Dragon Raja 3; Chapter 155: Night of Wind and Tide (5)

Dragon Raja 3

At Yokosuka Naval Base, the duty room was in chaos.

“Calling the USS St. Louis! This is Yokosuka! Answer! Answer!” the duty commander shouted into the microphone.

“What’s going on? What is the St. Louis doing?” a rear admiral rushed to the command console.

After suddenly receiving a tsunami warning, a Perry-class frigate from the Seventh Fleet took shelter in Atami’s fishing harbor. But now, the computer showed that the frigate was raising anchor and setting out to sea.

The radio remained silent. Unlike a fishing boat, a frigate could not be completely abandoned even in the face of a tsunami. The captain or first officer had to remain on board to stand watch. Yet, no matter how Yokosuka called the St. Louis, there was no response—it was as if the ship was completely unmanned.

The lieutenant colonel switched to the closed-circuit television feed from the cockpit, allowing those in Yokosuka to directly see the situation on the St. Louis. As expected, the cockpit was empty, while outside, explosions rocked the ship, shockwaves blasting through, and shards of glass flew everywhere. The force of the shockwaves hurled bloody remains into the cockpit, where they slowly slid down the walls.

“My God, what is it doing?” The rear admiral was dumbfounded.

“Judging by the ammunition inventory, it’s fighting something,” the lieutenant colonel said. “No one is piloting it… the St. Louis has gone mad!”

“Do you hear anything strange?” the rear admiral suddenly asked.

“The sound of waves, explosions, and… crying!” the lieutenant colonel shouted. “I hear a baby crying!”

He turned up the volume, and everyone could hear it now—a piercing, high-pitched cry that stabbed into their ears. It was less a cry and more like the ghosts of hell singing together.

“Oh, God…” The rear admiral made the sign of the cross over his chest. “Are those demons?”

A mermaid climbed along the mast of the Flying Whale Maru, reaching the highest point and leaping toward the deck of the St. Louis. The CIWS system instantly elevated its gun barrels, and the tungsten-armor-piercing rounds formed a metal waterfall that engulfed the mermaid. It exploded into a bloody mist in mid-air. The next moment, the Flying Whale Maru was shattered by a 76mm rapid-fire cannon.

Thousands of corpses drifted in the harbor, and the waves gradually carried them back out to sea. A few corpses were washed ashore beneath the cliff, wedged between the black rocks. The moon’s glow slipped through the clouds, illuminating the curled backs of the dead mermaids, their jagged spines faintly glowing.

This was not an illusion but real monsters of the world. Hiroshi Kimura tightly gripped the wooden Buddha pendant around his neck with one hand and held Su Enxi’s phone in the other. That phone held the power of life and death; as long as he held it, he could save Atami.

Su Enxi had the upper hand, but her face bore no joy. She stood against the storm, her gaze fixed on the horizon where the sky met the sea.

A colossal object emerged atop the wave crest—a deep-sea drilling platform, its exterior still faintly showing the red-painted words “Sumeru Throne.” This giant structure had been rolling beneath the water and only resurfaced near the shore, carried by the tide. It was covered in countless grayish-blue spines, and its steel skeleton was packed with mermaids—hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands! Shielded by the floating platform, they had survived the tsunami’s impact, like passengers aboard a great ship sailing towards the human world. Now, their journey’s end was in sight.

The mermaids released their long tails, dropping into the sea like thousands of snakes leaving their nest. The cries of infants filled the air—it was the devilish chorus of grinding teeth in excitement.

The CIWS stopped firing, and the rapid-fire anti-aircraft guns ceased as well. Seawater splashed onto the red-hot barrels, causing a loud “hiss.” These weapons had exceeded their usage limits; any further use would lead to barrel failure. But the St. Louis had not given up—the gas turbines roared at maximum power, the ship spewing white smoke as it made a desperate charge towards the colossal wave. All weapons fired—Standard missiles, decoy rockets, MK50 torpedoes, and anti-ship Harpoon missiles… none of these weapons were designed for killing mermaids, but a death-defying attack meant throwing even stones at the enemy if that was all you had.

The bow of the St. Louis struck the crest of the wave as if crashing into an enormous wall that reached the heavens. The wave overturned the ship, and the mermaids swam swiftly past on both sides.

“It seems we can’t solve this without paying a greater cost. Press ‘3’,” Su Enxi smiled at Kimura.

“Yes, Miss Enxi,” Kimura replied, pressing ‘3’ with a resolute hand.

He could no longer imagine what else could possibly be done to fend off the mermaids. The largest amphibious assault in human history was probably the Normandy Invasion during World War II—a pivotal battle involving millions of troops. Yet, distributed across each beach, only ten to twenty thousand soldiers fought. Twenty-five thousand Allied troops, charging into heavy German artillery and machine-gun fire at Gold Beach, suffered only 400 casualties. Now they faced thousands of mermaids—these physically powerful creatures, each capable of battling sharks, could easily take on ten humans. Atami was an unfortified tourist city, with fewer than 100 police pistols in total—not to mention machine guns or artillery. Hope seemed lost; even ten more Perry-class frigates wouldn’t be able to stop this landing.

But Su Enxi stood elegantly at the cliff’s edge, smiling gracefully at Kimura… and Kimura found himself truly believing in her.

At the Yokosuka Naval Base, everyone in the duty room gathered by the window. Outside, in the military port, the fleet was waking up.

From the Ticonderoga-class missile cruiser to the Arleigh Burke-class destroyer, and even the flagship of the Seventh Fleet, the USS Blue Ridge—every ship awoke from its dormant state. The bridge lights came on, and systems ran self-checks—from gas turbines to weaponry. The weapon locks disengaged automatically, and the U.S. Seventh Fleet entered combat-ready status, despite not receiving any orders. The fleet belched white smoke that shrouded the port, and the piercing sound of whistles echoed one after another.

The Seventh Fleet set sail, forming ranks just outside the harbor, adjusting their formation to face southeast. Hundreds of Tomahawk missiles slid into the launch rails.

“Tomahawk missile group unlocked, entering launch countdown,” the fire control system announced in a synthesized female voice.

“Admiral, there’s nothing we can do. We’ve lost control of the Seventh Fleet, and we are about to attack Atami… with all of our Tomahawk missiles,” the lieutenant colonel stepped away from the console and stood behind the admiral.

Series Navigation

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