Müller Empire, Coastal city dockyard.
As the Azimuth-class battleship ascended to 18,000 feet, its advanced detection systems immediately picked up three other Azimuths—silent sentinels waiting in formation above the clouds.
Arthur and Erich glanced at the display.
"Our escorts are in position," Erich noted.
Arthur nodded. "Good. Let's not keep our fleet waiting."
The Azimuth carrying the Wallonian duo and the Frechenian delegation began its descent toward the Müllerian-controlled coastal city, where a massive 120-ship Wallonian fleet had already docked inside Müllerian waters.
Aboard those ships, 80,000 elite Wallonian Marines waited for further orders, unaware that their presence had already triggered an ultimatum from the Müllerian Empire—one that demanded their immediate withdrawal.
But before any negotiation or withdrawal could be enacted…
The sky and sea erupted in fire.
Müllerian Aggression
The first shockwave came from the Müllerian coastal defenses.
Massive artillery batteries, hidden within fortress emplacements along the cliffs, unleashed a ferocious barrage.
From the sea, battleships and coastal cruisers opened fire, their deck guns roaring as they hurled shells the size of small vehicles toward the Wallonian fleet.
The air was filled with the whistling of incoming ordnance—and within seconds, the coastal city transformed into a battlefield.
Arthur's Response: Operation Gluckus
Arthur, watching the chaos unfold, let out a booming laugh.
"Hah! They want war? Let's give them a demonstration!"
His expression twisted into a smirk as he issued the order:
"Begin Operation Gluckus."
The room fell silent for a brief moment.
Then, Wallonian military doctrine went into motion.
A Devastating Counterattack
From the Sea:
Wallonian destroyers and missile cruisers retaliated instantly, unleashing precision-guided cruise missiles toward Müllerian defensive emplacements.
Carrier-based aircraft launched, immediately gaining air superiority. Stealth bombers, drones, and fighter jets tore through Müllerian positions like a scythe through wheat.
Wallonian battleships, vastly superior to their Müllerian counterparts, returned fire with their railgun cannons, annihilating entire squadrons of enemy ships before they could reposition.
From the Land:
The 6 Marine Divisions, totaling 80,000 soldiers, stormed the city, utilizing advanced mechanized armor, exoskeletons, and unmanned combat units to crush resistance.
Urban combat specialists cleared buildings with ruthless efficiency, systematically destroying Müllerian holdouts while minimizing collateral damage.
Heavy artillery and mobile missile platforms obliterated strategic enemy positions, cutting off supply lines and escape routes.
From the Sky:
The three Azimuth battleships, watching from 18,000 feet, activated their bombardment arrays.
Orbital bombardment systems rained down kinetic rods, striking Müllerian fortifications, power grids, and military command centers with pinpoint accuracy.
High-speed drone swarms descended on enemy anti-air installations, rendering them defenseless against the ongoing assault.
Within minutes, the once-proud Müllerian coastal defenses were in complete disarray.
The entire city was thrown into chaos, with Müllerian officers screaming into radios, desperately trying to rally their forces.
But it was too late.
The True Purpose of Gluckus
Despite the devastation, Operation Gluckus was not meant to conquer Müller outright.
Its goal was to show power.
To break morale.
To send a clear message—that Wallonia could destroy entire regions with ease and yet choose restraint.
The Müllerian command finally realized this—and within hours, a desperate ceasefire request was sent.
Arthur grinned, turning to Erich.
"Message received, wouldn't you say?"
Erich chuckled, his voice dripping with amusement.
"Loud and clear."
As the Wallonian forces began to withdraw, their objective completed, the Müllerians were left to pick up the shattered remains of their arrogance.
And the world?
The world had just witnessed the true might of Wallonia.
The Aftermath of Nephelheim
The Wallonian fleet, having completed Operation Gluckus, had no intention of lingering in hostile waters.
With perfect discipline, the 120-ship armada regrouped and began its return voyage, leaving behind a smoking, crippled Müllerian coastline as a reminder of Wallonia's might.
Above them, the four Azimuth-class battleships, including the one carrying Arthur and Erich, ascended into the clouds—their mission now shifting toward their next priority: the Frechen Republic.
Müllerian Fury
The Imperial Palace, Berghenz, Müller Empire
Within the grand halls of the Müllerian Imperial Palace, rage and humiliation echoed through the chambers.
Emperor Friedrich IV of Müller, known for his iron-fisted rule and explosive temper, stood in front of a large war table—his knuckles white from gripping the edges as he listened to the reports from Nephelheim.
His advisors and generals stood in stiff silence, their faces pale, their uniforms drenched in sweat as they tried to maintain composure in the presence of their furious ruler.
"Ceasefire?!" Friedrich roared, his voice shaking the room. "You're telling me our forces—our imperial army, our mighty fleet—were FORCED into a CEASEFIRE?!"
The highest-ranking general, Field Marshal Rüdiger Falke, cleared his throat, attempting to remain calm.
"Your Majesty, our forces in Nephelheim reported severe losses. The Wallonians attacked with—"
"I KNOW WHAT THEY ATTACKED WITH, YOU DAMN FOOL!" Friedrich slammed his fist against the table. "I want to know WHY our forces surrendered!"
Falke swallowed hard. "Your Majesty, they didn't surrender. They requested a ceasefire because… because they were utterly outmatched."
The room fell silent.
Friedrich's gaze darkened. "Explain."
Falke took a deep breath.
"The Wallonians deployed an overwhelming show of force. Their fleet suffered minimal damage while our coastal defenses were obliterated. Their Marines landed and neutralized our garrison before we could mount a proper counterattack. Our air and naval forces were wiped out within hours. We had no choice but to cease fire before total annihilation."
Friedrich's teeth clenched so hard it seemed they might break.
His hands curled into fists, his chest heaving with restrained fury.
"So you're telling me… we lost. And they got to walk away unpunished?"
Falke lowered his gaze. "Yes, Your Majesty."
Friedrich slowly turned, his expression shifting from rage to something even darker.
A cold, calculated malice.
"If those bastards think this is over…" he muttered, "...they're dead wrong."
He turned to his advisors.
"Mobilize the High Command. We're not finished with Wallonia yet."
Wallonia Moves Forward
Meanwhile, the Wallonian delegation aboard the Azimuth-class battleships remained unfazed by the rage of the Müllerian Emperor.
Arthur, sitting in his private quarters, sipped on a glass of aged whiskey, gazing at the holographic display showing their fleet's movements.
Erich leaned against the wall, watching him. "So, what now?"
Arthur smirked. "Now? We prepare for the next move. Müller won't stay quiet, but let's see how they react to losing before we decide our next step."
Erich chuckled. "And the Frechenians?"
Arthur took another sip. "They'll get what they need. The world just learned that allying with Wallonia isn't a gamble—it's an investment."
He set the glass down, his eyes shimmering with cold confidence.
"Let them come. We're not done of course."
The Return to Wallonia
En Route to Frechenia
The massive Azimuth-class battleships soared through the sky with precision, their immense forms cutting through the clouds like celestial titans.
The four battleships carrying the Frechenian delegation split from the 120-ship Wallonian fleet, heading toward the Frechen Republic's capital. The remaining ships of the fleet maintained formation, gradually dispersing as orders were given to return to their respective bases.
Inside the lead Azimuth, the Frechenian delegation—comprised of their President, top military officials, and key ministers—stood in a grand observation deck, gazing at the futuristic technology that surrounded them.
The Frechenian President, Louis Durand, a tall man in his late fifties with silvered hair and sharp blue eyes, turned to face Emperor Arthur and Chancellor Erich.
Final Words Before Parting
Louis Durand: "Emperor Arthur, Chancellor Erich… I must admit, what we witnessed today has changed everything we thought we knew about power in this world."
Arthur smirked, his posture relaxed but his eyes calculating.
Arthur: "That was just a small demonstration, President Durand. Wallonia has no interest in conquest—we only make sure those who wish us harm understand the consequences."
The Frechenian generals and ministers exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of awe and unease.
Frechenian General Auguste Moreau, an older man with a grizzled beard, spoke up next.
Gen. Moreau: "Your ships, your weapons… even your tactics. They're beyond anything we've ever seen. This alliance isn't just an opportunity for Frechenia—it's survival."
Erich, who had been silent, finally spoke, his tone diplomatic but firm.
Erich: "That's exactly what we want Frechenia to understand. This world is changing rapidly. Old empires like Müller and Przesky still believe they can dictate the rules. We're here to show them otherwise."
The Frechenians nodded solemnly, absorbing the weight of the conversation.
Louis Durand: "Then our course is clear. Frechenia will honor this pact, and in return, we'll give you whatever resources and manpower we can spare. The Frechenian people will remember who stood with us in our darkest hour."
Arthur extended his hand. Durand grasped it firmly.
Arthur: "Then let this be the beginning of something greater, Mr. President."
With that, the Frechenian delegation prepared for landing.
---
Leaving Behind a Guardian
As three of the Azimuth battleships turned away to return home, the fourth remained, taking position over Frechenian airspace. This single floating colossus would serve as a diplomatic hub and a powerful deterrent, its presence alone ensuring no nation dared to threaten Frechenia.
From the observation deck, Durand and his generals watched as the three departing Azimuths accelerated toward the horizon.
Gen. Moreau: "With that thing guarding us, I'd like to see Müller try something now."
Durand exhaled, watching as the Wallonian superweapons disappeared into the sky.
Louis Durand: "Let's just hope we never have to call on them for war."
---
The Journey Home
Arthur and Erich sat in the command room of the lead Azimuth as it and its two counterparts activated their hypersonic engines, accelerating rapidly.
Within twenty minutes, the Wallonian ships broke through the clouds and descended upon the mountainous heart of their empire.
What lay beneath was a sight that could make even the most hardened generals pause.
---
Wallonia's Hidden Fortress
Nestled deep within the mountains of the Wallonian Empire, a massive military-industrial complex sprawled out over hundreds of kilometers.
Vast dockyards lined the valley, filled with ships of all sizes, some resembling conventional warships, while others bore sleek, spacefaring designs. Towering shipwrights loomed over the complex, their construction efforts never ceasing.
Some of the structures looked ancient, as if built over decades—perhaps even centuries—while others gleamed with the latest innovations, showing the continued advancement of Wallonia's secretive projects.
As the Azimuths descended, they were guided to a massive landing platform, where a contingent of high-ranking officials and military personnel awaited them.
Inside the Fortress
As Arthur and Erich stepped out onto the landing deck, they were immediately greeted by Marshal Alexander Vaulfort, the head of Wallonia's space and naval development program.
Vaulfort, a man in his sixties with white hair and a cybernetic eye, saluted sharply.
Marshal Vaulfort: "Welcome home, Your Majesty, Chancellor. The reports from Operation Gluckus were received. I take it the Müllerians were taught their lesson?"
Arthur chuckled.
Arthur: "They learned it the hard way."
Vaulfort smirked.
Vaulfort: "Good. The shipwrights will be pleased to hear that our efforts were put to use. Speaking of which…"
He gestured toward one of the massive shipyards in the distance. There, under construction, was something far greater than even the Azimuth-class battleships.
A massive, incomplete structure—a true capital ship, possibly even capable of interstellar travel.
Erich narrowed his eyes.
Erich: "That's not a battleship… That's a dreadnought."
Vaulfort nodded.
Vaulfort: "We call her the Imperius-Class. Twice the size of the Azimuths. Fully integrated with next-generation weapons and defense systems. This will be the backbone of our future fleets."
Arthur took a long look at the partially completed warship.
Arthur: "Then we better finish her. Because Müller isn't going to stay quiet for long."
---
The Next Move
With Wallonia's return home, the preparations for the next phase began.
Müller had been humiliated, but they wouldn't sit idly by. Przesky was watching, waiting for its chance to strike.
And across the world, the other great nations were beginning to realize that the balance of power had shifted.
The question was no longer who ruled Altaires—
It was who could stop Wallonia from taking what it wanted?
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