Reincarnated with the Country System

The 28th Fleet of the Indiana Empire broke formation first.

From the Bernard command bridge, it was like watching a tide twist itself into a spear. Two hundred and twenty warships shifted into a wide V-shape, the fastest ships—sleek Fire Galleys and enchanted Frigates—rushing to the front. Behind them came Arcane Galleons and thick-hulled Ships of the Line, cannons loaded, sails glowing with arcane propulsion. At the very rear, towering above all, was the monstrous Nagaratha-class carrier, Vosha, its magic tower dormant—for now.

Hundreds of flying beasts darkened the sky above the fleet—Thunderbirds crackling with storm energy, winged serpents with steel-like scales, and griffin riders forming arrowhead squadrons.

At the very heart of the formation sailed the flagship—Vaishra Dawn—a massive Arcane Battleship. Upon its decks stood Fleet Admiral Varun, his golden armor gleaming in the sun. Behind it loomed Vosha, the Nagaratha-class carrier, a floating fortress of mythic proportions. Its ornate towers crackled faintly with restrained magic. From its launch decks, dozens of flying beasts rode the winds—Thunderbirds, wyverns, wind-serpents, and trained beasts of war mounted by elite Aerial Riders.

On the Bernardian Side

The sea was a calculated machine.

The Bernard Empire's fleet had split into three groups:

Carrier Group South — BNS Alberto

Carrier Group Center — BNS Akagi

Carrier Group North — BNS Yorktown

Guided by encrypted satellite data and synthetic reconnaissance, they had formed a kill zone—a calculated perimeter of death. Every inch of ocean between them and the enemy had been mapped, analyzed, targeted.

Aboard BNS Yorktown, Admiral Akari stood on the command deck. Around him, sensor officers called out readings.

"Sir. Indiana vessels now entering tactical range. V-formation steady. Multiple aerial units overhead. Altitude: 900 to 1,200 meters."

"Begin tracking. No firing until they're within our confirmed engagement envelope."

The atmosphere was tense, like a coiled spring. Radar operators stared at their screens. Weapons crews stood at the ready. Across all three carrier groups, the order was the same: wait.

Wait until they were close enough to ensure maximum lethality.

The Indiana fleet advanced, unaware.

The moment came.

"Sir. Target fleet has entered primary strike range."

Akari gave the command:

"All stations, fire at will."

The calm shattered.

Torpedoes surged from the depths—launched by silent Bernardian submarines stationed beneath the surface hours earlier. Dozens of sleek steel projectiles cut through the water like silver phantoms.

From destroyers and missile cruisers, cruise missiles launched in synchronized waves.

Gunboats opened fire, their railguns and autocannons firing in timed bursts. Battleships fired cannons.

The high-velocity autocannons tracked aerial beasts, firing 20mm and 30mm rounds with extreme precision. Missiles with thermal seekers locked onto large targets.

Boom. Boom. BOOM.

A full storm of metal met the front line of the 28th Fleet.

Several Indiana frigates were annihilated instantly—torn apart mid-wave.

A Fire Galley broke in half, flames licking across its deck before it exploded.

One Arcane Galleon caught fire, its mana-reactive hull overloading after a direct missile strike. It cracked open like a melon, spilling fire and screaming soldiers into the ocean.

Overhead, the sky rained feathers, blood, and ash.

Thunderbirds, wyverns—were hit too. The beasts twisted in the air, screeched, and fell with their riders still strapped to the saddles. They hit the water like comets.

Dozens fell.

Aboard the Vaishra Dawn, Admiral Varun narrowed his eyes as he watched the front row of his fleet crumble.

"Report!" he barked.

A subordinate, clad in ceremonial chainmail and robes, bowed.

"Eighteen vessels lost in the first wave, my lord. Five crippled. Wyvern riders are under fire. Thunderbird formations falling. Their machines are… precise."

Varun stood silent, calculating.

Then he turned toward the Vosha, the massive carrier behind his flagship.

"Send the command to Vosha. Prepare the Storm Invocation. Bring the tower online."

★★★

The order was dispatched instantly.

Aboard Vosha, hundreds of mages and engineers swarmed into the belly of the ship. It was a massive floating temple as much as a carrier, housing thousands of infantry, flying creatures, and arcane power conduits.

The Storm Invocation Tower, located at the aft structure, began to hum.

Drums were beaten. Spell-chants echoed. Crystals the size of human torsos glowed with inner light.

The deck crews secured all flying creatures. Ritual guards encircled the tower. The atmosphere was tense, reverent.

"Tower reaching full charge. Lightning capacity rising."

A blue line of energy climbed slowly up the tower. Sparks leapt off the railings. Then—

A vertical pillar of azure magic blasted skyward, piercing the clouds.

The sea rumbled.

The wind began to howl.

The sky blackened, as if a god had reached down and torn the sun from existence.

The crew of the Bernard Empire watched in amazement. This was the first time they had seen something like this that had changed the atmosphere.

Thunder rolled. But it wasn't natural—it was shaped, guided by sorcery.

Then the lightning began.

Dozens of bolts struck the ocean. They twisted mid-air, homing unnaturally toward metal. One Bernardian destroyer—BNS Gallant—took three hits in a matter of seconds. Its forward mast exploded. Smoke billowed from its side. Alarms blared. Crewmen leapt into the sea.

Another bolt scorched the deck of BNS Ferox, burning a radar dish to slag.

Aboard BNS Yorktown, Admiral Akari didn't flinch. He was already raising his binoculars, tracking the flash of the magic tower.

"They're using battlefield sorcery. Smart. Limited by charge time, but devastating if timed well."

He lowered the binoculars and turned sharply to his air officer.

"Launch aircraft. Priority strike on their carrier. Now."

FLIGHT DECK – BNS AKAGI / YORKTOWN / ALBERTO

Aboard all three carriers, launch crews rushed into position. Red lights flashed across the flight deck.

Chalk crews moved into lines. Pilots, already in their G-suits, climbed ladders into cockpits.

"Tower, this is Sword-One. Engines hot. Requesting launch clearance."

"Sword-One, cleared. Launch in 3… 2… 1… GO!"

The first F-35B roared down the flight deck of Alberto and leapt into the sky. Then others.

MiG-29Ks followed from the Yorktown and Akagi.

The aircraft flew from the three aircraft carriers to complete their missions.

Pilots were fed real-time coordinates from orbital relays. The entire airspace had now become a modern dogfight—jets and flying beasts crossing paths.