Although not as often shrouded in mist as the Mist Sea, the northern regions of Sunya Sea still occasionally experience thick fog, especially in the mornings during autumn and winter. The "Blue Avenger," commanded by Algier Wilson, is navigating through such conditions, returning along the boundary of Sunya Island to the coastal region of Ruin—something he has needed to do after staying in the northern Sunya Sea too long. Amid the pale, misty atmosphere, the ghostly vessel moves quietly, appearing and disappearing as if part of an undisturbed dream. Algier is caught in the wind, suspended at the window, gazing out upon the world blanketed in white, his thoughts drifting freely to distant places. Suddenly, his gaze sharpens, a hint of silver flashing in his pupils, and he sees a large ship with sails cutting silently through the distant fog. This vessel is not alone—several others follow in its wake, one, then two, then three—forming a long, steady fleet. "The Sunya Sea fleet of Fesak... they've all come into action... where are they heading?" Aljer's feet suddenly settled onto the deck. His gaze immediately shifted to the other side, toward the location of Sunya Island. Through the various exchanges during the Tarot gathering, Aljer had already come to understand that world tensions were high, with war imminent. Now, with this moment's reflection, he formed a clear hypothesis. For both the Fesak Empire and the Kingdom of Roon, Sunya Island was a strategically vital location. If Roon were to seize it, Fesak's eastern naval forces would be cut off in the cold north, unable to contest the various colonial islands of the Sunya Sea or reach Eastern Bayland. Moreover, after launching a war, Fesak would have to either cross the Mandara Mountains or traverse the Intersea, navigating through several defensive counties to threaten Roon's heartlands—a task that would be extremely difficult, if not impossible. And if the island of Sunia falls to the Fasaq Empire, all ports in northern and central Ruin—from Enmat Port to Priz Port—will come under attack, and if Fasaq commanders dare to take risks and are willing to absorb losses, they could even directly target the capital of Ruin, Becland, located not far from the ports. It is precisely for this reason that the two nations have waged the "Twenty-Year War," in which the Fasaq Empire achieved victory and secured the vital "southern corridor." In the subsequent "Betrayal War," Ruin won the war but failed to regain its territory, achieving only half of its strategic objectives. Aljer gazed thoughtfully, then spoke seriously: "Will war break out again..." ........ Becland, a large and well-organized Fasaq air fleet advanced from the northern sector and entered the skies of this major city. As soon as they drew near, places like Saint-Wind Cathedral seemed already prepared. Suddenly, the wind grew fierce, transforming into a series of massive, dark-blue blades that roared toward their targets, like cannon shells fired into the air. Just as these blades were about to slice through the airbags of the airship formation, an invisible defensive barrier emerged, deflecting all the attacks outward. Amid the violent assault, this transparent "wall" trembled, wavering under the strain, yet ultimately held firm. At the same time, cannons, machine guns, and launch ports on the airships opened up, aiming downward. Boom! As the hurricanes formed around Saint-Wind Cathedral, explosive sounds radiated out in all directions. Within this terrifying storm, the airships resembled vessels navigating a sea, heaving and swaying amid towering waves, teetering on the brink of being tossed far away. At that moment, on the lead airship, a radiant glow blending blood and rust surged, enveloping all the companions and linking them one after another. Suddenly, Fussak's airship fleet stabilized amidst the gale, no longer resembling fragile vessels tossed about in a storm. "The Red Priest" wielded a power rooted in war—a force that thrives through unity! This was the authority of the "War Bishop!" After repelling this wave of assault, Fussak's forces, before the other counterattacks arrived, launched a series of bombs through their launch ports, sending them plummeting downward. Amidst the gale, the trajectories of these bombs became unpredictable even to themselves. Roar! Roar! The gunports flared with fire, radiating the war god's delight. The airship fleet did not attempt to cross into Beckland's northern region, but instead turned westward—toward the political heart of the Roon Kingdom. ………… Northern Region, Beckland Technical University. The yellowed leaves of the Indian-wood trees fluttered and drifted with the wind, students carrying books or bags moving in and out across the campus. As members of a prestigious university and as the first cohort of this newly established institution, these young people were full of energy and enthusiasm for the future, gathering every day to discuss their aspirations, recite poetry, and study technology—simple, yet joyful. Among them walked Melissa Moretti, glancing up at the wall clock atop the main teaching building, her steps subtly quickening. Today, she was heading to the president's office to assist in preparing for the upcoming establishment of the mechanical laboratory—a project she deeply admired and found particularly exciting. It brought her a daily sense of joy and made her feel that campus life was truly wonderful, with the students so endearing. Subconsciously, she also glanced again at the steam locomotive displayed at the center of the square, its massive and intricate form radiating the endless charm of the mechanical world. Many students liked to gather there, tapping and studying the structure, yet the administration neither encouraged nor discouraged this activity. Melissa smiled slightly and was about to shift her gaze. Suddenly, something gray and metallic descended from the sky and landed squarely in the center of the plaza. Thunder! The ground shook violently, and all the glass panes of the main academic building shattered. Had Melissa not been somewhat distant, she might have been blown off her feet by the surge of air. An indeterminate number of cries erupted, and like the other students, she panicked, scrambling in all directions, unsure of what had happened. After all, she was only sixteen or seventeen, and had never truly experienced such a scene before. As the swirling dust settled, Melissa, who had taken shelter behind a tree, instinctively turned her gaze back toward the site of the explosion. Her expression froze instantly; her eyes grew glassy and unblinking. The steam locomotive's engine had been shattered into four or five pieces, scattered all over the ground. Students surrounding or passing through were already lying motionless on the ground, some with bodily impairments, others covered in blood and scorched marks, still groaning in pain. Such a scene appeared as if painted in an oil painting—so unreal. Melissa stared at it in silence, momentarily stunned, unable to react. Carter, a male classmate she knew who was deeply thoughtful and well-researched, always spoke with confidence during discussions, declaring his ambition to become a marine engineer—now, he was left with only half his body, his intestines spilled out on the ground. Yudora, another classmate, majored in mechanical engineering but had a profound passion for poetry, displaying notable talent and earning great admiration from those around her; sometimes, Melissa would attend their gatherings, quietly listening as Yudora recited poems, finding her truly captivating—now, Yudora had one leg completely torn away, lying half-unconscious, groaning in pain. In just a few seconds, the futures of these individuals had been brutally upended. It wasn't until several teachers rushed out of the teaching building, beginning to rescue the injured and organize student evacuations that Melissa finally came to her senses, quickly joining them. "Listen," she said, "divide into two groups—one to the laboratory area, the other to the Tennes church; both have underground spaces where people can take shelter." One of the teachers, though his face was filled with fear, remained composed, making clear and firm arrangements as if he had received specialized training. He glanced around, noticing that the students still hesitated to move away from him, and quickly added, "Don't worry— the enemy's airships have turned westward and are now heading toward the western district. There's no danger here." With each of his words came a steady rumble of explosions coming from the southwest. The western district—where the royal council, all departments, and the city hall were located—came to mind instantly for Melissa. As her eyes flickered, she suddenly tightened her lips and turned, rushing toward the school gate, ignoring the calls from the teacher behind her. Moving through the sheltered areas, Melissa soon reached the street, breathing heavily, scanning left and right to orient herself. At that moment, she spotted a nearby subway entrance. Though her heart was racing, she remembered the teacher's words: "There's an underground area where you can take shelter!" The subway was underground, wasn't it? The bombing had just begun—surely the subway hadn't stopped yet. As her thoughts raced, she rushed toward the entrance bearing visible signs of bomb damage. At that moment, she surveyed a scene of utter chaos—buildings collapsed, flames blazing crimson, limbs and bodies scattered, blood pooling everywhere, while cries, screams, and orders rose continuously. Seeing this, Melissa grew increasingly anxious, striving to reach the four-story building housing the Royal Treasury. But it had been sealed off: the glass was shattered in many places, walls dotted with dense bullet holes, and some areas still bore traces of explosions. Circumnavigating the perimeter, Melissa tried to enter, only to be blocked by soldiers maintaining order. Her urgency grew, and her eyes were now glistening with tears. Just then, she spotted a familiar figure—Benson, without his hat, black hair and brown eyes. As soon as he saw Melissa, he rushed toward her, his earlier anxiety easing, his anger now evident, shouting: " How did you get here? Why didn’t you go underground? I’m safe right here! Hurry—come with me to that side!" "You didn't go down there either, did you?" Melissa had meant to reply that, but her vision had already blurred. "Phew," Benson exhaled, softening his tone, "Good. Just get moving—don't linger on the street." Hearing this, Melissa's anxiety and concern suddenly settled, in a way that felt奇妙—she now found even the thought of dying less daunting. At least, she wouldn't be the only one left at home. Suddenly, a bomb was blown across the sky by a gust of wind and headed straight for the area. Then, inexplicably, it veered sharply, flying horizontally. Boom! It exploded mid-air, sending only a ripple of wind.