this for quite a while now… Do you want to talk about it?”

  Her words surprised Loran, yet they also brought him immense relief. Before he realized it, the words began spilling from his mouth.

  “…I lost my dad.”