The immense energy transformed into a surging shockwave, spreading across the entire sea surface in an instant.
"BOOM!!!"
Only then did the sound of the explosion finally erupt across the water. Centered on the point of detonation, the impact, like some raging beast, shoved the air aside and parted the sea in an instant.
Seen from high above, that stretch of ocean sank down in a single moment, ripple after ripple spreading outward.
But to those actually on the water, those "ripples" were in truth towering, world-ending waves.
Not only that, the shockwave also produced a gale of the most extreme violence, howling forward with the power to destroy everything in its path.
Countless Intis warships were flung skyward by the waves and torn utterly to pieces in the terrible storm.
The shockwave kept spreading, pushing all the way to the edge of the thick fog and expanding the fog-free stretch of ocean even further, before it finally came to an end.
A few seconds later.
With a low moan, wind began pouring in from every direction, refilling the air that had been emptied at the center of the blast.
The tide churned without pause, and the sunken sea surface slowly restored itself. Along with that wind came a filthy, chaotic rain.
Fragments of flesh, wreckage of ships, torn cloth, splintered wood... everything mixed into the falling rain, dropping one after another.
The seawater hissed and roiled, the heat from the blast having brought the ocean itself to a boil. From time to time, the bubbling water would push up pieces of hull, severed limbs, and heads that had died with their eyes still wide open.
The whole stretch of ocean was a scene of devastation. In the core area, most of the warships had been shattered to pieces; the outer edges had fared somewhat better, with a little under half still intact.
This fleet the Intis had once taken such pride in, the Fog Sea Fleet, had just suffered an utterly annihilating blow.
"Medic! Medic!"
"Aaah... my arm, my arm's been boiled!"
"Lord... Sun above..."
The hiss of boiling water, the screams of the wounded, the wet patter of the filthy blood-rain falling: all these sounds mixed together, forming a chorus that seemed to rise straight out of hell.
"Ah!"
Lieutenant Philip woke from unconsciousness, and the moment he opened his eyes he was met with this scene of chaos.
He shot upright in terror and quickly checked himself all over, only to discover that he was, astonishingly, completely unharmed.
He was unbelievably lucky.
"Praise the Sun!"
Philip cried out in ecstasy. He was certain he must have earned the Lord's favor, been granted a blessing.
Once he returned to Intis, perhaps he could use this to join the Eternal Blazing Sun Church, rise steadily through its ranks, and exchange views on doctrine with young noble ladies from every corner...
Wait, where was Pierre?!
Philip spent a moment lost in his daydream before finally recalling something far more important, and he turned to look toward the center of the explosion. There, the two ships still stood facing off against each other.
The golden, holy armor had dispersed at some point, and Jean Pierre had returned to human form, standing at the bow of the ironclad.
His once-pristine white robe was now scorched a sickly yellow, his aged face looking utterly exhausted, and most notably, his once-clear, luminous eyes had dimmed considerably.
Though he had successfully blocked that fatal strike, the archbishop looked to be in considerable strain.
"My fleet..."
Francois shook his head with a sigh from behind him, gazing at the wreckage strewn across the surrounding sea, his face full of heartache.
He felt no grief over the sailors' deaths, only a kind of regret, the sort one feels over an accidentally lost fortune.
"I never expected Roselle would truly be willing to go this far, actually using a Sequence 2 potion on it."
He remarked with feeling, looking toward the other side.
On the opposite ship, the woman in the black dress was watching them with equal contempt.
She reached out again, pressing her hand against the cannon.
Chaos and disorder once more seized control of the surrounding space, powerful spiritual energy gathering within the black gun barrel, a second shell being readied for firing!
Then, with a sudden clatter, black chains shot out and violently coiled around her body, sinking deep into her flesh!
A complicated expression rushed across the woman's exquisite face, a mixture of fury and pain.
Though she clearly wanted to launch another attack, the chains bound her tightly, disrupting her every movement.
Despite possessing power on the level of an angel, she was unable to use it freely, held back by severe restrictions!
"Good, just as the intelligence said. She's been restrained by Roselle."
Seeing this, Francois finally let out a breath of relief and raised his voice, calling to the old man ahead of him. "Archbishop Pierre, if you've still got some winning move hidden away, hurry up and use it! Drag this out any longer and our mission's going to fail!"
"On that point, you don't need to remind me."
Jean Pierre first looked around, taking in the fleet's miserable state, then turned his gaze deeply toward the black three-masted ship opposite them, thick hatred gradually welling up in his once-clear eyes.
"The sin Roselle left behind, and even now, at this late hour, it's still causing death and suffering..."
He said quietly, fierce emotion buried beneath his calm words, like a volcano before it erupts.
"Bring 0-15!"
At last, Jean Pierre cried out in a loud voice.
On the deck, the priests' faces surged at once with fervor and joy.
"Yes!"
They said eagerly, and began organizing their men. Soon, four clerics emerged from deep within the ship's hold, carrying a wooden frame upon their shoulders, black cloth bound over their eyes, walking slowly across the deck in this manner.
The priests crowded around them, chanting the prayers of the Eternal Blazing Sun over and over in fervent excitement, bowing their heads to the thing resting upon the frame.
The clerics walked up to Pierre and knelt together, lowering the frame so that the object upon it rested right within the archbishop's reach.
There, upon the wooden frame, lay something wrapped in many layers of parchment, utterly unremarkable in appearance.
"Well then, I'll step aside for now..."
Major General Francois's spiritual instincts were screaming warnings at him.
As a hunter, he trusted his intuition completely, and with a soft chuckle he turned and retreated into the ship's hold, hiding himself in the shadows.
Jean Pierre stepped slowly forward, his expression full of reverence, and lifted the parchment-wrapped object.
With a soft exhale, the four clerics turned to ash simultaneously, and a single gust of sea wind was enough to scatter them completely.
"Praise the Sun!"
The priests prayed fervently to the dust now dispersing into the air. "Blessed are those who burn themselves for the Lord's glory, and worthy of the Lord's commendation..."
Pierre did not join in their prayer.
Instead, he slowly undid the parchment's seal. It was ordinary paper with no trace of the extraordinary about it, as though torn from some ancient tome, covered in lines of handwritten Ancient Fusack script: "I am the beginning, and I am the end."
"I am the way, the truth, and the life."
"And God said, let there be light. And there was light."
"The earth was formless and void, and darkness was upon the face of the deep; and His spirit moved upon the face of the waters..."
"He called the light Day, and the darkness Night."
Sealed Artifact 0-15, "The Fourth Sun"!
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