Chronicles of Two Powers

Chapter 1 - New World

After holding a community vote, the results are 81% in favour of fully committing to a complete rewrite of *Chronicles of Two Powers*. As such, we will begin unpublishing all chapters that have not been rewritten to maintain consistency in tone, quality, and plot progression.

The rewritten chapters (currently up to Chapter 7.2) will remain available and continue to be revised and expanded as needed. We'll also transition from the decimal-style formatting (e.g., 7.1, 7.2) to a straightforward numerical chapter format (Chapter 1, Chapter 2, etc.), streamlining the structure into a coherent narrative with 17+ chapters.

Please feel free to join my server "Smoke's Prison" for discussions and suggestions.

Link: https://discord.gg/YfMCwZcTs7

• • • • •

The sun cast golden light across the broad deck of his flagship. Around him, the cries of wounded sailors rose and faded on the sea breeze. Amid the chaos, his officers barked over each other, their faces tight with urgency as they scrambled to regain control of the unraveling fleet.

Beside him stood his first mate, eyes wide, shoulders tense, a reflection of the fear gripping the entire crew. Once hailed as the Pride, a symbol of naval might, the ship now listed with misery, a shadow of its former glory.

It drifted like a toy in the vast ocean, dwarfed by the strength of the Aetesian fleet. Each thunderous blast marked the loss of another ship, a harsh reminder of the relentless enemy fire. Through the admiral's spyglass, the attacking vessel was barely a dot on the horizon, yet its shots landed with terrifying precision. There was no hope of striking back.

"Keeping their distance, yet winning..." He muttered.

"It's unimaginable!" The admiral's thoughts reeled at the absurdity of their situation. There was no victory to be claimed in this mad battle. And yet, the idea of retreat loomed like a shadow, cowardly, and disgraceful. A stain not only on his honour but on the legacy of his family. Once hailed for outmanoeuvring a powerful Alveronian fleet, the great admiral now found himself cornered, sweat trickling down his furrowed brow.

Amid the turmoil, an urgent command was issued, a summons to the prince, to inform him that the battle's end had become nothing short of a massacre.

The officer bearing this grim duty approached the admiral, burdened but unwavering. Catching the familiar flush on the admiral's cheek, he accepted the order without protest.

"Yes, sir!"

As the officer dashed off to fulfil the sorrowful task, a few remained behind on the deck, witnessing the unfolding tragedy. The lone grey cruiser, an enormous, merciless beast, continued its relentless bombardment, systematically reducing once-invincible ironclads to twisted wrecks.

The admiral turned his eyes to the flag atop the bridge, their symbol of naval pride: a rising red sun, flapping defiantly in the wind.

"Who are these attackers?!" His final cry rang out, not a command but a desperate plea for understanding, as three enormous projectiles screamed toward them, trailing smoke.

Resigned to his fate, the admiral stood tall amidst the chaos and war cries of his officers. Eyes closed, he braced for the inevitable. The missiles struck, engulfing the once-proud flagship.

• • • • •

Tokyo, Japan – November 10, 2025

As people plodded home, seeking refuge from an incessant day beneath the cover of their umbrellas, the distant moans of traffic echoed through rain-lashed streets. Overhead, dense clouds obscured the sky, casting a somber tone upon the city. The relentless drumming of raindrops momentarily faded as a small crowd gathered outside a nearby electronics shop, drawn in by the flickering glow of TV screens broadcasting grim news: