Brim wet the palm of his hands with his flammable sweat. He left his middle finger and thumb dry, rubbing them together in a quick motion. From the roughness, a spark flashed, lighting the oil ablaze. He looked around, checking that everyone else had done the same.

‘Enemy ships six-hundred metres ahead of us! Trajectory forty-five degrees’ he roared, making sure he was heard in the chaos. ‘Ready?! Aim! Fire!’

The artillery group flung a flurry of fireballs over the battlefield. They arced through the air, mixing to create larger projectiles before crashing into their desired location. Upon impact, Brim turned to his designated messenger.

‘Rafael, Damage report,’ he ordered.

The messenger whistled, calling a tinoo to arrive. The animal cooed back. The man nodded in response. ‘Overhit. Minimal damage.’

‘Miss or dodge?’ Brim snapped back.

‘Dodge!’

Tsk. They dodged both when we aimed further back and closer towards us. Their ships are too fast for us, Brim bit his tongue at the conundrum. He looked up, inspected the tinoo formation, the ally and enemy fire, and watched the ever-darkening clouds. Time wasn’t on his side.

‘Our oil reserves?’ he asked, an idea formulating in his head.

‘Ninety per cent. Water at eighty and rising.’

‘Understood. Report to the High Command we’re switching to salvo,’ Brim then turned to his allies. ‘Switch to salvo formation! We’ll use everything we have now!’

The fire elementals nodded and rotated into four lines. The messenger whistled. His Tinoo soared up and towards another ship.

Brim raised his arm, ‘First row, same trajectory, fire!’

A stream of fire flew through the sky again. However, Brim didn’t let up and raised his arm once more.

‘First row, reload. Second, forty degrees, fire!’

Another barrage.

‘Third row, fifty, fire!’

Another.

‘Fourth, fifty-five!’

More.

‘First again!’

The attack didn’t stop.

‘Second! Third! Fourth! First!’

The cycle continued with no room to rest. No room to let the enemy recover. No chance to dodge. They will hit and they did. However, they couldn’t enjoy their momentary success for long as the patters of rain began to become a downpour.

Already? Brim cursed inside. ‘Stop salvo and retreat below. We’ll –’

Just then Rafael’s tinoo returned as Brim’s men made their way down. It squawked mid-flight as the messenger’s eyes widened. He shot back at Brim who didn’t even ask what he heard.

‘The enemy is sending aquatic bestials, sir! At least a couple thousand of them!’

‘Where are they attacking?’

The tinoo squawked some more. ‘We don’t know yet. Our aquatic bestials haven’t gotten back to us.’

‘Let’s stay put for now until the rain stops and wait for further information then.’ Brim furled his brows. He felt the same sinking feeling like during the battle of The Path. ‘What in Eurasia is going down there?’