Chapter 111 Naval Battle (3)
The leading Lysian warship was instantly barraged. Wooden splinters erupted like shrapnel, gaping holes tore through the hull, and seawater surged in like a relentless beast.
Despite the onslaught, the Reese fleet did not falter. With a thunderous roar, they surged forward, closing the gap and unleashing their own devastating dragon-hunting crossbows. In the sky above, a chaotic dance of blackened bolts crisscrossed like clashing lightning, filling the air with an eerie symphony of destruction.
The massive warships endured the assault, their thick hulls groaning under the relentless force. But even their formidable construction could not withstand the dragon-hunting crossbows' sheer power. The deck of a Lysian vessel suddenly exploded as a monstrous bolt, launched from one of Gavin's bed crossbows, speared through the ship like a demonic lance. It crashed through the wooden guard rails, carving a bloody swath through the ranks of Reese soldiers.
A dozen men fell where they stood, their bodies shredded before they could even scream. Blood fountained into the air, limbs were torn asunder, and the deck that had moments ago been bustling with life was now slick with death.
One of Gavin's sail warships, like a beast driven to fury, rammed straight into a Lysian vessel that had been left vulnerable by incoming water. The impact split the enemy ship in two, sending shattered wood and broken bodies tumbling into the churning sea. The waves swelled violently, towering like mountain peaks, swallowing the desperate cries of drowning men.
As the warships neared bow-and-arrow range, the battle intensified. Gavin's archers let loose a relentless rain of arrows, darkening the sky in their deadly descent. The Reese soldiers, caught off guard, scrambled to raise their shields. Those too slow to react were struck down, their screams cutting through the din of battle.
Recovering quickly, the surviving Lysian archers retaliated. Their bows twanged in unison, sending a volley of arrows in return. Some found their mark, piercing the armor of Gavin's soldiers, felling them where they stood. The battle devolved into a brutal exchange of fire, with arrows colliding midair, scattering in all directions like shattered stars.
Meanwhile, the flagship of Gavin's fleet, the Belerys, charged into the heart of battle. A steel fortress upon the waves, it cut through the chaos, its massive hull scattering waves in its wake. The sound of its impact against enemy ships was deafening, shaking the heavens themselves.
High above the battlefield, Gavin rode Syndor, his mighty dragon, surveying the carnage below. With a powerful flap of its wings, Syndor swooped down, diving into the fray like an avenging god. Panic surged through the Reese crossbowmen as they struggled to adjust their dragon-hunting weapons. But Gavin's archers kept up their relentless barrage, pinning them down.
"Take aim!" one of the Reese officers shouted, his voice shrill with desperation. "Bring the beast down!"
A few crossbows fired, but Syndor was too fast. The dragon twisted midair, its scales gleaming in the dimming sunlight, dodging the incoming projectiles with effortless grace.
Gavin wasted no time. He drew back his keel bow, eyes locking onto a Reese warship that had just fired. A flaming arrow shot from his bow, streaking across the sky like a meteor. It struck the enemy's dragon-hunting crossbow, igniting it in a fiery explosion. Wood and metal fragments rained down, and the soldiers near the blast were torn apart. The remaining Reese soldiers recoiled, terror flickering in their eyes.
Syndor roared, his mighty wings unfurling as he spewed forth a torrent of dragonfire. The enemy warship was instantly consumed in flames, the heat so intense that the air itself seemed to waver. Reese soldiers shrieked in agony, their forms lost in the inferno as the fire spread hungrily to the sails and rigging.
Without hesitation, Syndor turned its fiery wrath upon the next warship. The side of the vessel buckled under the combined force of heat and impact, the wooden planks igniting as though they had been soaked in oil. Fire burst through the cracks in the deck, devouring everything in its path.
With the combined might of Gavin's fleet and Syndor's flames, the Reese navy collapsed. Their formations broke, their morale crumbled, and their warships—those not already aflame—turned in frantic retreat. The sea was a churning cauldron of smoke, fire, and death.
By the battle's end, Gavin had lost five warships, but the Reese fleet was in ruins. Only eleven of their ships managed to escape, their speed sparing them from total annihilation. The rest were either captured or sent to the ocean's depths.
On the high walls of Reese's stronghold, Governor Byron Heywood stood frozen, his face drained of all color. He gripped the stone parapet with white-knuckled hands, his gaze fixed on the wreckage-strewn sea.
"Gone..." he whispered, his voice barely audible over the howling wind. "Everything... destroyed."
His mind reeled with the weight of his failure. The people would demand answers. The enemy would demand retribution. His position, his power—his very life—now hung in the balance.
As the smoke from the battlefield drifted toward the city, panic spread like wildfire. The next morning, word of the blockade reached the people. Fear turned to fury. The streets teemed with citizens crying out for their lost loved ones, their desperation boiling over into rage.
A woman, her face streaked with tears, screamed at the locked gates of the Governor's Mansion. "My husband was on those ships! You sent him to die!"
An old man, his voice shaking, pounded his cane against the stone. "My son! Where is my son?!"
Inside the mansion, Byron Heywood stood at the window, watching the swelling crowd. The weight of his choices pressed down upon him like an iron chain.
A hurried knock sounded at his door before it burst open. One of his advisors rushed in, his face stricken with urgency. "Governor, there's been a coup! Senator Alek convened the council without your permission—he's already speaking with Gavin's envoy!"
Byron's eyes widened, his face contorted in fury. "That snake! He's always coveted my position, but I never thought—!" His voice broke into a snarl. "I'll have his head for this!"
But even as the words left his lips, the truth settled in his gut like a stone. His reign was over. The enemy was at the gates, and the city was no longer his to command.