Naval Gacha System: It's Time To Monopolize The Seven Seas!-Chapter 284: | | Operation Retribution Freedom: Collapse of Citrus Part 2

Inside the bunker deep within the northern port, the lights were dimmed as the air was crowded with tension. What remained of the high command stood before each other. Each of their faces etched with anxiousness and a tinge of fear for what may become the future. A terrible news had met them. Of the seven ports that supported the fortress island of Citrus, only the north endured.

None could prevail against the onslaught of steel walkers that encroached the island. They were fighting a losing battle, and all of them understood such a simple fact.

"Is there any news about the Lord of Citrus?" One of the generals questioned, earning the furrowed eyebrows of his colleagues. The Lord of Citrus... Although not an important aspect in the war effort, he was the ruler of the fortress island. His authority was undeniable, even amongst the armies of the Colonial Dominions. It was for this reason the high command placed importance upon him.

"We haven't heard about the Lord since the invasion of our adversaries begun. I heard that the Lord was at his manor in the center of the town of Citrus during the bombardment." Another general responded to his question, earning the grunts of more. There was no doubt that the status of the Lord was considered to be dead in the minds of the high command.

After all, most survivors of the assault were soldiers deployed within the deep forest of the island. Those who dared to even unveil themselves within the camps or the town of Citrus were bombarded into damnation. None of them dared to leave the comfort of their bunker. For it was the safest place for them within the fortress island.

"This is troublesome... Are you sure about the fall of the six ports?" An old general asked, wanting to confirm the information regarding the fall of their allies. One of them nodded and reported. "We have lost contact, and the last thing we heard about them was about the steel walkers besieging their ports." When the old general heard of it. He sighed and placed his arms unto the table.

"The steel walkers. It appears they are the newest technology of the heretical nation. Alongside the steel airships, I'm curious about what they hide from the world. The United World Government, the League of Humanity must understand their threat." The old general muttered, while the others nodded in agreement. The heretical nation was too dangerous, and it was growing fast.

Sooner or later, the steel walkers and warships would be in the shores of Europa. Humanity must prepare about what was to come. Unfortunately, however, their desires to delegate information regarding the heretical nation was of no use. After all, nothing could escape the fortress island of Citrus. That much had been confirmed by their Magi.

"Should we start a counter-attack?" A general with a mustache asked his colleagues, earning their raised eyebrows. They weren't dumb or delusional. It was practically clear that they stood no chances against the heretical nation. Even now, they were barely holding unto the northern port. Most of it was thanks to the Arcanum Engines that maintained their defensive lines.

The moment the siege engines fall, they shall fall alongside with it. Such was the truth of their saddening circumstance. A destiny that shifted between life and death from every moment of action and inaction.

"We can barely last in our current position. The only thing a counter-attack does is ensure our decimation and the collapse of the armies." The old general commented as they had little to no capabilities to initialize an assault. They were barely resisting. It was akin to asking a crippled man to run when he cannot even take a single step forward.

The generals within the high command belonged to different Colonial Dominions. Each of their doctrines, though the synonymous, were inherently different from one another. Especially, their strategies. Some would be uncaring about the lives of their soldiers, while others would ensure that casualties remained as low as possible. It was the different of circumstances.

A few valued honor, pride, and duty, while a portion focused on rationality, practicality, and merit. If it wasn't for the guillotine hanging over their necks, they would have been arguing against one another. Though, the death of over half colleagues might have also quietened the high command.

"We have to make a decision, otherwise we would simply be waiting to die in this patch of land." Another general anxiously remarked, his hands barely stopping themselves from intensely trembling. It made sense. They needed to have a plan, a path to take. After all, time was ticking for them. These liven up the discussion of the remaining members of the high command.

Many wanted to withdraw from the island. But with the ships sunk, there wasn't a single path for a mass retreat. As said before, they were trapped. The second option was lasting as long as possible within the northern port and resisting. Utilizing the underground tunnels, they could avoid clashing with the steel walkers and survived the entire ordeal that was the invasion of the heretical nation.

The plan was fairly simple. Through the underground tunnels that connected the fortresses scattered throughout the hills of the island, they could hide while also resisting against the steel walkers. Since the bunker has proven itself effective, there was no doubt that the underground tunnels might be able to resist the bombardment of the steel warships.

Of course, this was assuming that the shells wouldn't directly land above the underground tunnel. Even with the ground as a barrier, their underground tunnels would collapse if directly hit by the bombardment. There was also a possibility that they could be stranded if the two exits collapsed, which was a fate that could be worse than death.

Other than the underground tunnels, there was also the utilization of the Magi. Through magicraft, they could ensure that the underground tunnels or bunkers would be far stronger than normal. It would also assure them that they would remain hidden from the heretical nation that had conquered the surface of the fortress island.

As their plans was about to reach its finalization, the bunker shook with intensity as dust fell from the ceiling. The lamps swayed while their radiance flickered. Surrounding walls cracked from the pressure while a resounding explosion deafeningly blasted their ears.

*BOOM!!!*

"We have to move!" The old general yelled as they reached the doors and escaped through the staircase leading to the surface. The explosion was exceptionally strong. It made them wonder if the entirety of the island was sinking. After all, even their protective bunker was falling apart. When they reached the ground floor, a group of Magi awaited them.

These group were calm, but there was no doubt that the Magi were anxious. Being trapped didn't bring them a tinge of relief. Especially with the ineffectiveness of their spatial transmission spells. It was improbable escaping, so they could only follow the lead of the high command. Otherwise, they would have swiftly left and returned to the Magus Tower of the Colonial Dominion.

"Sir, the defensive lines have fallen. The Arcanum Engines have been bombarded, leaving not a scrap of metal behind. The soldiers defending the fringes are retreating and converging within the northern port. They await your orders." A Magus reported to the generals, whose cold sweat dripped from their foreheads.

As they left the ruins of the high command center, they were met with the sight of thousands of soldiers. Most were bloodied, shocked, and broken. The fringes of the northern port was no less of a hellscape. It was a massacre. An officer walked towards the high command with tears dried up. "Sir, all of my men have died, but they fought until the very end."

"What are your commands, Sir?" The officer asked the general, wanting to be pointed a direction. With hope lost, their duty was what maintained their sanity. If they couldn't even follow upon their duties, then they would break apart like a loose sand castle crashing a tide of despair.

The generals glanced at one another. Their previous confidence, hope, and determination dimming by the moment. Over a thousand of soldiers stood before them. Their single decision would decide their fate. There was no denying it anymore. They stood no chance against the heretical nation. No one could deny this single fact.

As silence consumed all of them, the ground rumbled with footsteps. They were coming. The steel walkers that had conquered the entirety of the fortress island and massacred the survivors of the bombardment. Death was creeping into their doorsteps. It was knocking unto their doors, wanting to come inside and take their souls.

The old general took a deep breath and wondered if his decision would be looked back with disdain by the future generations. Gazing at his colleagues for a moment, he stepped forward with a straightened back. His heart pounded as he gave the last of the armies an order. "We have lost... We stand no chance against our adversaries. We cannot resist, nor can we defend ourselves."

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"We must surrender."

His words echoed throughout the somewhat desolated northern port. The remaining of the generals didn't renounce him as no path dwelled before them other than death. Tears escaped the eyes of the soldiers. Their heart confused, relieved, and saddened. It was unfortunate, but this was war. It was either this or the opposite.

A lone white flag was raised from the flagpole that remained standing at the very center of the northern port. The soldiers threw their muskets and swords away as they kneeled to the ground with their arms planted beneath them and spread wide open. The MECH Squadrons encircled the survivors from every side, their EM rifles glistening with power.

The fortress island of Citrus had collapsed.