Leave the Villainous Second Male Lead Alone - Chapter 8.5

Still, I couldn’t help but grimace at the brute-force design. What if Callisto’s ship sank during a ramming maneuver? My stomach churned at the thought. Pressing my fingers against my temples, I tried to ease the mounting headache.

Meanwhile, the fleet’s preparations continued unabated. Despite my concerns, Callisto’s armada was finally ready to depart.

As the fleet raised their sails, Blast Harbor was awash with vibrant color. Callisto’s royal banner, featuring two crimson swords crossed against a blue field, was hoisted atop the flagship’s mast. The massive square sails caught the wind, billowing majestically, while rows of oars moved in unison, slicing through the waves.

At the prow of the flagship, standing tall and unwavering, was Callisto. Framed by the pale morning light, his figure cast a long shadow over the deck. As his ship passed the docks, the assembled crowd erupted into cheers.

“Hurrah!”

“Second Prince!”

“Admiral!”

The fleet’s unconventional flagship seemed to matter little to the enthusiastic onlookers. Their cheers grew louder, filling the harbor with energy.

Following the flagship, a line of heavily armed warships departed first, comprised of seasoned vessels from Callisto’s North Sea campaigns. Behind them came Briné’s newly constructed hybrids, their unique design drawing curious stares.

In perfect formation, nearly a hundred ships set sail, their prows cutting through the water as they embarked on their journey.

News of Callisto’s departure likely reached Roen’s forces through land routes, prompting them to set sail as well. Within two days, the two fleets were expected to clash in the waters near Serbil—a narrow strait located between Gunther Harbor and Blast Harbor.

Serbil’s treacherous waters were fraught with hazards. Jagged rocks and hidden reefs demanded precise navigation, and towering cliffs offered potential cover for ambushes. To make matters worse, a dense fog rolled in at dawn, reducing visibility to mere meters.

Standing at the prow of his ship, Callisto scanned the murky horizon, his golden eyes narrowing. “Lower the speed,” he commanded.

The order was swiftly relayed, and the sails were partially lowered. The rhythmic creak of oars gradually subsided, and an eerie stillness blanketed the fleet. Only the occasional cry of seabirds pierced the silence.

“Admiral, the First Prince’s fleet is still out of sight. Should we maintain our speed?” asked the helmsman.

“Yes,” Callisto replied curtly, his gaze fixed on the horizon. In such poor visibility, the enemy could appear at any moment. He raised a hand to issue additional orders.

“The moment they’re spotted, maintain distance. Gunners, prepare to fire.”

“Aye, Admiral!”

The crew scrambled into position, their boots thundering across the deck. Cannons were loaded, ready to unleash a devastating barrage. Minutes later, faint lights flickered through the fog—lanterns from the First Prince’s fleet.

A grin tugged at Callisto’s lips as he raised his hand high. “Open fire!”

The cannons roared to life, their thunderous blasts shattering the eerie stillness. Explosions illuminated the fog as the First Prince’s lead ships reeled under the barrage.

The Battle of Serbil had begun.

The hesitant voice of a soldier interrupted the expected reply, grating on Roen’s nerves. With a sharp glare, he turned to see the source of the disturbance: a visibly shaken soldier, stammering as he reported.

“Th-The second deck has been hit by cannon fire, and water is leaking in. The rowers are panicking, making it difficult to maintain full speed…”

“Your Highness, we should withdraw the fleet temporarily to repair the damage to the second deck before advancing again,” Harrington Duke interjected, backing the faltering soldier. “The same issues are occurring on several other ships.”

Roen’s expression darkened further with every word. He let out a sharp, incredulous laugh, running his fingers through his disheveled golden hair.

“Withdraw the fleet? Is that what you’re suggesting?”

His voice growled, reverberating with barely restrained fury.

“We outnumber Callisto’s fleet in rowers, soldiers, and ships. Why should I retreat?”

“Your Highness, forcing the rowers to maintain full speed in this condition might leave them too exhausted to function when the battle begins,” Harrington said cautiously.

“And why should that matter, Uncle?” Roen retorted icily.

“…Pardon?”

“They’re slaves chained to their oars, aren’t they? Use the whip to make them move!” Roen snapped.

“Your Highness,” Harrington began, his voice heavy with concern. But Roen cut him off.

“If the rowers die, we’ll use new ones. If the ships fail, we’ll transfer to another. That’s why we brought them here in the first place, isn’t it?” Roen’s words were sharp and unyielding.

“Enough!” Roen barked. “Full speed ahead! That’s an order.”

With the supreme commander’s decree, Harrington could only concede, stepping back in grim acquiescence. The soldier lowered his head and acknowledged the command.

“Yes, Your Highness. Full speed ahead!”

“Full speed ahead!”

Across the fleet, the crack of whips echoed. Rowers chained to the second deck pulled against the oars, trembling with fear as seawater crept closer. Their desperate efforts drove the massive galleys forward, the rhythmic creak of oars growing louder as the fleet accelerated. The enemy fleet of Callisto came into clearer view as the distance closed.

The closer they got, the more intense the cannon fire from Callisto’s fleet became. However, at this range, even the shorter-range cannons of Roen’s fleet began to strike true. Roen watched, satisfaction spreading across his face as cannonballs crashed into several enemy ships, splintering their decks and sending debris flying.

“Bring us closer!” Roen shouted. “Keep firing!”

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