Gazing at the Sea

───「 Human POV 」───

Above the Mariana Trench, within the aircraft carrier's command center, Commander Chester strode purposefully toward the conference room, his secretary, Lowell, following closely behind. A meeting awaited them, and time was of the essence.

"The Pacific Fleet currently operates four aircraft carriers, the Atlantic Fleet has three, and the remnants of the Indian Ocean Fleet also have three, bringing our total to ten active carriers. At present, five of them are undergoing synchronized upgrades across five shipyards along the East Asian coast."

"What's the estimated completion time?" Chester asked, keeping his pace steady.

"Six days per batch, meaning a full cycle will take twelve days."

Chester let out a low chuckle. "East Asia lives up to its reputation. No one matches their manufacturing speed."

A bell chimed through the corridor, signaling the end of the morning shift. The sound of boots against steel echoed as soldiers made their way to the cafeteria.

"There's another matter," Lowell continued. "Several officers from the Atlantic Fleet want to discuss the rotation schedule with you. They claim their crew members haven't adjusted to the time difference yet and are requesting to join the next shift."

Chester exhaled sharply. "They're getting softer with age. Tell them to take it up with Yuri. If their own commander can't talk sense into them, I certainly won't waste my time."

As they turned a corner, Chester instinctively sidestepped an oncoming wave of personnel. Once the corridor cleared, he glanced at his watch and quickened his pace.

"What's next?"

"Senator Amano has invited you to this afternoon's inauguration of the first Anti-Godzilla Cannon. He wants you to cut the ribbon."

Chester frowned. "Me? Why not General Sato Hirozo? Isn't he the Army Commander? Where is he?"

"He's attending the cannon inauguration in Osaka."

Chester sighed. "Fine, I'll do it. But tell him it's a bit premature to start celebrating our post-Godzilla plans."

"Understood. We need to head to the third floor."

Reaching the elevator lobby, they activated it via voice command. As the doors slid shut, Chester resumed the conversation.

"What's the status of the new warships? They promised thirty destroyers a day. It's been five days, and not a single one has rolled out."

Lowell's expression stiffened. "The Unified Military Industrial Bureau halted production. After recalculating, they realized standard destroyers aren't capable of posing a real threat to Godzilla. The internal compartments simply can't support the required capacitance."

Chester's jaw tightened. "So what's the alternative?"

"They've redesigned the specialized warship models—massively scaled up. Each one is now equivalent to seven previous destroyers in terms of size and power."

"And the catch?"

"The first prototype won't be ready for another sixty days."

Chester scoffed. "Slower than the cannons. By the time it's finished, will it even matter?"

"We don't have many options. This is the only feasible approach. Besides, the cannon and the warships require entirely different materials, so their production timelines were never going to align."

The elevator doors opened, and they stepped out into another steel-gray corridor leading to the conference room.

"So, with no warships ready, what does our Navy have to offer in terms of support?" Chester asked.

Lowell hesitated before responding. "Support? Commander, you know as well as I do—there is none."

Chester's eyes narrowed.

"The current sentiment among lawmakers is that the Navy should serve as the first line of defense. If Godzilla moves toward Australia, we're expected to intervene and redirect its path. If it heads east, we provide auxiliary strikes from the coastline. But let's be honest, sir—we've been sidelined. We are no longer the primary force against Godzilla."

"Even these so-called specialized warships are designed to strike Godzilla from land, not to engage it at sea."

Lowell braced himself, expecting an outburst from his superior.

Instead, Chester slowed his pace, turning his head to glance out the corridor's narrow window. His voice was measured, yet laced with contempt. "Handing over the largest battlefield… Letting the enemy land on our soil before we even engage? Hmph… Look at the sea. Abandoned by them? Those bureaucratic bastards."

He said nothing further.

His strides lengthened, his posture rigid with determination as he approached the conference room doors.

Lowell, trailing just behind, instinctively followed Chester's gaze. But instead of the vast ocean, he saw something else—soldiers finishing their meals, returning to duty, and warships crammed against the horizon.

Abandoned by them, indeed. The bastards.

Chester pushed open the heavy doors, stepping into the room where familiar faces awaited.

Commander Yuri of the Atlantic Fleet. The commanders of various aircraft carriers. Several deputy commanders.

And, at the center of them all, a holographic projection of Professor Andrei—his head buried in reports, seemingly absorbed in his work.

Chester wasted no time. "What the hell happened?"

Despite his direct question, Professor Andrei didn't acknowledge him. The scientist remained fixed on his data, unmoving, as though he wasn't even present in real-time.

"Just wait a moment," a voice interjected.

It was Commander Yuri. Though bald and appearing youthful, Yuri was in his fifties—the youngest among the three fleet commanders, but far from inexperienced.

Chester exhaled sharply, scanning the room before finding a seat. He sat, waiting for the meeting to begin.

Ten minutes passed before Professor Andrei finally stirred. The tension in the room thickened.

Something was wrong.