On Eldraeth Isle, two massive aircraft carrier fleets had assumed their positions—one to intercept, the other to launch the assault.
Every single missile locked onto its target at the Yaspian Ocean, where the Saint Warriors of the Criele fleet had gathered.
Aboard the Beast, the entire mercenaries erupted into cheers as the light-speed warship leaped back into combat.
Every mercenary who risked their life for money knew that as long as the Divine Drakebane was alive, they might collect a large sum of money.
They would fight anyone as long as they received enough money. Even if it meant going up against Autreynian or Tanquerian armies.
If the stakes were great enough, they would act without hesitation.
The armed mercenary forces that have been fighting for a long time know that those so-called indestructible and powerful are just a fart.
When the missiles flew, it didn't care about diplomacy. It tore through lies like paper.
Many mighty nations, despite outward pressure and military threats, were neither fearful nor weak. It was because their politicians were concerned about their interests being jeopardized.
All that talk about protecting the people was just the story they sold to the public. They would rather choose dialogue and tolerance.
Their previous so-called confrontations, provocations, and so-called friction-making seemed like a real war was coming. These enemies were all created by agreement between them. It is nothing more than transferring internal conflicts and highlighting the existence of power.
The global situation looked tense to the common folk, but it was just a game between great powers.
Only the brainless people would join them in shouting war.
The ignorant were only fooled, they had always achieved mutual success.
Following the storm, comes the quiet. Hostile high-level officials in various regions have already hugged and kissed.
Meanwhile, these so-called justice warriors among the masses still clung to their outrage—"Why didn't we go to war?!"
They remained clueless about the truth that the highest degree of competition is gamesmanship and deterrence rather than war.
Once the masks come off, all that strength becomes nothing more than paper tigers. Especially for a country like Criele.
They were clamoring all over the place to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Draconia as if they were equals.
However, they had no idea that those so-called aircraft carrier strike groups were pieced together from knockoff ships. It was nothing more than a fancy-looking fake.
The true military giants of the world such as Autreynia, Tanqueria, and Draconia had long seen through the illusion, but they chose not to talk about it.
However, what was happening in the Yaspian Ocean now wasn't a game between great forces. This was private revenge.
Eldraeth Isle's carrier group and the Beast weren't here to play by international rules.
Their main mission was to take down the Criele's carrier battle group and protect the light-speed warship.
The Eldraeth Isle aircraft carrier battle group, as well as the Beast, had the world's most modern missiles and aircraft.
By comparison, Criele's equipment looked useless before them.
In just five minutes, their Saint Warriors's carrier fleet was unable to withstand the battle.
Although none of the missiles they launched struck the light-speed warship, the two commercial escort fleets were tearing into them with merciless precision.
In desperation, Ragnar Robinson, commander-in-chief of the Saint Warriors aircraft carrier battle group, had no choice but to send an emergency call for backup to the highest military committee.
Jolgeir Flett, the supreme commander of the highest military committee, couldn't have imagined even in his worst nightmares that things would spiral this fast.
The light-speed warship hadn't even fired a shot at them yet, but Eldraeth Isle's carrier fleet and the Beast had unleashed a full storm of missiles upon them.
Criele's high command had gambled everything on that one bold strike against the light-speed warship.
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