What is that?
Crescent Bay.
The calm surface of the water suddenly twisted.
From far away seeped a low, crushing doom— like pressure that pressed down on the sea.
At first, no one could identify it.
It was neither a wave nor thunder.
It sounded like the footfall of something enormous.
"What is that?"
"A cannon?"
"There was nothing like that on Goryeo soil!"
Before the words finished, the sky flashed.
The air itself burst.
KWAAAAAANG!!!!
The explosion arrived not as sound but as force.
A weight that pierced through the chest bones and seemed to echo from behind.
Breath stopped first.
A large ship's mast snapped.
The deck lifted as a whole—then flew apart.
Men were flung away like broken toys, cut loose in midair.
Soldiers screamed.
"The sky has torn open!"
When the second blast struck, the hull held for a heartbeat—then shattered.
Moments later the ship disintegrated.
Shards of iron and splintered wood tore into flesh.
One Japanese soldier clutched his abdomen and collapsed into the sea.
"That isn't sword or spear."
"It's a ball of fire."
Samurai and ashigaru froze where they stood.
The same sentence surfaced in all their minds:
this war follows a different path from any fighting we have learned.
An officer aboard the command ship screamed until his throat tore.
"Re-form the line!"
"There are only five enemy ships!"
"We outnumber them!"
But no one stepped forward.
Even armored soldiers in tatami armor shook so badly they could not hold their spears.
The image of a capital ship breaking apart in just two shots was burned into their eyes.
The allied fleet drew closer.
From afar, they could see Park Seong-jin—called the Demon—being carried forward at the bow.
The instant his body flashed across a deck, some Japanese soldiers' lips moved on their own.
"…Is that a man?"
On the decks, news ran ahead of him.
The demon had appeared—fear spreading like contagion.
"If you look away, your head falls."
"Blood sprays before the blade even touches."
"He walks on water."
Those stories traveled faster than swords.
Because the ones who carried them came back alive to testify.
When two command ships were destroyed by bombardment, the remaining samurai grabbed one another and shouted,
"Where is the general?!"
No answer came.
A ship without its commander loses structure first.
Rowers stop.
Archers look backward.
Swordsmen retreat.
The body of the fleet stiffened all at once.
Those few who survived and fled back to their islands left the same words behind.
"There is a demon in Goryeo."
"There is one who commands thunder."
"There is a master who crosses the night sea."
"Samurai and ships alike are broken in a single blow."
The lords of Kyushu, Iki, and Kagawa reached the same conclusion.
"We stop striking that place."
The rumors crossed the sea to Tsushima.
They reached the ears of the shogunate.
The number of frontline ships was not large.
Few in number—yet larger than the Japanese vessels.
Seven ships in total.
Two were still under conversion.
Only five were fit for combat.
Those five carried a power unknown to Goryeo's seas.
Four Daehan heavy cannons.
Improved rams.
The helmsmanship of Jang Bogo's descendants.
Rotating gun mounts built by Daehan engineers.
The weapons were not many.
But the flow had already changed.
Park Seong-jin raised the bow and pointed east.
"Break Paezhou first."
Paezhou's coast was in ruins.
The walls of thatched houses had collapsed.
Smoke still drifted without dying out.
Traces of people were faint—
the villagers had fled into mountain fortresses.
Eighteen Japanese ships filled the empty shore.
Three large vessels.
Six medium.
The rest light craft.
An improvised camp stood along the coast.
Samurai were dividing loot after their raid.
At that moment, Haechil and the four ships behind it slowly emerged offshore.
The Japanese laughed.
"That's all?"
"Why so few?"
They had not yet understood.
It was not spear or sword approaching—
but thunder.
A signal flag rose.
Red cloth snapped in the wind.
Port gunports open.
Fixed angles held.
First volley.
A gunner touched the fuse to flame.
The black powder packed in the chamber detonated in an instant.
From Haechil's flank, a streak of lightning flashed—
then the explosion split the sea.
The first shot punched clean through the side of a medium Japanese ship.
It immediately listed.
The hull split in two.
Japanese soldiers screamed as they fell into the water.
Second.
Third.
Fourth shots followed in succession.
One ship lost its mast.
One had its oars torn away.
One had its mast ripped out entirely.
There was no time to flee.
The Japanese commander clawed at his throat and shouted,
"This isn't war!"
"They fire thunder!"
After the first barrage, seven of the eighteen ships had lost all ability to sail.
The remaining vessels, soaked in terror, tried to close in.
Distance: one hundred fifty paces.
The second volley followed.
KWAAAAANG!
KWAANG!
KWAAAAANG!
Three ships lifted—then collapsed into wreckage.
The Japanese soldiers had no way to fight.
To board, they would have had to ram hulls together and climb—
but no time was given.
They leapt into the sea.
Cut their own rigging.
Hands that should have steered trembled uncontrollably.
The waters before Paezhou filled with shattered hulls and debris.
An oil stench spread across the surface.
This time, no chance for close combat came.
Park Seong-jin said briefly,
"Catch only those who flee."
Scout ships clung to the remaining vessels.
Archers and spearmen rained fire from the decks.
That was enough.
Sunk: twelve ships.
Captured: four.
Escaped: two.
Enemy dead: over four hundred.
Prisoners: fifty.
Allied losses: light wounds only.
Local garrison troops moved in to clear the wreckage.
Park Seong-jin's fleet did not stop.
It turned north, toward Seungju.
Watching Japanese soldiers sink beneath the water, Park Seong-jin said quietly,
"If we retake Seungju, the road opens."