Milishial News Network, Cartalpas, Holy Milishial Empire — April 22, 2022

  “…and three, two, one, go!”

  “Welcome to the World Leadership Conference, viewers of Elysia! I’m Bronze Letiam—”

  “—and I’m Alana Forlen—”

  “—and on behalf of the Milishial News Network, where we pride ourselves at providing news almost as fast as it happens, we’ll be covering for the next seven days every major development in this historic event, this meeting between the greatest and most influential superpowers of Elysia! With the unprecedented arrival of two new nations to our world—both now considered equals amongst the likes of Mu and the Holy Milishial Empire itself—and their actions in the following two years having forever changed our beloved civilization, Elysia now looks on in anticipation as they join their partners of the Central World in charting a new path for the Concert of Elysia!”

  Forlen sagely nodded, turning to the camera to continue her co-host’s introduction. “As per tradition for all prior thirty-six Conferences in recorded history, the participating nations have all arrived in Cartalpas with their finest and most prestigious fleets as a symbol of their rightful positions as the true wielders of power in our world. Before anything else, however, the Holy Milishial Empire has announced a special air show to commemorate the continuation of our beloved Concert—the peace and order amongst all nations that has lasted since the fall of the Ancient Sorcerous Empire itself. Oh, and here we are; the event appears to be starting!”

  From across the harbour, the crackle of wind and magic announced the arrival of the Milishials—a formation of Alpha-3 fighters, the most powerful aircraft known to exist in the Central World until now, soared above Cartalpas to the cheers of the Elysians below. The roar of trumpets and symphonious strings from a massive orchestra standing next to the docks echoed across the city as the Milishial anthem sent a surge of patriotic and nationalistic fervour amongst the crowds—Alana found herself resting her hand upon her heart in pride, witnessing the colorful display before her.

  “What an inspiring moment for our nation and for Elysia! Truly, the Holy Milishial Empire cannot be matched in our penchant for spectacle and wonder!”

  Beside her, Bronze grinned eagerly. “Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet. Look, over the horizon!”

  As the Alpha-3s danced in the skies, five more planes approached. Their appearance, while still somewhat familiar, carried a remarkable difference to their counterparts—their sharp wings were swept backwards, their fuselage smooth and curvilinear and the bright blue and yellow tails a clear indication of their origin—and the sky itself seemed to explode with sound as they shot past their predecessors, arcing around to encircle their fellow fighters with a flurry of magical flares. From below, a few well-informed Milishials began to gasp in recognition and excitement as hope began to grow for the first time in several years that their civilization could still emerge as the premier civilization of Elysia. Cries of joy rang out amongst the denizens of Cartalpas: “Elenya! Elenya! Elenya!”

  “Unless my eyes are deceiving me,” Forlen began, “it appears that Captain Elenya írim? of the celebrated Valar Squadron has arrived! But what are those Heavenly Flying Ships?!”

  Letiam loudly cleared his throat, drawing the attention of his cohost and the countless people watching or listening to their broadcast. “People of Elysia, may I introduce to you: the Elpacio Alpha-4 Fighter! The culmination of over two years of research into newly-uncovered remains of ancient Pal Aurora fighters, the Alpha-4 is the latest step into unlocking the secrets of the Ancient Sorcerous Empire—and with new developments into the field of air combat, I can now proudly announce that the Holy Milishial Empire can now deploy Heavenly Flying Ships capable of breaching the sound barrier, its maximum speed being over one thousand and four hundred kilometers per hour. And with its magical homing projectiles capable of tracking air and ground targets with the same precision as an Osean missile, the Alpha-4 is truly one of a kind, more than capable of defending the Concert of Elysia for a new generation!”

  Even as the Cartalpans continued to boisterously cheer, the aged host knew all too well that he had omitted the fact that said “newly-uncovered remains” had been brought from Selatapura following the Annorial incursion into the Osean continent over two years ago. That said, it was no secret that even the more lucid elements of the Imperial government in Runepolis held no desire of admitting the involvement of the Oseans in the Alpha-4 Project, for fear of further bolstering their eastern scientific counterparts at the Empire’s expense—the development of new planes such as the ones above Cartalpas was a frantic attempt by the Milishials at closing the increasingly wide technological gap between themselves and the other superpowers of Elysia, one that was gradually becoming apparent to the rest of the New World despite their attempts at obfuscation and bluster.

  But even with the Milishials currently falling behind in one front, one more trump card still remained—their self-proclaimed role as the defender of Elysia against the long-awaited return of the Ancient Sorcerous Empire. A distant rumble began to grow louder with each passing second, the thrumming of raw magical power reverberating across the city of Cartalpas as two massive circular vessels approached the harbour—

  Alana gasped in surprise. “Pal Chimerae!”

  Aboard Unit 01 and Unit 02, Meteos Roguerider and Wahlman Ethlon shared a grin as their respective ships floated gracefully but ominously above the main districts of Cartalpas, several flights of Alpha-4s on each flank as their escorts. Both researchers had expressed their reservations to the Emperor about the deployment of the ancient (and irreplaceable) superweapons for what essentially amounted to a glorified propaganda display, but the ancient ruler had been emphatic about his request for their presence—and as they carefully navigated their vessels along their arranged flight path, the two colleagues could see the logic behind Milishial’s reasoning.

  The Annorial Empire, from what the rest of the New World was aware, was the only other civilization known to be actively fielding weaponry of the Ancient Sorcerous Empire. For every other nation, the ability to not only possess but maintain and fully utilise the archaic monuments of old civilizations was nothing short of astounding, a clear sign of cultural superiority beyond even the wildest dreams of delusional kings and emperors—and one that the Holy Milishial Empire held no compunctions about displaying to all and sundry. Countless eyes turned to the powerful weaponry positioned along the circular exterior of the Chimerae, each blast more than guaranteed to turn anything from the vaulted La Kasami to maybe even the Grade Atlastar into floating scrap metal. Folk tales and ancient archives painted vivid yet brutal imagery of entire nations and cities burnt to the ground with a single vessel—could the Milishials be capable of doing the same if sufficiently prodded by its foes?

  From the halls of the Conference, Minister Phiam smirked self-assuredly as the forces of the Holy Milishial Empire accomplished their mission and began to return to their respective bases. His nation’s reputation, diminished as it may have been as the result of recent events, remained as strong as ever—the Concert of Elysia would continue for the foreseeable future.

  Time to see what the other superpowers of the New World had to offer…

  The spectacle that had been the Milishial air show not only reaffirmed the superiority of their magical might to much of its audience, but ultimately made much of the fleets of the other attendees of the World Leadership Conference appear quaint in comparison.

  The wooden warships and wyvern carriers of the Torquia Kingdom alongside the vessels of the Agartha Kingdom and the Pandora Greater Magic Principality passed through the entrance to the harbour without incident, Forlen and Bronze going through the descriptions of each ship and the respective nations’ Cultural Fairs with professional perfunctoriness. Some keen eyes noted odd similarities in appearance and technological makeup of these fleets to the once-vaulted Parpaldian Imperial Navy—indeed, several enterprising former military officers and technical experts had since dispersed across the New World with their invaluable knowledge once the collapse of Eshirant had been all but confirmed—but with the age of the Wyvern clearly entering its twilight years, most observers present appeared more keen on learning more about the scientifically-minded nations that would soon be arriving in their wake.

  Four participating nations did draw some considerable attention, however.

  Seeing an unusual fleet approach from the distance, Bronze squinted his eyes in confusion. “I believe I’m seeing Muan vessels enter the harbour—but aren’t they supposed to be arriving later?”

  Alana paused in thought as the banner of the unknown fleet became more visible to the people in Cartalpas: a yellow diagonal line separating two blue triangles (one with a distinctly Osean shade, another more similar to that of the IUN flag) and a pair of white stars. “That flag…ladies and gentlemen, I believe we may be seeing the fleet of the Independent States of Philades approaching! A new nation comprising the former colonies of the now-defunct Parpaldia Empire, it appears their influence in the Philades continent has grown sufficiently for the Holy Milishial Empire to offer them an honorary position in the Conference itself…”

  The Cartalpans looked on in befuddlement as a motley of Muan dreadnoughts, Parpaldian ships-of-the-line, and Altaran schooners all bearing the Coalition flag sailed into the port, several flights of Marin fighters purchased from Otatheit providing an aerial escort before carefully turning to land towards what appeared to be an old cruiser repurposed and refurbished into an aircraft carrier—a bizarre mishmash of ancient and modern technology cobbled together, it was perhaps a fitting symbol of the unusual union of nations and peoples formed from the ashes of the tyrannical Parpaldians, if nothing else. Their capabilities still put them on par with their other regional counterparts however, and the Philadeans ultimately received the same typical fanfare given to the rest of the participating members of the Conference.

  Carefully re-examining the list of confirmed attendees, Forlen blinked in surprise. “Letiam, am I reading this correctly? According to our schedule, the next fleet is…from the Kingdom of Leifor?”

  The Milishial reporter’s query was met with widespread confusion amongst the crowd. It was common knowledge that the entirety of Leifor had been wiped out by the Gra Valkans not long after their arrival in Elysia, and tales did exist of a supposed Leiforian fleet that had escaped to the Conshal Islands in the aftermath—but even if the latter was true, surely the fact that the Kingdom itself had long since ceased to exist counted as grounds for it not to be included as a member of the Conference?

  To his credit, Bronze nodded understandingly to his colleague’s concerns. “That is correct, Alana—a surviving member of the Leiforian Royal Family has recently established a government-in-exile with the backing of the Milishial and Muan governments; as a show of support for his cause, he and his fleet will be attending the Conference and addressing the delegations in a special session. But first, may I introduce to you: the Fleet of Free Leifor!”

  With near-instant precision, the Milishial orchestra began to play the anthem of the Leifor Kingdom as a dozen colourful ships-of-the-line entered the harbour; their ornate exteriors and elaborate trimmings shone brightly against the clear skies, captivating the audience with their enchanting allure as the sailors aboard stood to attention with colorful attires reserved only for the most prestigious sailors of what had once been the second most powerful nation within the Mu continent itself. Its intended effect was immediate; the crowds within Cartalpas began to cheer as a sight long thought to be lost forever returned to the public eye with triumphant applause, a great and success start for the Leiforians and their Muan and Milishial backers in what would undoubtedly be a long and uphill battle to gather support for the reclamation of the Homeland.

  From the main deck of a La Kasami-class battleship gifted by the Muans and now positioned at the centre of the formation as Leifor’s flagship, however, the Duke’s attention remained focused elsewhere—his eyes panned towards the rear of the fleet, where the other nations awaited their turn to make entry to Cartalpas. The future Emperor knew winning the hearts and minds of Elysia was one thing, but securing the aid of the mysterious peoples to the east would be another thing altogether…

  The blast of a foghorn shattered the calm that had emerged from the passing of the Leiforian fleet—the Magikareich Community had arrived.

  Several onlookers paused in confusion, expecting wooden warships akin to that of the Leiforians or the Parpaldians—but the Magikaregians had arrived on ironclad vessels that rivalled even the Muan dreadnoughts in size and weaponry. Their cannons appeared to be a mixture of Gra Valkan mechanical barrels and the traditional magic-based guns fielded prior to the arrival of the Yggdrans; the Muans and Milishials present gaped at the unexpected sight.

  “Viewers, it appears that the Magikaregians have brought vessels almost akin to that of the La Kasami,” Bronze declared with no small amount of surprise, “a significant development and one that could reshape relations within the Second Civilization Area in the near future! Has Gra Valkas managed to bring them to their side of the ongoing power rivalry with the Muans?”

  Reaching for a piece of paper being handed to her by a member of the MNN news crew, Alana quickly read through its contents before turning to face the camera. “We’ve just received some new developments from our correspondents in Otatheit: Magikaregia’s fleet appears to be composed of refitted variants of older Gra Valkan battleships and dreadnoughts—the smaller ships are what have been designated by both Ragna and Avest as the K?nig-class battleship, while the flagship of the fleet before us is known as the Bayern-class…”

  The seasoned reporter continued to provide the technical details behind the armaments and speed of the new ships with neutral clarity honed by years of experience, her more irritable colleague struggling to maintain his composure as the Milishials’ image of dominance—as strongly as it had been projected to the people of Elysia less than an hour ago—began to fade in the face of new competition. Even before the arrival of Gra Valkas and the Easterners, many analysts and researchers had speculated on how a potential conflict between the magic-based ships of Runepolis and the more scientifically-minded fleets of Otatheit would have panned out; the final outcome produced as a result of several reputable simulations and mock battles was ultimately inconclusive, each test coming down to the individual actions of the commanding officers on either side rather than the technological edge that the Muans and Milishials had hoped to possess. It was a humbling thought and a source of considerable concern for the leading minds of the Central World—and with more civilizations threatening to become on par with not just Mu but the “shining pearl of the races” itself, it was obvious that the supposed premier superpower would only see its influence further diminish without some kind of immediate action on part of the Emperor and his government.

  As the Magicaregian fleet sailed past, Bronze quickly moved to steer things back on track. “Well, it appears that the Kingdom of Emor is next! Witness the glorious Wind Dragons and their mighty ships—more powerful and faster than anything else out there!”

  A sizable fleet of carriers and escorts sailed past the crowds, a dozen dragons sweeping over the city with a stream of magical lights sparkling in their wake. As the inheritors of the raw power of the Infidragoon Kingdom of old, the Emorians wielded great creatures that not even the Muans and Milishials could hope to match with their own aircraft (ancient stories even told of Wind Dragons and even one Lightning Flame Dragon having destroyed a Pal Chimera and critically damaged a Pal Cowne during a pivotal battle against the Ancient Sorcerous Empire)—with their prestigious heritage and their formidable magical abilities, the delegation from Emor was received with acclaim and cheers as truly befitting one of the most important superpowers of not only the Central World but of Elysia as a whole.

  Forlen nodded approvingly at the sight. “A fitting welcome for our Emorian neighbours! And now, up next, we have—”

  The skies unexpectedly crackled as a flight of jets shot above the exiting Wind Dragons, the very air warping into miniature clouds that coated the surfaces of the Pal Aurorae as the Annorial Empire made its dramatic entrance. Not expecting to be so blatantly intruded upon amidst the aftermath of their airshow, the Dragonfolk pilots loudly swore and briefly struggled to regain control of their flights as both they and their beasts were nearly flung out of the sky in the Annorials’ wake—from below, the Cartalpans gasped in shock as the magical fighters swooped back and were joined by two more identical squadrons in a disturbing show of force.

  Despite themselves, Forlen and Bronze paled in horror at the sight. Another member of the film crew loudly exclaimed, “The Annorials have fighters from the Ancient Sorcerous Empire?!”

  The three squadrons circled above the harbour, their grey and white aggressor camouflage and their red tails providing a sharp contrast to the comparatively archaic biplanes of the Philadeans or even the Wind Dragons of the Emorians. For each flight, one of three names were brightly emblazoned on every aircraft’s tail: Enlil, Inanna, and Nammu—for those familiar with the history of the Dragonfolk and their Infidragoon ancestors, their eyes widened in recognition at the implied message: not even the most powerful superpowers could consider themselves untouchable with their monuments to their own glory, or else risk being consigned to oblivion like those before them.

  Slowly and carefully, Bronze began to speak. “Our next guest is the Annorial Empire; until recently, these southerners were believed to be a rudimentary nation of peoples with ancestral ties to the Ancient Sorcerous Empire—but it appears that they have since been able to develop and utilise Pal Aurorae fighters in combat like their ancestors. Perhaps the reports from Selatapura over two years ago were indeed true—”

  “Orichalcum-Class magic battleships are coming into the harbour! But…they’re not Milishial…they’re Annorial!”

  The aged host froze. “What?!”

  Five battleships sailed into Cartalpas, all carrying the black and red flags of the Annorial Empire; their armaments easily dwarfed those currently equipped on their Milishial counterparts, to say nothing of the speed at which the vessels entered the port. There was no mistaking the winged sailors standing at attention on the various battle stations and decks, nor the sizeable missiles and cannons all seemingly aimed forward towards the other Elysian fleets—if Emperor Milishial had intended to reassure the peoples of Elysia of the strength of the Central World, the Annorials had very clearly reminded them as well of their weaknesses.

  The disturbingly modern fleet was a sharp contrast to the medieval frigates and triremes of past Conferences, leading many to wonder: why exactly had Magicaregia chosen to hide their true strength for so long? But the stream of revelations was far from over: a distinctly familiar rumble began to be felt across the coastal city as all eyes turned from the Pal Orichalcumae and towards the horizon—

  Screams erupted across the harbour.

  Five Pal Chimerae streamed forwards in the wake of their naval counterparts, their black and red Annorial colors visible for all to see—and just like the Orichalcumae, their appearances were far more sleek and advanced than even the motley duo that the Milishials had been able to deploy to the Conference. Compared to the sheer technological abilities of their southern neighbours, the so-called premier superpower of Elysia now seemed antiquated, insufficient, even insignificant against what was now approaching before their very eyes; if the Annorials did in fact intend to succeed their Sorcerous ancestors in dominating the known world, then perhaps—the Milishials were forced to truly recognize for the very first time—such an astounding goal could actually be very much feasible. To drive the point home, three more flights of Pal Aurorae swept past their larger vessels, a pointed display of power that had all but succeeded in its aim in stirring the superpowers of the Central World from their complacency.

  From his office in Runepolis, Emperor Milishial silently fumed as he watched his nation’s newfound rivals dock at port, recognising the challenge that now lay before him. Reaching for a mannacomm, he opened a channel to his secretary.

  “Yes, Your Excellency?”

  “Inform Ministers Phiam and Barrault that I wish to speak to them at once.”

  Slowly, the orchestra began to play a new tune—with its distinctive opening three notes, the attendees present immediately recognised the melody as the anthem of Mu. All eyes panned from the Annorials to the entrance to the harbour: five La Kasamis briskly steamed forward, escorting a singular battleship with three forward turrets and a slew of smaller guns and AA weapons along its rear, to say nothing about what looked suspiciously like a series of rudimentary rockets and torpedoes positioned along its flanks. Bronze nodded approvingly at the new vessel, the presenter (like many of his Milishial colleagues) sharing a grudging respect for the Muans’ dedication to science-based technology.

  “So, it appears that the rumors of a new Muan battleship are true! This is what I’m fairly certain is the new La Solne, the next-generation mechanical ship for the Royal Muan Navy; the MNN has received unverified reports that the arrival of the Gra Valkans and recent joint ventures between Otatheit and Oured have helped accelerate the development of more advanced ships to eventually replace the La Kasami, and perhaps this stunning debut might provide further illumination into what is clearly very much a still-developing situation!”

  “And right above us,” Forlen added with no small amount of anticipation, “the newest fighters of the Royal Muan Air Force are about to make their first public appearance as well! Over two years ago, the Otatheit government officially established a new Fighter Development Program in cooperation with what has since become the internationally-recognised plane production company Mead Industries, refurbishing decommissioned Osean aircraft for civilian and military use. With customers from Hinomawari to Sonal and even Free Leifor, Mu has not only been able to completely revamp its air force but also further expand its economic influence across the Second Civilization Area—undoubtedly a wise move with the Gra Valkans spreading their empire across the region through both trade and military force, I might add…”

  Bronze nodded sagely as the sound of jets not unlike those of the Pal Aurorae and Alpha-4s began to grow louder. “Well, here they come—let the Muan air show begin!”

  Captain Andel Rubiso glanced down at the city below from his aircraft, nodding to himself before turning to his wingwoman. “Avril, it’s time. Give the word!”

  “Roger!”

  Behind Rubiso on the WSO seat, the Osean mechanic-turned-businesswoman reached for a radio and barked at the other Muans in the formation. “All right, boys, listen up! You all know your designated roles and what’s expected out of each and every one of you—stick to the plan, and don’t try anything stupid! I’ve already drilled into your heads a million times what it takes to keep each and every one of these planes running, and I don’t think any single one of us here wants to be reassigned to the maintenance crew for a month again, do we?!”

  Rubiso and Mead’s fellow pilots were quick to respond, “No, ma’am!”

  “That’s what I want to hear! Gratis Team, Alue Team, Otatheit Team, execute!”

  Ten small fighters began a rapid nosedive from the clouds above Cartalpas, their shining metallic exteriors glowing brightly from the reflection of the morning sun. The rushing air weaved seamlessly across the planes’ swept wings or was forced through the engine intake at the nose of the aircraft and out from the exhausts in the rear—the skies roared with sound as the aircraft shot towards the harbour, only to pull up at the last second in an audacious show of airmanship, launching jets of water into the air as Gratis and Alue Squadrons began to weave in between the La Kasamis and La Solne with breathtaking precision and grace.

  Forlen and Bronze nodded approvingly as the crowds cheered at the aerial display, the latter turning towards the camera once again.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, the Royal Muan Air Force has arrived! These new aircraft are known as the F-86M Marin Sabres, capable of reaching over a thousand kilometers per hour with groundbreaking jet technology developed by Mead Industries—through science and fully mechanical technology, the Muans have successfully developed aircraft capable of going toe-to-toe with its counterparts across the Second Civilization Area. Perhaps they might actually give even our state-of-the-art Alpha-4s a challenge, perhaps?”

  “Wait,” Forlen interrupted her colleague, “it appears that the air show isn’t finished just yet—look over there!”

  Five two-seater jet fighters shot down towards the harbour to join their smaller counterparts, their partially-folded wings slicing through the air to form sharp lines in their wake. From the front, Captain Rubiso and Avril Mead grinned as their wingmen circled and wove behind them in a seamless pattern of contrails and coloured smoke, the black and white of Mu’s flag forming a circular loop akin to a double helix—the Cartalpans gasped in awe at the sight, and applauded.

  From the corner of the booth, an MNN crew member passed Forlen a note for her to read. “Thank you. We’ve just received some new information about these new aircraft: the Muans have designated these as the F-4M Marin Phantoms. These jet-based planes are claimed to have a maximum speed of over 2,370 kilometers per hour—”

  Bronze gasped. “More than twice the speed of our Alpha-4s?! Impossible!”

  “—and are the primary aircraft of Otatheit Squadron, composed of the Royal Muan Air Force’s most elite pilots of the now-defunct 23rd Mu Air Squadron. Due to restrictions imposed by the Osean government regarding the transfer of their technology, however, only a small number of F-4Ms are currently in service pending the further advancement of Mu’s fighter industry—but this is undoubtedly a significant development for the power balance between the superpowers of Elysia…”

  The Milishials’ show of force was all but forgotten as Mu slowly began to supplant them as the premier superpower of what was considered to be the old guard—with the Gra Valkans supposedly wielding ships capable of outfighting Runepolis’s Pal Orichalcumae and even the Annorials clearly displaying a far greater mastery of the Ancient Sorcerous Empire’s superweapons than even the supposed “shining pearl of the races”, the countless people either present in Cartalpas or watching from across the New World began to see the Muans as a new potential source of hope against the threat posed by the mysterious and dangerous empires from beyond the Civilization Areas. Yet some observers who recognised the origin of these strange new planes began to wonder as well: if these were considered by the Oseans as sufficiently outdated to be handed over to the Muans, then what exactly were they capable of wielding in comparison? Could—if the Lighthouse Conference from over two years ago was any indication—the mysterious peoples of the east possess planes and aircraft far more powerful than even those of the Annorials—if not even the Ancient Sorcerous Empire itself?

  But before the Oseans could answer these questions, however, there was one more nation who had yet to make their entrance.

  The thundering of trumpets announced the arrival of the Gra Valkas Empire to the World Leadership Conference for the very first time, a dark ensemble of low notes contrasting with a triumphant refrain symbolising a thousand-year-legacy finally made manifest, a recollection of past glories and a promise for countless more soon to come. All eyes panned to the harbour as two carriers and nothing less than the Grade Atlastar itself—the ship infamous for the annihilation of Leifor and Paganda yet itself nearly struck down in cold blood by Annorial superweapons in Selatapura—came into view, its size and weapons easily dwarfing both that of the Pal Orichalcumae and La Solne to the shock of the countless Elysians watching.

  “Do you see those cannons?! Those are even larger than those on the Muans’ ships!”

  “What are those strange devices on the back of that vessel? Those clearly aren’t turrets—”

  “Look, they’re opening up!”

  In the two years since Gra Valkas’s fateful encounter with the Annorial Empire in Selatapura, the Grade Atlastar had seen a significant overhaul in its armaments with the development of new weapons and technologies designed to level the playing field with their newfound magical rivals. All traces of the wooden decks had all been replaced with more durable metal alloys and the countless flak guns along its flanks replaced with larger and more accurate cannons; the front two turrets had been repaired following their near-total destruction to railgun fire, but the rear turret had been removed and replaced with a pair of rectangular platforms with sixteen and twenty coverings atop each surface, seemingly protecting some kind of payload underneath. One lid swiftly flung itself open, revealing a massive pointed projectile that erupted and swiftly rose out of its cylindrical container and into the sky in a column of smoke and fire—an Angriefer rocket, now ascending towards the stratosphere in rapidly accelerating speeds before detonating in a fiery blast of red and white.

  The Milishials gasped at the sight, but the show wasn’t over just yet.

  Fifteen Antares fighters flew above the Grade Atlastar and its escorts, the aircraft itself now a common sight across Elysian nations that had aligned with Gra Valkas since its arrival in the New World—but the roar of jets quickly drew the attention of the crowds as five curvilinear planes almost bereft of the corners and angles of their propeller-based counterparts shot ahead of them, their speed and agility all but apparent to those watching. There was no mistaking the red, white, and black emblems of Ragna on their wings, either—Gra Valkas, too, had finally entered the modern era of air combat.

  With practiced neutrality, Bronze began to relay the information provided to MNN by his colleagues in Ragna, yet disbelief and even fear slowly began to creep into his voice as he spoke. “The OR-262G Schwalbe fighter is the Gra Valkas Empire’s first foray into jet technology and a prototype for its next generation of aircraft; as a mechanical aircraft similar to the F-86M in functionality and purpose, it is capable of reaching over nine hundred kilometers per hour. However, I must add, such speeds have yet to be verified by our experts in Runepolis—”

  The rumble of another flight of jets interrupted the host’s description: five unusually-shaped aircraft quickly pursued their predecessors in the sky, their cockpits and main fuselage appearing to be part of the wings themselves—if anything, the planes appeared to be composed solely of a single flying wing each, giving the aircrafts the freedom of flight with minimal drag in return for a truly bizarre appearance.

  “—those would be the OR-229G Gothas, fighter/bomber aircraft with an estimated top speed of nine hundred and sixty kilometers per hour as a result of its jets and aerodynamic design. Again, these details must be verified by our experts in Runepolis—”

  As he spoke, a third rumbling of engines deafened the host’s words, seemingly a final riposte towards his attempts at damage control—a flight of aircraft with swept wings and round intakes integrated into the fuselage itself soared in the skies, the very surface of their wings shimmering with condensed clouds as the jets touched the sound barrier itself. The reactions from the crowds below were immediate: the Muans froze in surprise, the Milishials paled in distress, and the rest of Elysia watched on in astonishment.

  Runepolis’s experts would not need to be approached for verifying what the entirety of Elysia had just witnessed—the Gra Valkans were clearly just a few steps away from achieving supersonic flight.

  The five jets soon took the lead, becoming the head of a massive and mighty formation of Gra Valkan aircraft: the past, the present, and the future, all converging onto a single moment that would shape the history of not just the Empire but the New World it found itself in for years to come.

  “I…”

  Bronze was stunned into silence, sheer shock and disbelief rendering the proud and patriotic Milishial presenter unable to speak. Sensing her colleague’s distress, Forlen was quick to take over for him and continue his commentary.

  “It appears these aircraft are what the Gra Valkans have referred to as the OR-1110G Aufstieg fighters, high-altitude interceptors capable of reaching the sound barrier with a speed of approximately a thousand kilometers per hour. If these details are true, then the Gra Valkans now possess aircraft capable of closely matching the Muan F-86Ms and even our Alpha-4s in combat abilities—and we have statements from our correspondents in Ragna confirming that these jets will be replacing the Antares fighters as the premier aircraft of Gra Valkas over the coming years. The jets above us are part of Ragna Squadron, the answer to the Valar and Otatheit Squadrons in the field of air combat…”

  From his aircraft, Captain Svaun glanced down at the city below him, considering with idle amusement the reactions of the Milishials below; based on the sounds coming from the radio he had equipped on his cockpit, the air show that the Three Generals had intricately planned had clearly had its intended effect. Gra Valkas would be proud, and the diplomats he and his fellow wingmen and sailors had escorted would undoubtedly have a much easier task ahead in the days to come.

  Yet would it be enough to protect the Empire from the Annorials? For all the technological advancements his nation had achieved in the past two years, it was common knowledge that even the cutting-edge aircraft that Gra Valkas proudly displayed was all but inferior to the Pal Aurorae that had struck down his wingmen in Selatapura, let alone those currently in the skies above Cartalpas—for everyone from lowly men like himself all the way up to the diplomats currently disembarking from the Grade Atlastar, one thing was clear: Ragna would need to do far more than merely match the so-called superpowers of the Civilization Areas if it was to even have a sliver of a chance at surviving the coming decades.

  From the speakers of Svaun’s radio, still broadcasting the Milishials’ running commentary, a new tune unexpectedly began to play—to those from the Third Civilization Area, it appeared to be the opening sequence to a Topan dance, the strumming of a lute to an abnormal crescendo as a pair of lovers approached each other for a dance. But for those who truly knew where it came from, a dark shiver ran through them as a distant memory of what it represented from a time long gone returned: a time when a single grey fighter struck down an ancient empire, snatching defeat from the jaws of victory and ushering in an end to an era of horrors and genocide with the very blessing of the gods themselves.

  In the skies above, twenty-five contrails marked the passage of identical DarkStars, all effortlessly soaring thousands of feet above Cartalpas as the atmosphere itself warped and shifted over their surfaces as thin white layers of condensation. The air exploded as fifteen more shot just above the harbour itself at supersonic speeds, their exhausts glowing a bright blue as each aircraft seemed to travel faster and faster before arcing upwards into the skies—beyond even the Dragons of the Emorians, the Alpha-4s of the Milishials, the Marin Phantoms of the Muans, or even the Pal Aurorae of the Annorials and Sorcerers themselves, the crowds in Cartalpas realized.

  From the docks, all eyes turned to the approaching fleet, itself seemingly more alien in appearance than even the magical wonders of Runepolis or the mechanical masterpieces of Ragna. The orchestra, as carefully rehearsed, began to play a new tune: the rhythmic thumping of drums and the triumphant entrance of trumpets.

  A flag composed of blue and white fluttered above the flagship of the most advanced carrier fleet in the history of the known world—named after a pilot of a past war who sacrificed his life diverting his destroyed aircraft to save countless civilians, his legacy lived on from his former wingmen to the vessel carrying his name, signifying not just the sheer sophistication and firepower of the nation that created it but the hopes and dreams that it represented and hoped to share with the rest of the New World for many more years to come.

  Sensing her cue, Forlen announced what was already obvious to the rest of the audience:

  “Ladies and gentlemen, the Osean Federation—the new superpower that has touched the stars and reshaped the Third Civilization Area as we know it—is here!”

  “Task Force One—Osea’s premier naval task force, developed in the aftermath of its brief war with the Annorial Empire, possesses the latest in sea and air combat technology from its newly-launched aircraft carrier to the very planes within its complement! We’ll give you a brief rundown on these vessels and their capabilities, but there will be more details on offer at the Osean Cultural Fair!”

  Carefully browsing a document handed to him, Bronze began to explain in detail the different ships within the Osean fleet. “The OFS Alvin H. Davenport, named after a heroic veteran of the Osean Circum-Pacific War, is the first of a new class of the Federation’s aircraft carriers. Featuring the latest in Osea’s technological innovations and designed exclusively for its next generation of fighter aircraft, the Davenport is the culmination of over fifty years of research and development into the world of air combat, bringing the fruits of these decades of labour into a singular vessel meant to provide security for the Third Civilization Area for the next half century—”

  Ten black fighters shot right above the fleet, interrupting Bronze’s description and drawing gasps from the surrounding onlookers. Unlike the flat and triangular DarkStars, these aircraft had a much more familiar shape akin to the Pal Aurorae and Orsens yet retained the smooth and featureless surfaces of their larger counterparts.

  “—and those planes must be part of Davenport’s air wing! Alana, I believe the Oseans sent you the details beforehand regarding these Heavenly Flying Ships?”

  Forlen smiled, recognizing all too well her colleague’s reluctance to speak too positively about Osea’s technology. “These are the F-35Cs, or the Lightning IIs: multirole aircraft designed to operate against any kind of enemy from ground units to wyverns or even other planes with a maximum speed of Mach 1.6, or 1,900 kilometers per hour. Our sources also tell us that these aircraft also possess what Oured has described as stealth technology akin to that of the DarkStar—the capability to enter and exit battlefields without being detected by any kind of radar, magical or otherwise…”

  The Gra Valkans observing the proceedings from the harbor quickly became more interested in the appearance of these planes, while the Annorial and Milishial delegations began to fume.

  “And right behind them would be their more conventional counterparts! Super Hornets, designation F/A–18E, capable of the exact same tasks but against less technologically advanced enemies. All of these are capable of breaching the sound barrier, might I also add—at speeds that our own prestigious Alpha-4s are almost about to reach as well.”

  Bronze nodded confidently, envisioning Milishial fighters flying side by side with their Osean counterparts in the skies. “Indeed, Alana; undoubtedly our own planes will eventually match their abilities with our supreme magical power! And as the Davenport passes by, its escorts appear to be approaching as well—”

  A pair of Alreigh Burkes sailed past, a familiar sight to many Elysians from countless news reports during the Osea-Parpaldia War. But it was the two destroyers that followed that quickly drew the attention of the Elysian onlookers: an angular ship devoid of visible guns or even any kind of weaponry, its bizarre boxlike appearance drew widespread confusion and even mild amusement from the nearby crowds.

  Bronze’s eyes widened in surprise. “My, those two are some rather peculiar vessels! What in the gods’ names are those?”

  “Zumwalt-class destroyers; their unique shape masks their presence on radar and allows them to provide naval fire support for ground forces without being detected by enemy defenses.” Forlen paused, her eyes carefully analysing the sharp angles of the ships sailing past. “Undoubtedly useful for possible engagements against enemies with similar technological capabilities—and their railguns should give them a pack for every punch they give…”

  “Railguns, eh?” Bronze’s interest quickly morphed into displeasure at the mention of the fabled asteroid-destroying technology long desired by the Milishials yet continuously withheld by Oured from the rest of Elysia. “No doubt our Empire’s brightest minds ought to be able to unlock the Oseans’ secrets in due course—or perhaps the Holy Milishial Empire may be able to reveal something later on in the Conference—”

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  The unearthly drone of a new type of aircraft drew the attention of the crowd away from Bronze and towards the sky once again: five fighters with jagged edges and forward swept wings circled above the city, their pilots obscured by their windowless canopies but the jagged three lines of the lead aircraft a clear sign of their identity. Shooting upwards into the sky, the Falkens opened up, each unleashing a blast of blue fire that ascended to unknown skies—

  “Up there, there’s something flying up there! There’s a—”

  —and from the heavens, a bright beacon fired a beam of light back towards the earth, striking the waters of Cartalpas behind the Osean fleet and illuminating the entire region in a blue glow. Most of the delegates and observers present who hadn’t rushed to avert their eyes from the near-blinding sight glanced upwards, visually tracing the line upwards with growing horror towards its source—for the very first time, the entirety of the New World caught a true glimpse of—

  A Gra Valkan sailor aboard the Grade Atlastar, a survivor from its ill-fated journey to Selatapura and back, pointed with a trembling finger at the winged object in recognition. “Razgriz! Ymir help us, it's the Razgriz herself!”

  It was truly a sight, white and graceful against the wide blue sky like an angel, simple and fluid in its form yet visibly complex and monstrous by virtue of its sheer existence. It was an anathema to all accepted truths and realities, and yet there it was: a vessel that served as not just the ultimate expression of scientific prowess and technological advancement, but an unmistakable and unequivocal demonstration of power amidst the stars from a nation that perhaps not even the Ancient Sorcerous Empire itself could even begin to match. The parlor tricks of the Milishials and Emorians, the glorious displays of the Muans and Gra Valkans, the dominating presence of the Annorials, all were forgotten in an instant—here was a nation whose abilities were beyond that of any superpower in the New World both known and yet to be discovered, and no amount of bluster or obfuscation or willful ignorance and denial could hide that indisputable fact any longer.

  His own voice shaking in barely concealed dismay as he realised that the Milishials’ longstanding image of superiority above all else had all but shattered before him, Bronze began to speak, “…it appears that the reports of the Oseans having the capability to reach outer space are true. This spacecraft, as the Oseans call the vessel above us, is known as the Arkbird: it is capable of remaining in low orbit above Elysia for an indefinite period of time, and designed to intercept guided munitions travelling towards the Osean mainland as well as ground and naval targets throughout the entire New World. Having seen previous action in the Osea-Parpaldia War as well as the brief conflict with the Annorial Empire, this is the first time that the Arkbird has made such a public and open display…”

  Still frozen to their spots by the Oseans’ tour de force, the vast majority of the people present almost failed to notice the two massive aerial carriers now passing above Task Force One—the unexpected rush of wind from a passing Osean aircraft (itself unfamiliar in its appearance) shook most bystanders from their stupor as all attention turned to the payload that the CL-1201s’ fighters had released atop the entire city: a shower of pamphlets, their front pages all dominated by a single logo: a Usean alphabetical symbol atop a blue rectangular seal and a single solitary star.

  Curiosity getting the better of her, Vice Director Ciella kneeled on the cobblestones of the old pier that the Grade Atlastar had docked onto and picked up a stray pamphlet that had fluttered onto the ground beside her. Director Gesta and Dallas both approached from behind, looking over her shoulder with no small about of interest as she carefully read out the name of the company responsible for the unexpected publicity stunt:

  “General Resource?”

  World Leadership Conference, Cartalpas, Holy Milishial Empire — April 23, 2022

  Having made a point of showcasing Osea’s technological and cultural diversity amongst its peers, Bright Hill had spared no expense in its Cultural Fair in Cartalpas, easily outshining the Milishials with the sheer amount of shops and offerings for the countless guests attending the Conference. Selatapuran hawker centres and Comonan restaurants provided a plethora of colourful tastes and culinary sensations for those with empty stomachs, while major businesses from the Osean mainland in turn presented astonishing gadgets and household devices that made even the technologically-minded Muans and Gra Valkans appear antiquated in comparison. But after the unexpected events of the day prior, only one name seemed to be on everyone’s lips and all attention was focused towards the one event said name was hosting—details were scarce and rumours quickly grew to fill in the information vacuum, drawing far more people to the assigned venue than even the Osean and Milishial organizers had originally planned for.

  The newly-renovated Emperor Milishial the First Auditorium was filled to the brim with reporters, photographers, diplomats, and observers who had all witnessed General Resource’s unexpected debut and subsequently read the pamphlets its planes had dropped from the skies—its contents were a compilation of fascinating products, peculiar services, and an invitation to a special “keynote” in the Cultural Fair. With the space having reached maximum capacity, the lights dimmed and a strange melody began to play; a feminine Comonan voice spoke up from the background:

  There for you in everyday life, General Resource.

  Ushering in a new era with you, General Resource.

  Building a better future with you, General Resource.

  We’re out there everyday, and with you today.

  GENERAL RESOURCE

  A spotlight burst into life and illuminated the stage, instantly drawing the audience’s attention to a solitary figure that had stepped forward from the shadows. The Elysians present paused and frowned in confusion at the man’s appearance: his outfit was considerably different than the suits and tuxedos that the likes of Bartlett and Harling once wore, consisting of a thick wool turtleneck above a white collared shirt and rough, rugged pants more appropriate for a farmer in the Muan countryside than a person of great importance. Yet this person stepped forward to the crowd with no small amount of confidence, an expression of self-assurance on his young face about the revelations that he and the corporation he led and represented would soon unveil to the New World.

  “Good morning, people of Elysia; I’m Paul Anderson, Chief Executive Officer of General Resource. I’m sure many of you are wondering who we are or why we’re here today: you’ll have probably read our brochures or even seen the reports from OBC and MNN about our past as a logistics and shipping company in Usea before the Transference. However, that’s perhaps not as important compared to another question: what exactly can General Resource offer you?”

  Anderson gave his audience an impish grin before continuing.

  “Throughout the history of General Resource, our success has been measured not just through sales and profits, but by our ability to adapt to the changing times—all defined by one word that we value and aim to represent by our actions—”

  In the background, a single word appeared behind Anderson:

  Versatility.

  “When General Resource was first established as a shipping company in the aftermath of the Ulysses Disaster, our founders quickly realised that our company had to become more than merely the business that delivered goods and services between the nations of our Old World—with the vast majority of our homeland’s industries and economies destroyed, we had to become the company that produced and directly provided these products to our customers. When General Resource found itself caught in the crossfire of conflicts such as the Continental War and the Emmeria-Estovakia War, we realised that we had to also become capable of defending ourselves and our wares in the absence of a stable governing body to protect us. When the entire Osean Federation found itself transported from one strange reality to another, we—those who happened to be in Comona, Selatapura, or Oured when the Transference itself occurred—realised that only through working with those whom we once considered to be our rivals could we stand a chance at surviving the extraordinary circumstances before us.

  “And so, we have grown and adapted—in the past two years, we have completed the process of merging with our partners in nuCOMM, expanding our already diverse array of products and services into the telecommunications and aerospace industries. We have replaced Gründer Industries as the main supplier of hardware and equipment to the Osean Federation’s Self Defense Forces, we have expanded our operations to the Third Civilization Area to assist with reconstruction efforts and the modernisation of the region, and we have even begun the development of new technologies that we are confident will completely reshape everyday life not just in the Osean Federation but across the entire New World. Versatility is a term that we have chosen to describe our efforts to adapt and change throughout the quarter-century of our existence—and a term that we now use to describe our approach in satisfying our customers both in Osea and beyond for many more years to come.

  The screen behind Anderson brightened into a white glow, revealing the General Resource logo; his introduction complete, the businessman confidently turned to his audience once more.

  “Now, I do believe it’s time that we showed you our products up close. Shall we?”

  As the Elysians watched, the CEO pulled out a small rectangular device from his pocket—the entire front side was a reflective surface devoid of buttons or controls, yet it inexplicably glowed and burst to life as Anderson raised the object up high for the audience to see. Suppressing a grin as the observers present began to murmur in curiosity, the young Usean gave the crowd a moment to process the sight before beginning his sales pitch.

  “This is the n8 smartphone, a telecommunications device capable of wireless communication between individuals similar to that of a radio or a telephone or even a manacomm. Unlike its Elysian counterparts, however, this device does not need magic to operate and does not require the transmission of radio signals or any kind of electromagnetic waves—our groundbreaking, freshly-patented communications system makes use of rechargeable, replaceable subatomic particles within our devices to ensure a clear and uninterrupted signal for your calls. This is what we have dubbed the Electrosphere—the future of communications for Osea and beyond—guaranteeing high definition, high-quality video and audio messaging from here to Oured and back—”

  “Impossible!” A Muan businessman had risen to his feet in incredulity, his moustache wriggling as he pointed an accusing finger at Anderson. “Quantum physics is a still-burgeoning field in the Second Civilization Area—are you suggesting that your company has somehow mastered this esoteric science that our researchers have struggled to understand for decades, enough to create a device that small?!”

  “We’ve had at least an additional century to explore quantum mechanics, I assure you, and we’ve discovered more than enough about the field to begin applying what we know for the general public to utilise,” Anderson confidently replied. “In fact, I can demonstrate to you right now that this is not a farce, if you would like me to do so?”

  “Please, enlighten us.”

  The light panned towards a plastic table on the side of the stage, a small madar device and a radio receiver carefully positioned on each side. Carefully placing the n8 on a specially-designed stand, the CEO turned towards the crowd once more.

  “To activate this device, there are multiple options available: the first is by tapping on the screen to turn it on and inputting a five-digit passcode, and the second is by bringing the device to your face—with facial recognition technology, the n8 will recognise its owner and automatically unlock the device for general usage…”

  With a swirl of light, the smartphone opened to reveal a menu comprising of multiple colorful widgets behind a vivid wallpaper. The crowd gasped in astonishment, and the Muan raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

  “To turn on the phone system, we will simply tap on the ‘Phone’ icon, which will automatically take us to a new menu where we can find a list of contacts. To call someone, we can either use another numpad to call a specific number, or if we already have someone saved then we can just press their name—let’s call my colleague Evi, who’s currently waiting for us from our offices in Comona. As you can see from either receiver, there are no magic or electromagnetic signals being detected from this smartphone—hey, Evi, how are you doing?”

  “Paul, hello! How’s Cartalpas?”

  The crowd shouted in shock as countless stupefied individuals rose to their feet. Several Osean and Usean attendees had already began applauding and loudly cheering at the sight, having long awaited a technological milestone such as this—the Muan businessman’s jaw had seemingly dropped, the middle-aged man shifting his rotund form forwards in disbelief as he leaned forwards to get a better view at the smartphone and the surrounding devices. There was no hiding it: in every aspect of everyday Osean life where General Resource played a role in supporting or manifesting the very products that they relied upon, the long-awaited brave new world of the post-modern era had finally arrived, now manifesting before their very eyes—for those present who knew only of how far in the future their newfound eastern neighbours already were, one thought came to mind: if all these existing wonders were already considered outdated, then what other untold revelations exactly counted for them as “the future”?

  “Alright, thanks Evi, I’ll talk to you later. Bye!”

  Carefully ending the call, Anderson turned back towards the audience, basking in their surprise as he announced, “This device will become available to the wider Elysian public starting from June 15—it will have a phased release as we begin operating our local Electrosphere facilities within all major capitals, and our goal is to ensure that our customers from Mu to Comona will be able to have a smooth and reliable phone call with full customer support. But that is not the only thing that the n8 is capable of doing, however!”

  The Usean slid a finger through the screen, causing the device to exit the phone menu. There were still plenty more icons to explore, the Elysians realised—

  “On top of standard phone communications, the n8 also has additional features: the ability to play music, the ability to determine one’s location, the ability to access the Internet…”

  “With all these products and services, I do hope that I’ve made a good case for you, the audience, as customers and potential future business partners, of the value of considering General Resource for your patronage and backing. It’s definitely one thing to make it clear to the world that what one has is something that is worth coveting—for the right price, for the right conditions, and for the right market. But, of course, these are rather strange times—times that even without the likes of Osea or General Resource, would perhaps be a cause for concern for people across the New World.”

  The CEO’s tone shifted, becoming more serious and to the point.

  “Many of you will undoubtedly remember the Lighthouse Conference over two years ago and the fighters introduced by our Osean partners during that groundbreaking event. Many of you will also remember the attacks that took place shortly after the conclusion of the Conference, and the subsequent conflict that took place between Osea and the Annorials. Many of you will also be very much aware of new conflicts that may soon be brewing in the near future: the growing presence of the Gra Valkans, the similarities between the Annorials and their Sorcerous ancestors in terms of technology and firepower, and perhaps even the countless raiders and privateers that have since taken advantage of this instability to target merchants traversing the seas between the Civilization Areas. As a company that traces its origins to the shipping and logistics industry, we’ve had plenty of experience when it comes to ensuring the safe transportation of our products across any kind of environment from hostile warzones to extreme biomes—and with our new aerospace department, established in cooperation with the newly-merged nuCOMM, I can now confidently announce that General Resource is now ready to unveil a new generation of internally-designed and manufactured fighter aircraft for both its security forces and its customers in Osea and beyond!”

  Four letters appeared below the GR logo: GRDF.

  “The General Resource Defense Force is our private military branch, capable of operating without the restrictive boundaries or jurisdictions imposed upon conventional armed forces. Our vehicles and equipment are all internally-made, and our staff all originate from a wide variety of nations from what we once knew as the Usean continent to the New World itself, and both our partners and competitors can easily recognise that our capabilities are arguably on par with that of the formidable OSDF. Hell, we’re the ones creating the technology that Osea itself now utilises in its mission to achieve world peace—and now, let’s take a look at some of our planes that you could soon see in the sky near you…”

  Behind Anderson, the rear of the stage parted to reveal an entire new segment of the Auditorium: three aircraft were prominently positioned to face the audience, their surfaces smooth and curved and their cockpits completely enclosed by a thick canopy and an array of circular cameras embedded into its surface—the mythical COFFIN interface only seen prior on the infamous ADF-01 Falken, the Elysians realised to their surprise. Dozens of photographers from both Osea and the rest of the New World immediately got to work as the countless flashes illuminated the room, copies of their film or digital files later reaching the front pages of newspapers and blogs across the planet in the following days.

  Gesturing at the leftmost fighter, the CEO announced, “This is the YR-99 Forneus, a sixth-generation prototype multirole aircraft utilising experimental control systems and radiation-absorbent materials that gives it stealth and combat abilities on par with Gründer Industries’s Falkens and X-02 Wyverns. Featuring full integration with the entire array of conventional air-to-air and air-to-ground weaponry currently in use by the OADF, the Forneus is what we believe to be the bridge between today and the future.”

  The Oseans and Useans present applauded at the sight: having modern aircraft with the same futuristic technology as those produced by Gründer, all while while avoiding the reputational quagmire that was the company’s past Grey Men shenanigans, was a significant achievement for General Resource and their backers in Oured—with the Falken finally having competition, could this be the aircraft that finally brought the COFFIN from an exotic concept of an upcoming era into a widespread and common utility for modern flight?

  “Next up, we have the YR-302 Fregata: its specialisation is the attack role, with its four engines and massive fuel and weapons compartments allowing it to strike targets from afar. While hardly as glamorous compared to the Forneus or as iconic as the A-10, its utilisation of modern technology for a classic task of consistently eliminating waves of enemies and targets of importance should prove it to be a fitting replacement for Osea’s aging fleet of F-16s and F-16XLs.”

  Andersen finally turned to the aircraft at the center of the room, where some keen eyes seemed to recognise its appearance from its canards to its double-delta airframe and rear—it seemed familiar, like a smaller version of a more famous aircraft from back in the day, but what exactly was it?

  “In 1998, during the Usean Crisis, a mercenary pilot known for his unparalleled skill in the air was commissioned by what would become the Federation of Central Usea to destroy a formidable coalition of rebels in what would become known as Operation Fighter’s Honor. This pilot, the leader of a legendary PMC known as Scarface Squadron, was given an aircraft that only he himself possessed the ability to truly fly: the XFA-27, one of the very first fighters to use what we now know as COFFIN—and what has also been recently confirmed as the first known fighter to not only engage but destroy a ADF-01 Falken itself in air-to-air combat.”

  Gasps echoed throughout the room—the Elysian observers were shocked at the idea that the very aircraft vaulted by the Oseans as the next generation of air combat had already suffered a combat loss over twenty years ago, their Usean counterparts finally realising what the aircraft before them actually was from vague rumours and speculation gleamed in the years beforehand.

  “In the decades since the end of the Crisis and the countless wars that have since followed, researchers from various companies have attempted to produce a version of the XFA-27 that regular human beings such as ourselves could actually use. Based on feedback and flight data gleaned from those lucky enough to have served under Scarface Squadron all those years ago, the design for this legendary aircraft has since been optimised for easier maintenance, all while maintaining the edge that its original form possessed against the most skilled pilots of Usea and beyond, alongside its sleek and iconic appearance—and together with our newfound partners at nuCOMM, we’ve also finally implemented full COFFIN integration, providing a far simpler and reactive interface for pilots than even Phoenix himself could have only dreamed of—”

  Anderson’s voice grew louder as the Useans began to cheer, the other attendees unfamiliar with the renowned history of the greatest pilot of their homeland glancing around in confusion.

  “—ladies and gentlemen, it is my greatest pleasure to finally present on behalf of General Resource and everyone before us who worked so hard to reach this point: the XFA-24 Apalis!”

  Applause and shouts dominated the Auditorium as Paul allowed himself to bask in his audience’s acclaim for a full minute before speaking again.

  “And before I forget, let me add one more thing: all three of these planes will have full Electrosphere compatibility—alongside conventional radio-based communications, these planes will have the very same quantum entanglement technology that will soon replace the Internet itself! These planes are not just meant to match our competitors in the present, Elysian, Osean, Belkan, or otherwise—these planes are meant to protect our skies into the far future!”

  As if the crowd couldn’t get any wilder, borderline pandemonium erupted across the venue as the denizens of the New World sank further onto their seats in disbelief and the Osean and Usean attendees didn’t even bother to hide their enthusiasm and excitement about the string of revelations before them. Amidst the crowd, however, Andersen noticed a select few Elysians who didn’t appear to be catatonic like their fellow kin—a handful of Gra Valkans and Muans, and even a scattering of Philadeans and Rodenians. Rather, their expressions appeared to be those of fascination, perhaps even anticipation as an unspoken question was visible in their eyes. With a grin, the Usean gently gestured at the audience to settle down.

  “For those who are watching who may not necessarily be from the Osean Federation, for those who might be interested in more than just our household and civilian products, you may be asking: how much would it cost to purchase one of these fighters? Would the nations of the New World be able to buy a fleet of Fregatas or Fornea for their own national defense? Well, no—”

  The faces of the Elysians started to fall—

  “—however, there’s something else that I’d also like to add. To the diplomats and leaders of Elysia watching us right now, I’d like to make you an offer.”

  —only to freeze in place.

  “You’ve seen our appliances. You’ve seen our devices. You’ve seen our planes. You know that our products could not only help end the ills that plague the nations of the New World in a few years, but bring your nations to the same technological level as that of Qua-Toyne, of Altaras, or even any major nation in the Third Civilization Area. We all know that the Osean laws restricting the sale of our own technologies are absolute and unlikely to be changed on a whim—even the trade agreements with Mu and Gra Valkas were fraught with strict stipulations restricting how the knowledge and technology being provided could be used—and for good reason. Yet we also know that without our products, your nations may soon find themselves on the chopping block as our world changes and stronger and more powerful kingdoms and empires start to seek dominion over what we all know as the New World. So what if, with all this in mind, I were to present you with something different?”

  Anderson carefully paced the stage, having taken a sip from his flask to lubricate his vocal cords. With the entirety of General Resource’s plethora of household and industrial products having been successfully presented to his audience, there was one more thing for him to present to the world at large—something that would mark a new step forward for the company he represented and potentially even reshape the New World as everyone knew it…

  “To the nations of Elysia, my offer is this: we can help you develop the industries needed to procure the materials for our products, and we can expand our markets to help transform your cities and communities into civilizations on par with the Milishials and the Oseans, if not even beyond—the ability to prolong life, to talk and travel across the oceans and skies, and to continue the eternal, universal pursuit of happiness without the fear of harm or suffering. And with our businesses and wares in your countries, you will have my personal guarantee—that General Resource in return will take every means necessary to ensure that our mutual interests are all protected until the end of time.”

  The spotlight shifted to the three otherworldly aircraft as the stage darkened once more—the GR logo shined once more in the background, like a beacon beckoning towards others from afar. The crowd was silent, the unspoken implications of Andersen’s promise looming heavily upon them.

  Could a company heralding the arrival of tomorrow seriously hope to stand toe to toe with the superpowers of today?

  “General Resource—building a better future. Let’s build it together, shall we?”

  HMAF Cartalpas Airbase, Holy Milishial Empire — April 22, 2022

  “Osean aircraft, this is Air Traffic Control for HMAF Cartalpas. You’re cleared to land on Runway Five; please use caution in your approach.”

  “Copy, Air Traffic Control, we’re going in.” Wiseman unexpectedly grinned, turning to the rest of the LRSSG behind him. “Hey, people, remember that stunt we practiced over at the Kestrel? I think it’s time we gave our Elysian guests a bit of a surprise.”

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea? If this goes wrong, we’ll be on the front page of every newspaper from Ragna to Comona—and a reprimand from the flight commander will be the least of our problems—”

  “Oh, have some faith, Jaeger. We’ve done this over a hundred times at this point; it’ll be just like how we’ve done it before, but this time with the world watching us!”

  Sighing to himself in resignation, the long-suffering wingman decided to play along. “Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. Strider Squadron, you know the drill—follow my lead!”

  Curving above the skies of Cartalpas towards the airbase, the flight of Lightnings caught the attention of onlookers and observers below; a stream of reporters and technical experts from across the New World thronged the areas of the airbase opened to the public in hopes of getting a glimpse of the futuristic Oseans up close, cameras and sketchbooks at the ready. From the ATC tower, however, the Milishial staff present were less than elated at what they were seeing as the LRSSG made their final approach.

  “Those fools are coming in too high!”

  “He’s too fast!”

  “No way, they’re going to crash—”

  “They won’t make it!”

  The five F-35s shot forwards over the runway with speeds way beyond those deemed sufficient by the Milishials to stop on time, the countless Elysians observing the landing fighters with barely concealed horror. At the last second, Wiseman barked a single command to his wingmen:

  “Now!”

  On each Lightning, a series of flaps abruptly opened up right behind the LRSSG’s cockpits, the exhausts on the rear of their respective fighters pointing downwards as all five birds slowly but surely came to a halt—yet the F-35s were somehow hovering above the tarmac itself with ease, the Osean fighters gently and carefully floating like miniature Pal Chimerae to the shock of everyone present.

  From a nearby hangar where the Gra Valkans had parked their Orsens, Naguano and Svaun froze as they saw their counterparts wave at them, mutely raising their hands in acknowledgment as they floated by.

  “Air Traffic Control, which parking spot here is ours?”

  OFS Alvin H. Davenport, Cartalpas, Holy Milishial Empire — April 23, 2022

  “All these newfangled technologies, I swear…can you hear me?”

  “Yes, we can hear you, Kumari,” the image of Senator Armstrong remarked from the television screen as he squinted back at the President from his office in Oured, “and with a remarkable video quality, too. Quantum entanglement as a means of advanced sci-fi communication; who would have thought?”

  Aadarshini shook her head at her colleague’s remarks, turning to glance at the rest of the meeting room as several civilian and military officials continued to set up their own equipment. “Secretary Clarkson’s still on his way to the meeting room—something about his Milishial counterpart’s mannacom call lasting a bit longer than originally planned. Once everyone’s here, we should be able to get this meeting underway.”

  The Senate Majority Leader sighed as he immediately imagined Harling’s protégé being verbally harangued by whoever it was behind the line (presumably Minister Pao for the sheer number of OADF units currently flying within his nation’s airspace, or Liage with some more unwanted diplomatic feelers for the upcoming meetings), knowing all too well the increasingly aggressive rhetoric being pushed by the Milshial government leading up to the start of the Conference. “We’ve barely even arrived at this long-awaited Conference, and the local politicians are already kicking up a storm—hopefully the air show should help shut up some of the more vocal folks still insisting on us deferring to Runepolis for whatever policies they’re looking to enact.”

  “Hah, as if even I’d be willing to consider that,” Kumari scoffed. “Whatever happened to that Pal Aurora 1 project the Milishials were supposedly working on? Didn’t we offer to help them with reverse-engineering the wreckage we pulled out of the harbour in Selatapura as part of the effort to bolster their defenses against Magicaregia?”

  “I think we both know the folks here in the Central World would sooner prostrate themselves before the Ravernals than admit their own shortcomings in the field of air combat, Aadi. Ten marks says that they’ll be blaming us for not being more forthcoming with our tech once the Conference starts, especially now that they know that they’re on the backfoot in the technological arms race with all the different planes from Mu and Gra Valkas currently above us.”

  The door to the meeting room swung open as Secretary Clarkson and his staff swiftly strode towards their seats. “Sorry I’m late. Don’t take that bet, Madam President—the entire impromptu call from Phiam was composed entirely of informal requests that we back up their proposals and tone down the spectacle a bit for future airshows during the Conference. I think sending the Harling, Nikanor, and the Arkbird to Cartalpas simultaneously spooked his superiors over in Runepolis a bit.”

  Kumari sighed. “And here you were, John, saying that nothing less than a show of force would be enough to make our position in the New World clear to everyone.”

  “Well, at least it’s better than having the Milishials walk all over us later,” Armstrong pointed out. “If you’re still going to go through with your whole ‘mutual cooperation and coexistence’ policy during the Conference, we still need to be able to demonstrate that we’re very much capable of doing things the Elysian way if someone starts raising a fuss, right?”

  “All well and good, but not exactly productive if we end up accidentally getting some of Milishial’s more delusional Senators to start calling for another gunboat fleet to sail to Sand Island. But that’s neither here nor there—is the connection with the others secure?”

  “Well, I can definitely see you two now,” a new voice remarked as a second image appeared next to the Senate Majority Leader—a visibly irritable woman of Comonan descent with a distinct afro-like hairdo and dressed in a red suit with golden floral designs—the middle-aged figure turning to glare at Armstrong with no small amount of disdain. “John. I’d say it’s a pleasure seeing you, but in truth I’d get as much pleasure in shoving a sharp rod up my own ass.”

  Armstrong smirked back. “Miriam, you old hag. Sacrificed any babies lately for another shot at eternal life?”

  “All right, that’s enough from the two of you,” the President drily interjected. “Edwards, Polson, Legarda, everyone else, can you hear me?”

  “Glad to see you care for me that much, boss,” the Vice President snarked semi-sarcastically from his own office. “What am I, filler material?”

  “Hey, blame Armstrong and Bartlett for that, not me—”

  Miriam harumphed, the Speaker of the House instantly drawing all attention to her with her gesture. “Perhaps we should get this meeting underway, Kumari—I’m looking at the OBC broadcast of the event, and it looks like you’ll have at least fifteen more minutes before your ship docks. I don’t know about everyone else, but I think we’d be better off spending that time actually double-confirming our policies for the Conference rather than making attempts at semi-intelligent remarks.”

  “It’s nice to see you too, Ms. Legarda.”

  With all the expected attendees now present, the President looked at the figures around her and on the briefing screen as she quickly recalled each name and which department they represented. In the room with her was Clarkson, the seasoned ambassador having quickly made his way up the ranks in the years since his mentor’s death and now her personal advisor on foreign affairs; on the screen, former Vice Chairman Edwards was now the Defense Secretary under the recommendation of Senator Armstrong, himself now the highest-ranking member of the National Party and in charge of the Senate’s operations whenever Vice President Ayala wasn’t around. The Secretary of the Treasury was an OU graduate by the name of Gregory Wong, a thin figure currently tasked with keeping the Osean economy afloat, a formidable task that had mercifully become much easier in recent years as the post-Transference shock began to dissipate.

  And of course there was Senator Polson—the poor sap assigned to be the Reformists’ head honcho in the upper legislative house, his role essentially amounting to less than nothing with the current minority Kumari’s government possessed pending the upcoming midterms. The bloke glanced nervously at the Speaker of the House, having been at the receiving end of her innumerable rants throughout the years for his perceived incompetence; the long-lived woman was equally renowned for her dedication to procedure and diligence in her work as her short temper.

  “All right, now that everyone’s here, I believe we can now start this briefing. Clarkson, you’ve already sent each of us a copy of your department’s assessments, but can you summarise for us again what main topics are expected to be raised during this Conference?”

  The Secretary of State gestured as a new window opened on the briefing screen, revealing a plethora of figures, maps, and pictures. “Based on our discussions with our Milishial counterparts regarding the Conference’s planned schedule, there will be three primary points of contention for the attending delegations to discuss. The first is the Ravernal Empire itself; from unofficial channels within the magical community, we’ve been informed that their return may be sooner than anticipated—and Runepolis may be hoping to encourage its fellow EDI members to bolster their own preparations for when they arrive.

  “The second point kind of links to the first point—activity within the Annorial Empire has increased within the past month to levels not seen since the attack on Selatapura, and Runepolis is looking to establish either a short-term detente with Magicaregia or a united front within the EDI against whatever they might attempt to pull off. I believe Edwards has the details regarding what we’ve detected?”

  The Defense Secretary nodded. “Nine months ago, as you’re all undoubtedly aware, our satellites began picking up radio transmissions unique to the Annorials coming from the Branchel Continent. We later picked up similar signals being transmitted from multiple locations within all three Civilization Areas—concurrent to an unexpected rise in supposed accidents and border incidents within already volatile areas: border clashes between Mu and Gra Valkas, sea monsters along the Philadean coastline, and even a strew of bombings and explosions within the Milishial and the Mu continents themselves. The recent attack on the Himomawari capital that took out half of the Royal Family, for instance, had Annorial radio frequencies within the vicinity of the incident prior to the explosion that destroyed the entire city—not that it’s stopped the Milishials and Muans from pointing fingers at the Gra Valkans.”

  “Which brings us to the third point: regardless of whether or not the Annorials are actively instigating further unrest in the Second Civilization Area, tensions between Gra Valkas, Mu, and the Elysian Defense Initiative are now at an all-time high,” Clarkson concluded. “We could be looking at a major diplomatic row during the Conference if the situation isn’t successfully mediated, maybe the imposition of international sanctions on Ragna—and potentially even an actual war if either the EDI or the GVE decide to escalate.”

  Kumari glanced at Secretary Wong. “How bad would an armed conflict between the Central World and Gra Valkas be for our economy?”

  The Treasury head sighed, reaching for his files before him. “Especially bad, right off the top of my head. We have trade agreements with both the EDI and Gra Valkas, and having our businesses get caught in the middle would be disastrous without a stable market for us to acquire raw materials or export goods—both factions would likely compel us to immediately cut off trade with either side, and the Milishials could potentially even use their naval assets to attempt a blockade—”

  “And they’d probably succeed,” Clarkson added. “Even with their global influence significantly diminished, Runepolis still holds significant clout within the Central World—and their fleets are still something that could pose a threat to our merchant ships. The Milishials would have enough support from its immediate neighbours to get a coalition fleet cutting us off from Gra Valkas, if they felt it to be necessary.”

  Armstrong slowly frowned. “Do we have any countermeasures for that, should a blockade happen?”

  “There’s a rough plan being sketched out for an airlift operation with our Concorde jets,” Secretary Edwards began, “but we still need to iron out the details—”

  “Let’s see if we can get a diplomatic solution first, shall we?” The President had extended her arms placatingly, quickly interrupting the conversation in an attempt to steer things back on track. “Clarkson, can we mediate between the Gra Valkans and the EDI in order to calm things down a bit?”

  “It’s possible, but we’re looking at two very different mindsets about how the world works—and numerous subfactions with their own interests on each side. Runepolis and Ragna could potentially be made to agree on a short-term solution, but we’ll probably need to shift both of their attentions away to other matters if we want to keep the peace in the region.”

  Legarda nodded in understanding. “The Annorials and Ravernals?”

  “Potentially,” Kumari agreed. “Regarding those folks, how are things looking on that front? We’ve seen the Annorial fleet earlier—what’s the situation, Conference-wise or defence-wise?”

  Armstrong frowned. “Our encounters with Ravernal superweapons would undoubtedly demonstrate the importance of ensuring Osea’s defensive measures are capable of matching whatever they might throw at us in the future, but I’d imagine the EDI might attempt to use these news as a means of getting us to provide them with our tech for their defenses. How many times has Minister Phiam attempted to petition us through both our existing diplomatic channels and the IUN for the creation of a second Stonehenge on the Milishial continent or something similar at this point?”

  “Fear of the Ravernals could potentially override even our existing arguments against integrating our more advanced technologies into Runepolis’s existing defense network,” the President mused, “and the fact that we’ve already begun providing the Muans and Gra Valkans with the means of developing fighters capable of outfighting their magical counterparts will undoubtedly result in accusations of favoritism being levelled against us. The diplomatic pressure alone would likely be significant—”

  “Didn’t we give the Milishials the Pal Aurorae fighters from Selatapura? Why haven’t we heard any kind of public statement from Runepolis about that trade deal—wouldn’t that count as a form of assistance akin to letting Gründer relocate to Gra Valkas or giving the Muans the blueprints to the Sabres?” Speaker Legarda crossed her arms in annoyance, turning to look at Kumari and Armstrong for answers.

  “The Milishials are a proud people, and they haven’t exactly taken too kindly to us essentially taking their spot as the premier nation of their world order—their national pride won’t let them admit to the rest of Elysia that they’ve had to ask us for help in what was essentially their own speciality,” Armstrong pointed out. “We’d announce it ourselves, and I’d imagine we’d have to bring it up if we do get accused of favoritism during the Conference, but that also runs the risk of just worsening relations with Runepolis with their egos bruised.”

  “It could potentially wind up like the war with Parpaldia, but this time the Milishials would actually be formidable enough both militarily and politically to make the whole mess with Empress Remille look like a mild misunderstanding.” Clarkson recalled with no small amount of distaste his “negotiations” with the Auditor when Harling had been taken hostage, imagining the sheer headache a similar clusterfuck with Minister Phiam would entail. “Saying nothing, on the other hand, would allow the Milishials to frame their calls for the dissemination of Ulysses-grade Osean and Usean weaponry as a legitimate and reasonable request.”

  The Treasury Secretary frowned. “So why can’t we just give the HME the means for making Stonehenge 2.0, then?”

  Every person present turned incredulously towards the Secretary.

  “Do you want to be responsible for when some Erusea-esque loony decides to start shelling our cities with railgun rounds at Mach 15 after the Ravernals are wiped out?”

  “…fair point.”

  Shaking her head in irritation, Kumari focused her attention on Edwards.

  “Ignoring the Milishials for a moment, how exactly are our own armed forces looking in regards to preparations for the Ravernals?”

  The Defense Secretary paused, carefully considering the details handed to him by his staff. “In terms of technology, our researchers are of the belief that we essentially on par with the Ravernals, if not ahead—based on our data taken from Operation Singularity, I think that we can safely conclude that the OSDF should be more than capable of repelling any attempts at a conventional invasion of the Osean mainland. Likewise, if we were to be faced with a nuclear onslaught, an approach akin to our air campaign against Magicaregia would likely yield a similar outcome where we would be able to avoid an MAD scenario, utilising both standard fighters and our DarkStar fleet.”

  “But wouldn’t this approach of yours depend on where exactly the Ravernals will rematerialise?” Kumari queried, her eyes panning to a map of the New World. “Wouldn’t we have to completely revise our existing plans if they end up, say, south of the Annorial Empire, or next to the Gra Valkan continent, or even worse, right off the coast of Oured?”

  Secretary Edwards nodded in acknowledgement, shifting on his seat as he spoke. “That would be where our DarkStar fleet would come into play, Madam President—that said, however, you are correct in your assessment regarding where exactly we’ll need to deploy for the conflict ahead. On that front, we’re regrettably still very much in the dark: from what I understand, most historical records we’ve accessed within Elysia either describe the Ravernal homeland as essentially the entire New World rather than an individual continent or region, or provide increasingly contradictory locations between Grameus and the Branchel continent.”

  The Vice President frowned. “That’s not exactly very specific.”

  “It’s not,” Kumari agreed, glancing at the table as she considered the options available. “The Emorians are the ones responsible for determining the future whereabouts of the Ravernals, correct?”

  Clarkson quickly recalled all the information he had gathered prior to the meeting. “Yes, that would seem to be the case.”

  “Gabriel, try and see if you can get a meeting with the Emorian delegations after today’s sessions—if they can give us some rough ideas about where the Ravernals are expected to reappear, we could potentially be able to deploy some of our fleets to surround them beforehand. Heck, if they’re supposed to appear next to a part of the New World that we already have relations with, we might even be able to get some airbases set up for our airborne units!”

  “Obfuscate with the Milishials and link up with the Emorians, got it. And for the rest of the attendees?”

  “Well, we’ve already given them the means to either catch up with us or at least become on par with the Ravernals in due time, haven’t we?”

  Nodding, Armstrong turned to the President once more. “That’ll have to do, I suppose. What if the Annorials decide to try and blow Cartalpas up?”

  “That’s where the Arkbird and the CL-1201s come in. Is General Resource still keeping the Nikanor and Harling in position above the city?”

  “They are,” Edwards confirmed, “and will continue to do so for the rest of the Conference. If Magicaregia decides to do a Harling, the GRDF should help see the Annorials off while you’re evacuated by the Davenport—or the Ulysses, should Task Force One be wiped out in the initial attack.”

  Unbeknownst to everyone in Elysia except for the highest-ranking officials of Osea’s government and military, a nuclear-powered submarine loaded with enough Helios missiles to make the end of the Belkan War look quaint in comparison was patrolling the outskirts of Cartalpas’s harbour in search for trouble, its crew patiently keeping eyes on the events on the surface, all hoping that their presence would ultimately prove to be unnecessary. The fiery devastation of Selatapura over two years ago was still a painfully fresh memory for much of Osea, and hardly something that anyone would prefer to witness once again—but if the unthinkable was to make a return, then each person aboard knew what they had to do.

  For now, though, Kumari was planning for an outcome to the Conference that hopefully wouldn’t require their intervention. “Alright, that’s basically all the main points covered. Clarkson, are we expecting anyone to approach us before the main proceedings?”

  “There’s the Gra Valkan and Muan delegations—our ambassadors to both nations have been contacted about a quick chat, presumably about the situation along the old Leifor border or whatever’s going on with the Annorials. The Milishials have also sent us a message on behalf of the Free Leifor government-in-exile: apparently the Duke and heir apparent to the Imperial Crown seeks a personal audience with you as soon as possible, too.”

  The Vice President raised an eyebrow. “A petition for aid, perhaps?”

  “More than likely, by the sounds of it. The Duke apparently had some kind of proposition—”

  A rap on the door interrupted the Secretary of State’s remarks; an aide carefully opened the door, revealing Commodore Robin Airey, the commanding officer of the Davenport itself. “Madam President?”

  “Yes, what is it?”

  “We’ll be docking shortly, and it looks like the Emperor himself’s waiting at the port to receive you.”

  Sighing to herself, Kumari rose to her feet and nodded at Clarkson. “Well, no point delaying it any further—let’s go and talk to some Elysians, shall we?”