The Villainess's Reputation [Kingdom Building]

The shockwave reached Lucas's vessel a second later, rocking the command ship with a sudden, powerful jolt. Alarms were raised, men began shouting in panic, and mages scrambled to erect barrier spells.

Lucas gritted his teeth, bracing himself against the railing.

"What in the hell was that?" he muttered, his jaw tightening. A second explosion answered him, more violent than the first. It tore into the side of one of their larger imperial warships positioned on the outer perimeter. The vessel didn't stand a chance, its starboard flank erupted in fire, the wooden planks bursting outward as flaming debris shot into the sky like shrapnel. Men screamed. The sound of splintering hull and rushing water echoed across the battlefield. Within moments, the bow of the ship was gone, swallowed by fire and fog, with twisted blackened timber sinking into the sea.

Then came another blast. And another. Each detonation sending shockwaves through the fog-laced waters like ripples from a god's hammer.

Lucas's eyes darted back and forth across the thick white curtain surrounding them. Visibility was near zero. But even without sight, the truth was dawning on him, the enemy had baited them. This seemingly 'natural fog' was part of a larger plan.

"Damn it…" Lucas growled. "They're blocking our advance. Those vessels are meant to break our formation!"

From the side, a young mage sprinted toward him, gripping a parchment crackling with faint magic. "Commander!" the mage shouted breathlessly. "This is the real-time position map! All our vessels have begun reporting their coordinates!"

Lucas snatched the parchment from his hands, scanning it quickly. Though the thick fog robbed them of line of sight, the empire's navy had prepared for situations like these. Each ship could relay its location using encoded magical messages, allowing the command ship to generate a dynamic map of their fleet's relative positions.

His fingers traced the lines, following the formation, warships had begun to drift too far apart. The flanks were vulnerable, the center fractured by chaos, and the outer circle… was already collapsing under pressure from the detonating enemy ships.

"Get the mercenary fleet and standard warships into a defensive line!" Lucas barked, his voice slicing through the chaos like a blade. "I want them forming a barricade immediately! Prioritize protecting the rear and center!"

"And the troops, sir?" the mage asked quickly.

"Have the infantry prepare to board the nearest magic ships," Lucas ordered. "We'll regroup aboard ships still holding together. Those enchanted hulls can endure the incoming vessels, we can win this but only if we act now!"

The mage nodded, his fingers already racing across the parchment as he channeled message spells through the ink and flowers. Sigils lit up across the surface, and with a flash, the orders were transmitted across the battlefield.

Another low rumble rocked the fleet. Lucas gripped the railing tighter, his mind racing. He could barely make out the shapes of burning wreckage drifting past them, half-sunken, still glowing orange at their cores.

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Kim City wasn't just defending—it was retaliating with terrifying coordination. The fog, once an inconvenience, was now their ally. And Lucas was starting to realize that their enemy wasn't just hiding.

They were herding them into a trap. Lucas's expression twisted in frustration, his jaw clenched. "We have the numbers, experience, and equipment," he muttered under his breath, eyes scanning the fog-drenched waters beyond the deck. "They can only slow us down... not stop us."

But even as he said it, doubt lingered at the edge of his thoughts. The silence following the explosions was almost deafening. The chain of fast vessels had ceased, and with it, the violent tremors that had plagued their ships. For a brief moment, the chaos subsided.

Lucas gripped the railing, observing the outline of their makeshift barricade forming through the mist. Warships and mercenary vessels had finally come together, creating a jagged, imperfect wall across the sea. The gaps between ships were being filled quickly, mages reinforcing the weak spots with barrier spells, and sailors frantically tying lines to lock the ships in position.

The command vessel gave a gentle sway, signaling that the formation was holding, for now.

Lucas straightened, his voice sharp and commanding. "The barricade will hold. That's our opening: get the knights into boats!" he shouted. "We'll move in waves. Smaller vessels, fast and light, will sail around the fog and flank the harbor!"

Generals, Officers relayed the command instantly, shouting orders down to the crew. A new wave of urgency spread across the decks. Knights, armed and armored, began climbing into the smaller transport boats moored along the sides of the larger ships. Ropes were tossed down. Oars clattered into position. The first line of boats began lowering into the water with loud splashes, their crews preparing for a high-speed push around the fog's outer edge.

"Move fast, and keep low!" Lucas barked. "They're targeting the big ships, so the small boats should slip through!"

No sooner had the words left his mouth than a sharp whistling sound sliced through the air. Something massive hurtled through the fog, trailing an audible hum. A thunderous crash followed as it struck the reinforced hull of one of the magic ships. The barrier shimmered with impact; motes of light scattering like fireflies in the wind.

Mages on board reacted instantly, chanting in unison. Wind spells, drawn from blue-petaled flowers, were summoned to intercept the next incoming projectile. A burst of swirling currents slowed the object in midair, spinning it before it crashed harmlessly into the deck, skidding to a stop just meters from Lucas's boots.

He stared down at the massive bolt, its steel tip still glowing with residual heat.

"A ballista bolt?" he muttered. "With steel reinforcement?"

Before he could process further, a shrill chorus of whistles erupted overhead. One bolt became three. Then five. Then a volley. The sky above them turned into a storm of iron-tipped death.

The mages scrambled to respond, raising more wind barriers, deflecting as many as they could. Some bolts were stopped mid-flight, sent spiraling into the sea. Others grazed hulls, snapping masts or embedding deep into the wooden structures. Screams echoed from distant ships as unlucky crews took direct hits.

Lucas's fists tightened at the sight.

"How can they have this many?" he hissed, staring into the unseen shoreline. "This kind of production—this kind of coordination..."

His thoughts reeled. For a moment, his mind was blank. Then, with a deep breath, he steadied himself. The panic subsided. Cold focus returned.

He slammed a hand on the railing. "Rush the boats! Now!" he ordered, voice booming above the chaos. "Ignore the bolts—we can't delay any longer! Once a good number of our knights reach that port, the tide of this battle will shift in our favor!"

The officers moved fast, their own morale steadied by his command. Dozens of boats launched into the water, slicing through the waves as knights rowed with synchronized precision. The fog still hung thick around them.