The advance did not stop.
Enemy structures distorted again as they moved beyond the frost zone.Readings collapsed once more.
—We lost lock —Irina said.
Mikhail did not respond.
The advantage they had gained vanished in seconds.
The batteries kept firing, but the impacts once again passed through without effect or dissipated before reaching any real surface.
—The windows are closing —she added—. They last less each time.
The Tiger still roared over the sea, but it no longer forced the same stability.
The enemy had learned.
—Adjust again —Mikhail ordered.
—There's no stable pattern.
Silence.
—Then fire anyway.
The next volley went out without full precision.
Some impacts connected.
Most did not.
The response came immediately.
Not from one point.
From all of them.
An entire section of the Sevianko line disappeared.
No explosion.No fire.Just absence.
—We lost contact! —an operator shouted—. There are no remains!
The channel filled with static.
—They're shifting phase —Irina said—. They don't remain on the same plane.
—Then don't give them time.
—We can't lock them long enough.
—We don't need to lock them. Just hit them.
The batteries continued.
For a moment, several enemy structures became visible.
—Now.
Direct hits.
Real deformation.
But no collapse.
The advance continued.
The rupture came from below.
The sea opened.
Not in waves.
In mass.
Black tentacles emerged between the ships.
Dozens.
Then hundreds.
—Internal contact! —the radio shouted—. They're inside the formation!
The Claimoor weren't entering.
They were already there.
The Polyarnaya Zvezda was the first to fall.
A tentacle pierced the hull.
Then another.
The turrets fired at point-blank range.
No penetration.
—Boarding confirmed!
Gunfire and screams cut off instantly.
—Hold formation —Mikhail ordered.
The Zimniy Tuman advanced.
Engines roared.
The battleship drove straight toward the enemy core, forcing a path through distortions and creatures.
Around it, what remained of the fleet tried to close ranks.
—We have a window —Irina said—. Brief.
Mikhail did not respond.
He already knew it wouldn't last.
The sky broke.
Not an explosion.
Fractures.
Openings.
Three.
Then more.
—No… —Irina whispered.
From each one, new structures emerged.
Not a hundred.
More than two hundred.
The horizon disappeared.
The Sevianko formation ceased to exist.
—We can't hold this… —Irina said.
Blood ran from her nose.
—We can't win.
Mikhail looked at her.
—I know.
Silence.
—But we do not retreat.
The massacre began.
Not chaotic.
Precise.
The Severnaya Korona lost its bridge in a single strike.The Ledokol fell covering a retreat that no longer existed.
The Claimoor moved between ships as if the battlefield belonged to them.
They did not attack at random.
They knew where to strike.
Every critical point.Every weakness.
The Zimniy Tuman held.
Mikhail did not move from the front.
The Siberian Tiger tore apart every creature that managed to board. His magic froze the environment, slowing the enemy advance.
For seconds.
Nothing more.
The pressure increased.
The mark on his arm burned inward.
His hands trembled.
His teeth bled.
He did not stop.
Then the impact came.
Not a Claimoor.
Something greater.
A tentacle pierced the hull.
Then another.
And another.
Eight in total.
The structure warped.
The runes flared.
And went out.
—Abandon ship —Mikhail ordered—. All of you.
—Sir…!
—Now.
No one argued.
The hatches opened.
The survivors jumped into the freezing water.
Irina was the last to remain.
She grabbed his arm.
—I'm not leaving you.
Mikhail looked at her.
No rank.
No distance.
—Yes, you are.
He placed a hand on her face.
—You have to tell them.
Irina shook her head.
He let go.
—Go.
He did not shout.
He didn't need to.
Irina jumped.
The cold struck like a blade.
She swam.
She did not look back.
The Zimniy Tuman groaned.
The tentacles tightened.
The battleship split.
The explosion lit the ice.
Mikhail Sevianko did not scream.
Did not hesitate.
Did not retreat.
He sank with his ship.
The mark on his arm went dark.
The battle continued.
But the Sevianko fleet did not.
The survivors reached the shore.
Thirty-two.
Irina counted the faces.
The bodies.
The wounds.
She stopped counting.
—They wiped us out… —someone said.
Irina looked at the sea.
The Kartnod ships.
They were reorganizing.
She clenched her fists.
Mikhail's blood was still on her hands.
—This isn't over.
The others looked at her.
—We move as soon as we can —she said—. Ireland.
—Why?
Irina lifted her gaze.
Her eyes flickered with unstable blue light.
She looked back toward the sea and saw the ships sinking, one after another, as Mikhail's magic raised a final barrier—holding the enemy back just long enough for the survivors to escape.
The wind struck the coast.
In the distance, the Kartnod fleet vanished into the fog.
The war was not over.