“…Everything? It has all completely collapsed?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. Following the massive slave rebellion that seized the entirety of the Florida colony, our remaining colonies are now directly threatened. We must make a decisive decision as quickly as possible…”
“Th… That is precisely why I explicitly told you we had to capture Queen Elizabeth back then! If we had only done that, this infernal war would have been over by now!”
“…”
“…”
Swallowing a heavy sigh, the Duke of Lerma forced a gentle, placating smile onto his face as he addressed the King.
“…It is truly a tragic turn of events, Your Majesty. Those utterly incompetent fools have ruined your grand, visionary design.”
It was a good thing the King was an idiot. It made him incredibly easy to manipulate.
However, it became highly problematic when he was this much of an idiot. His sheer incompetence was causing the entire nation to violently stumble.
The massive project to relocate the capital to Valladolid had finally been completed, meaning there was no longer any need to deliberately divert the King’s attention away from the New World.
In fact, given the current political climate—where the Duke had aggressively pushed for the mass expulsion of the Moriscos (Muslims who had converted to Catholicism, or those who secretly maintained their Islamic faith under Catholic rule) to solidify his own political standing—he desperately needed to force the King’s gaze toward the New World.
He needed a spectacular military triumph to successfully cover up the devastating economic depression currently ravaging the nation in the wake of the Morisco expulsion.
However…
“If only we had captured the Queen back then. If only…”
Just look at him. Still pathetically whining and grumbling about an event that occurred years ago. Shockingly, this utterly undignified, pathetic excuse for a human being was Philip III, the King of Spain.
He possessed absolutely zero courage or leadership fit for a monarch.
Regardless.
“…We must immediately retake Florida, must we not? The blade is practically at our throats, isn’t it?!”
Well, it seemed even a broken clock was right twice a day. As the King, he had at least managed to grasp the fundamental crux of the current crisis. That was a relief.
“You are absolutely correct, Your Majesty. If Florida remains in the hands of those rebels and heretics, our vital fleets crossing the Atlantic will face increasingly frequent and devastating threats.”
“Exactly…! That is where our absolute lifeline lies! We cannot simply sit back and watch this catastrophe unfold…!”
Trembling violently, Philip III barked his orders to the Duke of Lerma.
“R-Right. Did you not mention that the entire Irish campaign has been mostly stabilized? If that is true, then if we pull our troops from there and send them across the Atlantic…!”
“Yes, Your Majesty. That would certainly resolve the issue.”
“Then do it immediately!”
Thud!
“I-I don’t care what happens to the other territories, but we absolutely cannot lose the Americas! That is the land of gold bequeathed to us by our glorious ancestors! It is the land of the monarch!”
For the first time in a very long while… no, perhaps for the very first time in his entire reign, Philip III issued a firm, uncompromising command.
“Give Juan de Mendoza y Luna every single reinforcement he requested! Give him absolutely anything he desires! Do not let that English witch and that savage Native American chieftain set a single foot upon my land!”
And just like that, Juan del Águila—who had been idly stationed in Ireland, casually observing the petty squabbles of the local nobility—was immediately dispatched across the Atlantic. He promptly assumed command of the massive forces mobilized by Juan de Mendoza, the Viceroy of New Spain.
And so…
“…Dear God.”
“What is the matter… uh… uhh…?”
6,600 men.
A colossal army explicitly assembled to completely reconquer San Agustín, brutally sweep through the entirety of Florida, and ultimately annihilate Virginia itself, totaling exactly 6,600 soldiers.
That was roughly ten times the size of the Virginian Agricultural Knights. It was four times larger than the combined total of the defending garrison and the civilian population currently trapped within San Agustín.
Divided among a massive armada of over twenty heavily armed warships, they sailed straight into the waters off the coast of Florida.
The Virginian sailors led by Vicente, accompanied by a handful of allied English ships, relentlessly pursued and harassed them in the surrounding waters.
However, they were hopelessly outmatched by sheer numbers.
Managing to sink a single supply ship carrying gunpowder and rations was the absolute limit of what they could achieve.
And so, a terrifying military force—numbering four times larger than the army Florida had desperately scraped together—made landfall upon Isla Anastasia (an island located directly east of San Agustín).
A vastly larger, overwhelmingly stronger, and infinitely better-trained army.
***
“…”
“…”
“Good Lord… Even if the European war in Ireland is winding down… how could they possibly mobilize such a massive force…?!”
Someone’s desperate, shrieking exclamation did absolutely nothing to alleviate the crushing despair suffocating the room.
The Spanish authorities had officially concluded that brutally suppressing the Florida rebellion was significantly more critical to the survival of their empire than actively fighting their numerous enemies in Europe.
The exclamation served absolutely no function other than violently reminding everyone of that hopelessly depressing reality.
Having falsely assumed that a garrison of 1,500 men would be more than enough to defend the city, every single person in the room fell into a stunned, horrified silence.
The numerical disparity was so catastrophically massive that they couldn’t even dare to attempt disrupting the Spanish landing. In fact, if they foolishly marched out of the fortress to initiate a battle, they risked being instantly and utterly annihilated by the sheer volume of troops already disembarking.
“The enemy forces have successfully made landfall on Isla Anastasia. They are currently slowly seizing control of the surrounding waters and have begun bombarding the fortress with their naval cannons—”
BOOM! KABOOM!
The report was entirely unnecessary.
The deafening roar of the distant explosions and the violent tremors shaking the ground were more than enough to instill absolute terror into the hearts of the council members gathered in the room.
The sight of them fearfully muttering among themselves in sheer shock was so overwhelmingly bleak it was difficult to endure. Unable to bear the miserable spectacle any longer, Father Alonso Garcia was just about to stand up and leave when he overheard someone’s voice.
“W-What about ‘Him’? What is He planning to do?”
“…”
“…”
“…”
‘Him.’
He didn’t possess a proper name or an official title, yet everyone instantly knew exactly who they were talking about.
The man who had arrived alongside the Virginian Knights, quietly yet undeniably radiating an absolute, commanding presence while remaining near San Agustín.
At least a third of the people in this room genuinely, fervently believed he was an Angel.
And Alonso…
“The enemy forces currently stationed outside those walls outnumber us several times over.”
…belonged to the remaining group that made up less than two-thirds.
Half-infuriated by the man’s utterly helpless, delusional reliance on a single individual, Alonso spoke sharply.
“Expecting a single person’s assistance to miraculously turn the tide of this war is a foolish, idiotic delusion.”
“He is not just a single person!”
“That’s right! He is… He is…!”
“I do not care what you believe him to be. I am merely stating the blindingly obvious reality of our situation.”
In truth.
In truth, it wasn’t as if Alonso hadn’t expected something from him in the face of this desperate, seemingly unwinnable battle.
The very man who had single-handedly orchestrated the liberation of countless slaves. The ‘Emperor’ of Virginia.
It would honestly be stranger not to harbor some sliver of hope that such a man could produce a miracle.
However…
“Therefore, you must all place your absolute faith in yourselves.”
Observing ‘Him’ from a distance… Alonso had concluded that he was, ultimately, just an ordinary human being.
While some people trembled with religious ecstasy or wept tears of profound joy upon supposedly hearing his voice speak to them in countless different languages—as if they had been touched by the Holy Spirit—Alonso was not so easily swayed by such ‘miracles.’
Because ultimately, exactly as ‘He’ had explicitly stated, the outcome of this war rested entirely in the hands of the people gathered here, not his.
The ones who had physically shattered the chains of the slaves and liberated them as freemen were the slaves themselves, driven by their own burning courage, not some distant Angel. He may have been a vital supporter, but he was not their divine savior.
“B-B-But His Nameless Lordship is…!”
Yet, there were people here acting as though he would magically wave his hand and solve every single one of their problems. Alonso was far more disgusted by these blindly fanatical followers than he was by ‘Him.’
It wasn’t as if mindlessly praying to him would miraculously vaporize the Spanish army…
Ultimately, as the council members descended into a chaotic, pointless argument, Alonso quietly slipped out of the room and climbed up to the fortress ramparts.
And there he saw it. While their defensive forces sat paralyzed, completely unable to mount a counterattack, the Spanish forces were already crossing the Matanzas River under the devastating covering fire of their naval cannons.
A few frantic soldiers struggled to aim their cannons and fired back, but their shots landed harmlessly in the water, hitting absolutely nothing.
“Father Alonso? Why are you up here?! Please, get back inside! Hurry!”
“…”
Despite the urgent, panicked shouting of a nearby soldier, Alonso’s feet refused to move.
Thousands of Spanish soldiers had already swarmed the beaches, looking exactly like a massive colony of ants swarming a cube of sugar.
They were methodically forming their ranks and marching forward, carrying heavy siege ladders.
That terrifyingly disciplined, organized advance stood in horrifying contrast to the allied defenders, who were currently screaming and scattering in sheer panic at every thunderous boom of the enemy cannons.
***
“…I don’t like this.”
Clicking his tongue in sheer irritation, Captain Francisco of the Spanish Royal Army glared at the fortress of San Marcos.
The moment the naval bombardment ceased, the high command immediately issued the order to charge. Carefully dodging the chaotic, wildly inaccurate hail of gunfire pouring from the walls, they rapidly closed the distance to the fortress.
He had firmly believed that filling the moat, raising the siege ladders, and feeding a few lead bullets to those pathetic, untrained rebels frantically scurrying between the battlements would be an incredibly simple task.
“F-F-Fire!”
BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG!
However… the reality was completely different from what they had anticipated.
Some sort of invisible, transparent wall was blocking the gaps between the battlements. Whenever the Spanish soldiers spotted an enemy poking their head out and fired, their bullets simply bounced off, and it was invariably the Spanish soldiers who ended up being shot in return.
BANG-BANG-BANG!
“Argh! I-I’m hit!”
“Move the wounded to the rear!”
Furthermore, the sheer speed at which the enemy reloaded and fired their muskets was so incredibly fast that even seasoned veterans struggled to match their pace.
They were undeniably a disorganized, untrained rabble… They were supposedly nothing more than pathetic slaves…
Yet they were inexplicably, terrifyingly strong.
While they had absolutely no idea that this bizarre resilience was entirely due to the Lexan glass shields and the revolutionary flintlock muskets, every single Spanish soldier could feel that something was fundamentally wrong. Despite the Spanish possessing overwhelming superiority in both raw numbers and combat experience, the enemy was actually managing to hold their ground.
It made absolutely no sense.
They shouldn’t even be capable of holding their ground. When the hell had these slaves ever received proper military training?!
The very fact that they were successfully holding off seasoned veterans who had survived the brutal meat grinders of Ireland and the Low Countries was both deeply infuriating and utterly incomprehensible.
“Francisco! Pull your men back immediately! Another company is advancing to take your place!”
“…Understood.”
It seemed the high command was also keenly aware of the bizarre anomaly.
Having confidently launched a frontal assault only to suffer unexpectedly heavy casualties, they were currently pulling their forces back to re-evaluate and create distance from the enemy. It seemed this was going to devolve into a grueling, sluggish battle of attrition, with both sides merely exchanging heavy bombardment and forcing casualties upon one another for days.
Realizing this grim reality, the other Captains clicked their tongues, spitting on the ground and cursing violently. For the time being, they were slowly retreating under the covering fire of their naval cannons.
…It was fine.
Soon, the massive siege cannons would finally be unloaded onto the beaches.
Once the heavy artillery currently undergoing final inspections on Isla Anastasia arrived, they would be able to physically obliterate those walls with infinitely more devastating firepower than the scattered, inaccurate naval bombardment they were currently relying on.
Even with their bizarre, inexplicable weaponry, the rebels wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing against that.
Once the siege cannons were in place, this battle would become incredibly easy.
If only they could get those cannons…
Tap-tap.
“E-E-Excuse me, sir…!”
“What is it, Lieutenant?”
Deeply annoyed at having his train of thought violently interrupted, Francisco snapped his head around. Lieutenant Juan was pointing into the distance with a violently trembling finger.
“Something… something is approaching…!”
“What the hell could possibly be approach—”
Muttering irritably, Francisco turned his head to look.
“…”
“…”
For a moment, just a brief moment, he was completely at a loss for words.
Everything about this battlefield was profoundly bizarre.
Those pathetic slaves were somehow scoring decent kills despite trembling in absolute terror.
Whenever they aimed at the enemy and fired, they heard a bizarre ricochet sound, and the enemy miraculously survived completely unscathed.
But above all else.
“…Uh… U-Uhh?”
Francisco felt as though he was currently witnessing the absolute most bizarre, impossible thing of all.
A small squad of cavalrymen was charging wildly toward their retreating lines, firing their muskets as they rode. Well, that much was entirely possible. It seemed an enemy reserve unit had been waiting in ambush somewhere outside the fortress. Given that they numbered a mere thirty men, they were entirely insignificant.
However, moving right amidst those cavalrymen…
RUMBLE… RUMBLE… RUMBLE…
‘Something’ was approaching, emitting a deafening, terrifying roar.
RUMBLE… RUMBLE… RUMBLE…!
That ‘something’ completely paralyzed the soldiers, forcibly rooting their feet to the ground. It forced every single man to drop their jaw in sheer awe and quietly mutter desperate prayers to the Lord.
“W-W-What are you all doing?! Fire your damn muskets!”
BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG!
As someone finally snapped out of their stupor and screamed the order, the terrified musketeers frantically began reloading and firing wildly in every direction. While a few of the cavalrymen were successfully shot from their saddles, that ‘something’ charging right down the center remained completely unfazed.
It was exactly the same as before.
Just like when they were firing at the fortress walls, the bullets simply bounced harmlessly off its surface. Realizing this horrifying fact, the terrified musketeers began slowly backing away.
RUMBLE… RUMBLE… RUMBLE…!
The deafening roar grew increasingly louder. And the shape of that previously blurry ‘something’ gradually became terrifyingly clear.
“Uh… U-Uhh? U-Uhhh…?”
It was…
It could only truly be described as ‘something.’ Because there simply did not exist a word in the human language capable of adequately describing it yet.
It was…
It looked exactly like a grotesque, horrifying monster clumsily slapped together by a demon desperately trying to mock the Lord’s creations.
It possessed a colossal, bright yellow chassis. Vicious, jagged steel spikes and razor-sharp blades protruded violently from its front, looking exactly like the bared fangs of a mechanical beast.
From the center of that chassis, a massive, elongated mechanical neck stretched high into the air, supporting a gigantic, terrifying head boasting a cavernous, gaping maw.
The massive wheels attached beneath it spun with terrifying, relentless fury. Whether it was a steep incline or a jagged boulder, the machine slithered over it with the horrifying grace of a massive mechanical serpent as it rapidly closed the distance.
A massive wave of completely terrified soldiers frantically backed away, hurling rocks and firing their muskets in sheer, blind panic. A few incredibly brave—or perhaps incredibly foolish—men actually attempted to charge the beast, wildly swinging their steel swords.
CRUNCH!
However.
“S-Sanchez is dead! He’s dead!”
“W-What the hell?! How is something that massive moving so fast?!”
That impossibly heavy monstrosity.
“W-W-What are you doing, Capitán?! Please, you must run!”
It was moving so quickly.
“Capitán? Capitán!”
Far too.
“Francisco! What the fuck are you doing?! Run!”
Quickly.
…
…
…
Francisco merely blinked his eyes, and the monster was suddenly looming directly over him.
And sitting securely inside that terrifying monster… was a human being. He locked eyes with the man for a brief, terrifying moment.
For exactly one second.
RUMBLE-RUMBLE-RUMBLE-CRASH!
That was his absolute final memory on this earth.
CRUNCH!
Countless men began screaming in sheer, mind-breaking terror about the monster spewing pitch-black smoke as they broke formation and fled for their lives.
The formations of hundreds of men completely shattered, and thousands more violently wavered in panic.
“P-P-Pursue them! Hurry!”
However, ‘that thing’ was far, far too fast for the foot soldiers to successfully chase down.
Before the Spanish soldiers could even begin to comprehend exactly what they had just witnessed, the monstrosity had already vanished completely from their line of sight.
They couldn’t even dare to dream of launching another assault on the fortress.
***
“Our actual casualties are… relatively light. However, ‘that thing’ severely shattered our formations as it tore through us. If we are not incredibly careful, this could escalate into a massive catastrophe.”
“You are worrying far too much. If the enemy possessed dozens or hundreds of cavalrymen capable of actively exploiting the breach, it would be a different story. But even if our formations are temporarily broken, the enemy completely lacks the means to launch a meaningful counterattack…”
“Are the two of you mathematicians?”
“Pardon, Your Excellency?”
“If you exclusively focus on the things that are easily quantifiable simply because it is convenient, you will inevitably overlook the most critical factor of all.”
Juan del Águila, the Supreme Commander of the Spanish expeditionary force, spoke coldly to his reporting lieutenants.
“Think about it carefully. Is that truly ‘all’ we lost?”
“…”
“…”
“…”
“I am asking you if those few dozen dead and wounded, the temporarily broken formations, and the slight delay in our reorganization are truly the absolute extent of the damage our army suffered today. I am asking if that is truly ‘all’!”
“…”
“…”
“…”
Every single lieutenant clamped their mouth shut at the commander’s furious reprimand. Unable to contain the blinding rage boiling within his old, battle-hardened bones, Juan del Águila huffed heavily. Tearing open the flap of his command tent, he glared intensely at the eyes of the soldiers frantically reorganizing nearby.
Their eyes should have been burning with absolute, unshakable certainty in their impending victory. Because that very certainty was the exact catalyst that forged true victory. It was a brutal lesson he had learned through decades of grueling warfare.
Yet, what was currently swirling within their eyes was not certainty, confidence, or fighting spirit.
It was fear. And it was the absolute most terrifying kind of fear…
“What on earth was ‘that thing’…”
The paralyzing terror of the unknown.
Something they couldn’t even begin to comprehend had just attempted to slaughter them. A colossal monster forged entirely of steel, sprinting across the battlefield while emitting a horrifying roar—and that monster was fighting for the enemy.
Some soldiers were frantically spreading rumors that the savage slaves had performed a vile, demonic ritual to summon an actual demon from hell.
Others were eagerly regurgitating various Native American legends and folktales, wildly exaggerating the terrifying capabilities of the mechanical beast.
That sheer, undeniable fact alone was violently shattering the morale of the entire Spanish army.
Human casualties and damaged equipment could be easily counted and replaced. But pure, unadulterated terror could not be quantified.
And that terror was currently spreading through the army like a highly lethal, highly contagious plague. The soldiers were outright refusing to stand at the vanguard, desperately huddling together in small groups to pray, or hopelessly relying on various absurd superstitions to protect themselves.
…There was only one possible way to completely reverse this catastrophic situation.
“How much longer until the ‘San Pedro’ and the ‘San Lorenzo’ are fully operational?”
An absolutely overwhelming, undeniably crushing victory.
Just the mere mention of those two names by Juan del Águila instantly banished a sliver of the paralyzing fear from his lieutenants’ eyes.
“…They should be fully prepared and operational within four to five days, Your Excellency.”
“Accelerate the schedule. To the absolute maximum.”
For a brief, terrifying moment, they had actually forgotten.
They had forgotten the absolute, undeniable truth that they were destined to win this war.