The Chimeric Ascension of Lyudmila Springfield

Chapter Sixty-Nine: Naval Battle & Landfall

It all happened in the flash of an eye. Captain Caulk stood near the helmsman, chatting about the stragglers they rescued. Things about them didn’t make much sense, but the proud Hawkfolk was no stranger to survival. The small holes in their story mattered little when it was clear they fought and struggled to live. They were refugees from a neighboring country with direct experience with what happened on that horrible day. Even a part of him wondered if they could shed light on that mysterious announcement— one that sent shivers of fear into the hearts of him and his soldiers since it seemed like a great god was speaking to the soul of every man, woman, and child.    

Unfortunately for the morale of his crew, he was stuck with more mouths to feed. A vocal minority had problems because their supplies were already stretched thin. Plymoise usually acquired food from Ria’s dock since they were so close to each other. That path was sealed off weeks ago when their Holy Lord shut down the dungeon. They turned to the other city-states to fill the slack, but the terms weren't favorable. And then they were hastily mobilized to investigate Ria with a supply hold not even 1/10th enough for the number of warriors stationed on his vessel.    

There's no better way to destroy a town than to cut away its life support. I’ll never understand what that foolish lord was thinking. Her fatuousness begets trouble for those who rely on Ria. She’ll have problems getting others to trust her in the future.   

But with an order from his hawk-like mouth, his men had no choice but to make the necessary sacrifices and cut back even further on their food. Even the captain did the same, choosing two days with an empty stomach for the sake of his soldiers. Towing the vessel delayed the return. It held supplies he would have used had its crew been dead or empty. However, if things worsened, he would have no choice but to use the food it held to make up the difference.  

But it looked like that wouldn’t happen. By Captain Caulk's estimate, they were expected to reach Plymoise’s dock before noon. 

Twelve hours... Half-a-day... Let us hope the chaos from that mysterious voice has been contained.    

“Captain, the fog’s been thick for the past two days.”  

“I can see that. We aren’t in the rainy reason.”  

“Do you think it’s a bad omen, sir? With everything that’s happened in the past week, it’s hard to think of it as anything but that. Almost like the world is about to tumble around us.”  

“I suppose you’re not wrong to think like that. I can’t blame you. Perhaps we all need a week’s worth of rest? I’ll discuss it with the ruling lady when we arrive. The other ships should be ready to be christened. The Mengoire has done its duties faithfully. It needs to be examined extensively.”  

“Understood, captain. I could go for a cup of mead. Or even a ham hock. Marinated and roasted over honey? Doesn’t that make you hungry?”  

Before Captain Caulk could respond, disaster struck.    

“CAPTAIN!!!!!! LOOK TO THE PORT AND STARBOARD!!!! There’s mana coalescing!!!!”  

From high on the crow’s nest came a frantic report. Captain Caulk instantly looked to the left and right, and not a moment later, the hazy, thick fog that was so prevalent the previous days slowly thinned, revealing two Concordian-class battleships. They were smaller and nimbler, with just two masts instead of three, compared to the Mengoire.     

Time slowed to a crawl when the captain looked at the flag the ships flew.    

It matched the one displayed on Captain Caulk’s vessel. But the second rectangle was filled with orange, indicating that these ships were from Atrix—another city-state of Parthina-- and one embattled in a cold war with Plymoise.   

It seemed that the war had turned hot.   

As rehearsed a thousand times before, the captain immediately barked orders, telling everyone to assume battle positions. Those in the canteen enjoying their late-night dinner dropped everything to put their training into action. The cannons on both sides were loaded in minutes. Those of the mage battalion were weaving their protective spells to protect against incoming damage. The archers were gathering arrows and dumping the tips in oil.   

Captain Caulk took his elite squad and flew to the crow’s nest, keeping a sharp eye until he heard the ready signal.   

And once he did, he lifted his hand and waited, not wanting to be the one who attacked first. If possible, he’d like to end this in peace. Using a spell to enhance his voice, he called out to the approaching ships and demanded they return to whence they came. They were violating Plymoise territory by being here.   

“Captain, there’s no response. I see sailors on the Vladoif preparing their chainshots. I recommend—” Dyltol, Caulk’s right-hand man, was interrupted by enemy cannon fire.   

And then the fight was on. The mage battalion created a barrier barely in time to block the initial barrage. It bounced like rubber hitting a wall, but the ship was still pushed away. The light blue protective shield went down momentarily to allow the Mengoire’s crew a chance to return fire. Being a Craine-ship battleship designed with military specifications, it had twelve cannons on each side of the deck and twelve more on the mid-level. 

A total of 48-- 24 per side. 

The Mengoire fired a salvo once it was in position. The dense balls of lead mostly missed their targets, but a few made solid contact. The archers all fired a load of arrows, their flaming tips igniting the night sky, but a wave of wind magic from the Vladoif sent them scattering while the Mengoire’s crew reloaded.    

An incoming wave of [Homing Bolt] launched from the Findlay zigzagged around the sky, destroying Mengoire’s chance to let loose a second volley. The shields had to come up, but they were too late. The colorless spells exploded on the ship’s deck. Four men were blasted overboard, but there was no time to extend a lifejacket or rope because the shields were needed.    

Captain Caulk cursed this turn of events as the incoming cannons from the Findlay and the Validoif fired a collective attack of twenty-four cannonballs and sixteen explosive balls. That was enough to break through the mage battalion’s defenses, causing the fourteen members to fall to their hands and knees. Blood leaked from their pores, but another wave of [Homing Bolt] was coming in fast!  

Those bastards had time to prepare a staggered attack. Even if they were smaller, the two ships were full of supplies. As it stood, the Mengoire only had enough armaments to launch another handful of cannons.    

“BRACE FOR IMPACT!!!!” Captain Caulk shouted, holding onto the mast. Forty-two spells slammed into the ship where it met the water. The engineers in the hold immediately focused on patching and de-flooding, but the fight didn’t look favorable for the captain. He formed a fist tight enough to break through his armored gloves, then figured a close combat battle would be the safer belt. Only he and his squad could fly, so they landed on the deck and grabbed the first officer. They were commanding the medics to fetch all their mana potions.    

But before he could cough away the firesalts’ lingering scents and bark out what would likely be his final orders... 

That High Elf he rescued… The one who killed the pirates…  

She was standing on the deck-- amid the fire, flames, and chaotic discourse.   

---

There are two attacking ships, my lord. 

Tris’s voice echoed around my head as I rushed through the ship to get to the deck. She remained with Mom and the others and telepathically communicated with me.   

“Hey—Hey!!! You can’t-- Aaahhhh!!!!!” Some deckhand tried to stop me, but an impact threw us to the ground. Standing, I dashed away and equipped my guns as I leapt over a fallen beam. The stairs to the deck were right there. The smell of firesalts lingered in the thick, sooty air. I was immune to fire, but not the ashy, burnt smell. Captain Caulk’s soldiers rushed to reload the cannons while helping a group of passed-out mages.   

But I stood there for a moment, taking in the hectic atmosphere.   

This was war.   

It had to have been.   

Atrix and Plymoise? Tris told me the attacking country’s name, but my Fragment of Wisdom didn’t know their history. But this couldn’t have been anything else but an ambush.   

How foolish... 

“Surtr. Your lord needs you.”  

“I was biding my time awaiting your command,” Surtr growled, emerging beside me.   

“Show me what you can do. I desire to see your power,” I said, leaping to its back.    

Instead of replying, Surtr roared and started running. The great beast leapt into the water, but we did not sink because ice formed under its paws. But then we ascended as flaming platforms appeared under Surtr’s paws. Once we were high enough, my lion roared and gathered mana in its mouth. The air trembled, vibrating against the great power. Surtr launched a beam of pure fire across the Vladoif’s deck, slamming into the protective barrier. The group of barrier mages contorting their faces in agony passed out. Blood flowed from their lips and eyes as it looked like invisible glass shattered. The stationary flames fell to the deck, causing chaos.    

I pulled my rifle and took aim while Surtr dodged the incoming arrows and spells. This variant of the Winchester Model 1873 didn't have a scope, but [Eyes of the Huntress] and [Deadeye] kicked in. It was like I unlocked another function of the former, which gave my eyes a 2x zoom. My experience from Reina, the skill obtained from [Firearm], and [Deadeye], made me enough of a marksman to pick off heads at 200 feet with the naked eye while constantly moving on a dodging, jumping lion.   

The gun works like a dream... It’s so perfect... It feels just right. I wonder if Reina is responsible for that? 

Panicked soldiers rushed out onto the deck with buckets full of water, but they became intimate with death a moment later. Through the smoke and chaos, a cannon on the Findlay turned my way. Tris relayed commands to Surtr, who performed evasive maneuvers. Meanwhile, I gathered [Fireball] around my hand and threw it into the cannon, exploding the firesalts and causing the weapon to fall through the deck.    

Tris’s commands are coming in late…and my map is stuttering… I wonder if that’s because she’s on cooldown? At least her skills are still functional… There must be a way to increase her processing powers to prevent this. Will it happen if she evolves again?   

Surtr went left, then right. The lion dashed straight to the water and ran along the surface, doing and outrunning homing magic with the evasiveness the king of the jungle was meant to have. Leaping thrice to reach 320 feet in the air, I gripped its body with my legs, quickly reloaded, and sent four more foolish bastards on the Vladoif to hell.   

The chaos a High Elf and her lion caused meant all the attention was on us. Tris informed me Captain Caulk was using this breath of fresh air to regroup and issue orders, which I saw in a separate map window she had made. 

It was already chaotic, so why not do more? Stashing the gun on my back, I played Susize’s flute while leaping from Surtr’s back. The melody I played was hauntingly eerie, foreshadowing a parade of death, fire, and brimstone. When it ended four seconds later, great, grand, royal black wings with red energy-like pulsing veins appeared.   

My lord, there is a third ship approaching from the north. The Durely is flying Atrix’s flag. What are your orders? Tris’s voice echoed in my head. I looked towards the prismatic pillar of light she used to mark it.    

It flickered in and out and couldn’t remain stable.  

“I see soldiers on borrowed time. Surtr, take them out. Leave no survivors."

Surtr roared and took off running. My rifle transformed into Kronto. I activated {Lightning Dive}. Yellow sparks danced around me, forming a barrier as I suddenly launched towards the Vladoif like lightning. The hull stood no chance as I carved a hole to the ocean. With {Lightning Jump}, I pierced upward through the deck, becoming surrounded by a few soldiers still worth their salt. The spear vanished, a revolver taking its place. Six shots rang out when I fanned the hammer, striking the closest Snakefolk in center mass. His armor was durable, but I flew out of range of his spear’s retaliation while reloading.   

Morale was low. It was as clear as anything. From a two-ship advantage under the cover of an ambush, Atrix's hard work to take out the Mengoire was pathetic. As I was now, these small fries were like ants.   

The strength from assimilating Oswell’s bounty-hunting group showed its form. But it was also my new mindset. I couldn’t sustain from acquiring power. Fighting? I had to embrace it. 

I didn’t even need to reload six rounds. Three were enough, and I put them into the cowering soldier hiding underneath a corpse near the helm. His cries shocked the Snakefolk. During that moment, I switched my rifle, transfigured Kronto as a bayonet, and ran the slithering bastard through, bypassing his weakened armor. His blood dripped to my hands, and I threw his corpse off my spear.   

Suddenly, my mana dropped by sixty percent as five flaming pentagons appeared around the Durely. From this great distance, their screams and fruitless panic reached my ears. Surtr roared once more, and the pentagons turned into flaming pillars. They twisted like a tornado, conjoining into one destructive force that tore the ship apart while scorching the ocean’s surface. It rampaged wildly out of control, consuming those who thought they could escape by throwing themselves overboard.     

Tris’s voice appeared, telling me the Mengoire was about to launch a countervolley against the Findlay. Numerous loud explosions a breath later confirmed her words. She opened a small window in my vision of the captain and his Hawkfolk elite squad flying to the vessel. They all had their great swords out and skewered the soldiers trying to repair damage to their vessel.  I had wings. It seemed simple and effective, so I altered my strategy. Flapping my wings, I moved away from the ship and charged at the fools dumb enough to put up a fight. It was like shish kebab. Head? Heart? Torso? Stomach? It didn’t matter where I impaled them because I was too agile for them to hit.    

Once their blood stained my hands, and I had left a graveyard’s worth of corpses behind, I descended into the hold after commanding Tris to mark this ship’s captain. The passage was damp from the water flooding at the bottom, and everything was broken or shattered from my piercing dive. The captain was huddling in his office, using his axe to break through so he could escape with his life.   

But he stopped—no, they all stopped when I let my oppressive mana loose. It was like a thick haze of visible despair drenched the ship, overpowering their senses and reminding them of their darkest nightmares.    

The terror on their faces...  

I doubted they ever thought the fight would turn out like this.   

No one put up a struggle, and it was as easy as dodging from person to person and thrusting my spear through their hearts, piercing their pathetic armor, or slicing and using the tip to slit their necks—almost skin to stabbing fish in a barrel. All those standing before me or cowering were killed like the gutless trash they were as drops of slime quickly devoured the bodies. The captain wetted himself after I kicked down the door once assimilation had been hastily completed. 

I couldn’t do it above deck, but below? 

That was fine.  

GGGRRROOOOAAANNNNNNNNN!!!! 

The ship cried. With the damage I inflicted, Surtr’s flame attack, and the chaos, this ship wouldn't survive much longer. Another loud set of booms hinted at the Mengoire firing a second salvo towards the Findlay.   

Before I knew it, I was slightly smirking.  My wings spread open, flapping fast and hard to launch me like a rocket through the ship's stern. I skewered the Duckfolk captain of the Vladoif on my spear like a chunk of fresh meat. His screams were endless. I let him watch destruction incarnate. Grabbing him by the neck, I used [Chimeric Armatization] with [Fire Rain] to cause a drenching downpour of pure fire. In almost no time at all, the ship was almost completely engulfed. The flames must’ve hit a stockpile of firesalts because it exploded a second later, marking the end of this vessel.  

Tris opened a map window of Captain Caulk. He and his warriors were in combat with a one-eyed Silver Orc—the captain of the Findlay— and his bodyguards. Morale and excitement were not on his side.   

And neither were the rest of his soldiers. One coward snuck up from behind and stabbed the Silver Orc through the neck, allowing Caulk to cleave off the orc’s arm with [Jump Slash]. The rest of Atrix’s soldiers revolted against their other commanding officers, bringing a rapid end as the Mengoire prepared its final salvo. The Findlay had fourteen holes right where the water met the hull, but she was still sea-worthy at the moment. 

Surtr returned to me a few seconds later, and I showered the beast in affection and praise. We rode back to the Mengoire together, where I was met with fear and skepticism. To answer their burning question, I played my flute. The wings reverted, and I explained [Song Magic] and [Flight]—my two lies that allowed me to grow wings and fly without tipping people off about my chimerism.    

“So, no. I am not a chimera. I am a High Elf known as Lyudmila Springfield. Nothing more, and nothing else.”   

Then, and only then, was I met with a proper round of applause and cheering. Surtr soaked it up, roaring like a king.    

Captain Caulk returned a few minutes later with a gaggle of prisoners and a barely floating vessel. I told him the same thing I told his men, and I could see that his guard and anxious expression were put to rest.    

“What do you think we should do, Lord Springfield? At times like this, I value the aged wisdom from a High Elf such as yourself.” Captain Caulk and I were watching his Hawkfolk soldiers escort over the prisoners. The Findlay had about forty more minutes before it sank to a watery abyss, but a few engineers were working hard to keep it floating.    

“Kill them. That’s my choice. Anyone who attacks my family will die. If that ship’s crew didn’t want this fight, they should have mutinied earlier.”  

“Agreed. But I cannot do that. Atrix committed a grave error tonight. As such... I must take them into custody and alert the ruling lady. More than ever, I will need your testimony to the truth. Allow me to thank you and apologize. Without your excellent aim and powerful spirit, I regret to say that they would have gotten the better of us. But you are our guest. You shed blood in our defense.”  

“My family’s aboard this ship. Those onis? That girl in the hat? The cyclops and Catfolk? They’re the only ones I have in this world. If you had tried to stop me from joining the fight, we would be standing on different sides.”  

“Spoken like a true warrior, Lord Springfield. I’ll keep that in mind.”  

“Surtr.”  

“Lord Springfield?” My lion turned from the praise and looked deadly serious, awaiting any order I might have wanted to give. It was comforting to have something like it on my side. Even if it towered over me by a good two feet, I wasn't taking its strength and loyalty for granted.    

“Remain on deck to keep watch over the prisoners. You have my permission to scare and keep them in line, but you are not to eat them unless they attack first.”   

“Understood, Lord Springfield,” roared my lion.   

I asked Captain Caulk if that was acceptable, and he nodded. “By the by, what are your plans with that one? Was he not the commander of—”  

“Oh, I forgot about him,” I said, dropping the Duckfolk captain like a pile of bricks. Captain Caulk’s warriors forced the Duckfolk to his feet and slapped a pair of restraints around him. “Do what you want. I don’t care. You already know what I would’ve done. I want to return to my family, so please handle things here.”  

Captain Caulk nodded, then thanked me and Surtr once more. But the overwhelming praise didn’t come from only him.    

When I returned below deck and passed by the mess hall, word of my exploits had already spread. It looked like they wanted to pat me on the back, but no one dared to touch me.   

If I were an elf, then maybe. But High Elf? Even a king or queen would think twice about touching one without any discernible good reason.    

Maybe that’s enough reason to remain one… I wonder if it’ll do more harm than good to masquerade as a normal elf? 

This victory wasn’t without fatalities, though. Seven crew members perished before Surtr and I made it to the deck, and eight more passed after being thrown overboard by attacks they couldn’t defend against. They panicked, swam too close to the ship, and were effectively run over. Their corpses were currently being recovered.  

Was I sad?  

No, I didn’t think I was. I only fought because my family was on board. After finally making my way through the happy crew, I opened the door to our room and found myself in Irisa’s arms.    

“Are you injured?” Dad asked.    

“I’m fine, but what about you? Tris kept me informed, but...”  

It turned out they didn’t suffer any damage. The moment I left, their guardian lions emerged, smaller than they were previously, and guarded them. Tris didn’t have the spare processing power to show them a live view of my battle. 

I was thankful for that... I had fought brutally and without mercy, although Tris telepathically told me she wouldn’t have displayed the battle even if her capabilities were restored because she knew I didn’t want that.  

It turned out that fighting on lion back with a western rifle was not a common sight, especially for a High Elf—much less one with [Song Magic] and [Flight] to disguise her chimerism. Irisa was almost back to her happy, smiling self. The pain of taking life wouldn’t be eliminated from her heart completely.   

And maybe that was for the better. Once you crossed that line, it could never be uncrossed. You couldn’t change the past, no matter what you did. I just hoped Irisa wouldn’t let the nightmares fester.   

As for me? My time for nightmares was long gone. You could say my actions tonight were to reassure myself on this path I needed to travel.   

And there was no chance in hell I was going to give up.   

Whatever made me a chimera... It had to deal with the consequences.   

I didn’t give a fuck about that barrier that was supposedly weakening. Why would I when the only desire on my mind was to turn Cridia into a hotbed of death and flames?  

It didn't take long for exhaustion to reach my family. They soon drifted to sleep. The lions went to their bracelets, and Primrose returned to her core to lessen the stress on Niva.  

Tris apologized for her 'lack of adequate service' due to her cooldown and continued to pray to me.  

I told Tris she didn’t have to apologize. Her help was instrumental, which made her blush.    

“Mistress? You’re silent. Are you okay?” Niva’s sweet voice jolted me from a hasty daydream a few minutes later.  

“Ah, I’m fine. Just a little dream.” I fished for her hand and held it, then watched a laggy image of Surtr scaring the living shit out of those terrified prisoners. They were forced to sit on the deck with their hands and legs bound with chains. Only those seriously in danger of death received minimal healing. “I love you, Niva. I just wanted you to know that.”   

I couldn’t say I felt sorry for them. 

I wanted to assimilate more, so most of the dead were wasted potential power that was sinking to the ocean’s bottom.  

That was fine, though, since this was the beginning of a new chapter of my life. Once we reached land, it would be a new country with a new culture. A fresh start for me, and I knew my immediate plans. I knew what I was going to do to get stronger.    

Hopefully, Sekh would be there right beside me.    

And Tilde, too. Days later, there was no sign she was even close to returning to my life. 

“Hehe! I love you too, Mistress!” Niva’s precious smile was all I needed at the moment. 

---

When dawn rolled around, I walked to the deck, bypassing soldiers drunk on last night’s victory. The prisoners were all restrained to one area, and they sat back-to-back, foot to foot, and they all had dark black bags over their heads with gags fastened in their mouths. Captain Caulk stood near the bow, a spyglass held to his eye. Hearing my footsteps, he turned and welcomed me good morning.    

I wonder if there's an equivalent to the Geneva Conventions? Probably not.  

He said we had a good wind last night, so we were expected to arrive at port in about two hours. The men he left behind to repair the Findlay were scheduled to show up six hours later with the captured boat. Nodding, I rubbed the grand king of the jungle under its chin. Surtr gave me a quick report of last night.  

“Good work. If you’re tired, you can return your bracelet. If not, remain on deck.”  

“Understood, Lord Springfield.” Surtr nodded its large head and yawned, enjoying the morning sun against its back. But its flaming, red eyes never let the prisoners out of sight.  

As for me? I went back to our room and spent some time with my family. Dad was up, so I picked his brain. I tried to get his help to figure out more of the Latin language. It seemed we had to first identify the primary subject-- the element-- before we moved on to any modifiers, but learning a language was difficult. One from an entirely different world? Bordering on impossible, especially if you didn't have anything to decipher.   

Tris joined in, devoting 80% of her resources while using the remaining to watch for danger via [Skyview]. It meant halting production, but that was fine since I had over a hundred revolver and rifle rounds.  We had too little to use to start decoding it, but it wouldn’t hurt to try. 

Mom and Irisa attempted to help, and Niva was lost. Primrose wasn’t linguistically gifted, and my [Scholar’s Tongue] wouldn’t work since Latin wasn’t from this world. 

The only ones who could realistically help me were my former teacher and Quella, but that wasn't an option. Those sons of bitches were dead the next time I saw them. Growing annoyed, I cast their names out of my mind and spent the remaining time helping Niva practice [Mana Perception].  

Well, that’s not true. I can plagiarize other mages if I level the skill enough. That’s an option. I must get enough SP to buy it… It’s so expensive.    

About two hours later, the captain knocked at our door and said the dock to Plymoise’s ministry building was within view. We joined him on the deck, seeing the harbor reserved for government business. The building itself reminded me of a congressional structure—almost like the congress building the United States had, but it was also the ruling lady’s personal estate. 

And green. It was...just so very green... 

“You don’t need all of us there, do you? Will myself, Tris, and Surtr be enough?” I asked the captain. “My family has emergency business to take care of.”  

“That will not be a problem. Dyltol!”  

“Sir?”  

“Fly ahead and request a carriage to be prepared at once.”  

“Yes, sir!” Dyltol saluted, got a running start, lept off the ship's bow, and took flight, flapping his wings. 

“When I’m finished here, I’ll catch up to you, okay?” I told my family.   

Mom and Dad thanked Captain Caulk. Surtr inquired if it should return to my bracelet, and I nodded.   

“Very well. Call upon me whenever you please, Lord Springfield. I look forward to spilling the blood of your enemies,” growled Surtr. It almost looked like its face had a smile.