The thick fog cleared, revealing a blood-red sunset.
After the Great Sea Battle, the waters were a wasteland of wreckage, with ship fragments and sailors' corpses floating everywhere.
With the fog closing in and the battle going against them, the Alliance Navy withdrew from the battlefield first after a chaotic melee.
Edward watched them leave, but chose not to pursue.
"How did we fare?"
He sighed and spoke into the shell in his hand.
"We're still counting. We lost six Extraordinary Vessels. Thankfully, all four legendary ships are unharmed; only the Sun and Sea God sustained damage to their hulls... We also lost countless other sailing ships and warships, and more than seven thousand men!"
The reply came, and Edward nearly staggered.
Seven thousand elite sailors were no small loss. They couldn't simply be recruited again at a moment's notice.
The foundations of Augustus, this pirate empire, were still far too fragile.
"As for the United Fleet, I believe their losses were greater than ours. Eight steam-powered ironclads were sunk, along with twenty support vessels, and they lost more than ten thousand men!"
"It's a Pyrrhic victory... Looks like my strategic talents are nowhere near the Pirate Great Emperor's!"
Edward sighed.
"Even though it was only a hard-won victory, as long as we control the coastal waters, the United Fleet's transports won't make it through unscathed... And these losses will sting the nations of the O'Farrell Continent for a while. They might form a coalition out of momentary indignation and greed, but they certainly won't want to bite off a mouthful of hard bone. So... the empire's crisis is over."
Nifadora's voice came clearly through the shell.
Overseas campaigns were always extravagant and costly, no matter the era.
After the kingdoms of the O'Farrell Continent had tried it once,