Chapter 108 Reese's Response

Gavin jumped off Syndor's back, his body light but still carrying the weight of exhaustion from the battle.

Hassan, who had been waiting for Gavin's return, hurried over as soon as he saw him land. His face was filled with eagerness and respect.

"Sir, what was the result of this battle?" Hassan asked, bowing slightly with a tone full of reverence.

Gavin, though clearly fatigued, still had the glint of victory in his eyes. "The power of wildfire is indeed beyond imagination. All the warships in the Yege Island military port have been burned," he said. He paused, his brow furrowing slightly before adding, "Unfortunately, there are not many wildfires left now. This unexpected opportunity… this is the only time we had."

Hassan quickly nodded, his face brightening with hope. "That's very good, sir. With less than seventy Lys warships remaining, a naval battle is definitely no match for us." He raised his head, concern evident in his eyes. "You haven't rested all night. Please, go back to your room and take a nap. I'll keep an eye on things. The fleet won't reach Reese until tomorrow."

Gavin nodded in agreement, his steps slow and heavy as he made his way toward the cabin.

Inside his room, Gavin collapsed onto the bed, his tired body sinking into the mattress. Despite his exhaustion, his mind remained sharp, analyzing every detail of the mission.

In this assault on Lys, nearly all the fleets from the Stepstone Islands had mobilized. Gavin had made the decisive move to split the fleet in two. Sixty massive sail warships—powerful, unstoppable behemoths—had charged directly toward Lys Island. They were to be the main force, responsible for destroying Lys's fleet and capturing the city.

The remaining thirty or so longships were tasked with blocking the sea routes between Lys, Tyrosh, and Myr. Their goal was to delay the enemy's response and buy precious time for their own forces.

Using the information obtained earlier, Gavin knew Reese's fleet had docked at three ports. He had cleverly utilized the Lysian longship he'd captured when he seized the Lysian envoy to plan a surprise night attack.

The longship had been filled with wildfire, and under the cover of darkness, Gavin had targeted the largest military port in Lys, intending to burn it and its warships in one fell swoop. He had also hoped to eliminate the Sann family's warships that might be aiding the enemy. The first part of the plan had gone off without a hitch.

Now, as long as Tyrosh and Myr were swiftly eliminated and Lys Island captured before they could react, Gavin would secure victory.

By that time, even if Tyrosh and Myr were reluctant to acknowledge it, they would likely not dare to act rashly, and the conquest of Lys would be seen as inevitable.

Inside the Reese Governor's Palace

Governor Byron Heywood's fury exploded when he received the news that the military port and warships on Nightsong Island had been burned. His anger was like a volcano erupting, shaking everything in its path.

"A bunch of trash!" he roared, his voice thundering through the room, echoing against the walls. The sound was so powerful it seemed to shake the very air.

He paced furiously back and forth, his eyes bloodshot and his face twisted with rage. The veins in his neck bulged, and his expression was so dark it could have spilled ink.

But as the storm of anger ebbed, a deep fear began to surge within him. He had never anticipated that a dragon would possess such destructive power. The dragon's might made him feel small and helpless.

His body trembled slightly, beads of cold sweat trickling down his forehead and cheek. "Did the Faceless Men fail? Why is Gavin still alive? Damn the House of Black and White! What are they doing? Can Reese withstand such a powerful force?" His once unwavering confidence was now replaced with confusion and fear.

"Convene a meeting of governors immediately!" Byron barked in a voice that was almost a roar. "All warships must leave the port and assemble without delay!" He forced himself to bark the order again, though his tone was less confident than before.

"Pass my order to the weapon craftsmen—tell them to work day and night! We need a sufficient number of dragon-hunting crossbows made as quickly as possible to prepare for any emergencies!" His words were urgent, filled with desperation.

Suddenly, he snapped at his attendants, his voice sharp. "Send a message to Tyrosh and Myr immediately. Request an urgent meeting with the Three Cities Alliance!"

The tension in the room was palpable. The air seemed to thicken, suffocating everyone in its heaviness. Governor Heywood's heart was a tangled knot of rage, worry, and fear, and he couldn't escape it.

With the order issued, Reese seemed to spring into action.

At the port, the remaining sixty-one warships set sail quickly, their sails billowing in the sea breeze. Soldiers moved in swift coordination, fully equipped and ready for battle.

One by one, the warships left the port, their oars rising and falling in unison, cutting through the water with precision. The atmosphere was tense, the masts casting long shadows as the warships sailed out into the open sea.

At the same time, two specially designated ships raced toward Tyrosh and Myr. Their bows cleaved through the waves, leaving wide trails behind them, the sails taut in the wind as they sped toward their destinations. These ships carried Lys's last hope, their mission critical to their survival.

In Lys, soldiers moved quickly, carrying weapons and supplies to the blacksmiths. The clang of metal echoed through the streets as final preparations for war were made. The city was charged with the atmosphere of anticipation, the uncertainty of what the next day would bring hanging over everything.

The next morning, the sky was a brilliant blue, cloudless, and calm. The sun shone brightly, casting its light freely upon the ocean, which mirrored the sky like a vast, still mirror.

The remaining 61 warships of Lys floated gently on the water, their hulls rising and falling with the waves.

Yet despite the serene appearance, the tension aboard the ships was thick. Soldiers stood on the deck, their postures straight, but their eyes betrayed the deep worry and fear inside them. Their hands gripped their weapons tightly, as if they could somehow find strength through them.

The sea breeze ruffled their hair, yet it did nothing to lift the heavy atmosphere. The soldiers stood in uneasy silence, the only sounds being the soft crashing of the waves against the ship's hull and the occasional sigh breaking the stillness.