"Splash!"
At ten o'clock that night, in the northern Aiken Sea, Blazing Sun Fleet, Fleet One.
Inside the ship's command room, Lieutenant General Bilson, the temporary commander of the task force, gazed through the curtain of rain at the blurry Crescent Strait in the distance. He calmly lit himself a cigarette, his expression brimming with composure.
Clearly, he had absolute confidence that his side, working with Fleet Two in the south to bombard Crescent Strait, would crush the Imperial Third Navy, whose number of warships was far inferior to theirs.
After all, preparations for this pincer operation had begun more than ten days ago. They had even resorted to transporting warships overland by manpower, creating an unprecedented strategic advantage for this battle.
Under Marshal Reginald's arrangements, the enemy fleet had already been completely surrounded, with no possibility of escape.
Even if the enemy's Horst battlecruiser carried the Empire's strongest Omega-Class Magic Cannon, which could trigger an unprecedented tsunami with a single shot and wipe out eighty warships in an instant—
According to intelligence brought back by their spies planted within the Empire, after firing that shot, the Horst's hull would be reduced to scrap, and the enemy ship would completely lose its combat capability.
What was more, with less than ten kilometers separating the two sides, once that terrifying Magic Cannon was fired, the enemy warships and even the southern coastal defense guns would be swallowed by the tsunami as well.
Therefore, so long as the enemy commander was not an idiot, and believed he still had a route of retreat without knowing there was an ambush behind him, he would not make such a mutually destructive decision.
Instead, just as Marshal Reginald had predicted, he would coordinate with the coastal defense guns to try to contain the assault of