Just A Reincarnation Story (Summoning Japan Edition)

Chapter 105: Taking Refuge in Audacity

The empty open ocean stretched endlessly.

At this particular latitude, the seasons shifted differently when compared to the regions further north. To the north, spring would soon thaw frozen ground and coax buds from skeletal trees. But near the imaginary belt around the planet known as the "Equator," the two seasons occurring here were measured more with rainfall, with parched months of unbroken sun followed by sodden months of heavy, rain-laden skies. Today was around the time when the wet season transitioned into dry.

Below the waves, the light faded into an infinite dark blue abyss, where a Rahab-class cruiser submarine from the Annonrial Empire's Fleet of Particular Justice prowled like a specter of steel through the depths where sunlight surrendered to gloom. Its hull—with the faint glow of its pulsing magical thrusters pushing it—sliced silently through the void. Its submerged displacement of around 2.600 tons left no wake. To the world above, it did not exist. To the Annonrial Empire, it was their scalpel in the dark, enforcer of the Absolute Kill Zone.

Submarines were blasphemy in this world where naval warfare at its finest still clung to the romance of towering battleships and honor-bound duels upon the waves. It was almost comical—those proud fleets stalking the horizons while being blind to the killers lurking beneath. A Rahab could loiter for weeks in the abyss, silent, tracking a target's noise, waiting for the order to turn lungs into foam and steel into shrapnel with a submerged torpedo strike. No warning. No honor. No glory.

But in times of no war (yet), the Empire's application of underwater warfare was simple: hunt animals and sink floating artificial constructs that strayed near their waters, or occasionally hunt them when feasible. Leave no wreckage, and capture all survivors to feed their bustling sentient being experimentation divisions. After all, the Annonrial Empire recognized only one race as truly sapient—the winged people. The rest? Animals, some clever enough to mimic speech or operate ships, but animals all the same. So when a Rahab dragged a shattered hull into the depths, its crew drowning in the dark, the Empire saw no crime—just pest control. And when the screams of the "non-people" echoed through the research halls of the experimentation divisions? Well. That was just the sound of progress. As the heroes of their story, it was their privilege to abuse all others for their benefit. Humanity!? Fuck yeah!

"Hah..."

After a sigh, the captain's lips twitched in a humorless smirk as his own internal monologue echoed in his skull.

He leaned back in the command chair and scanned the dimly lit control room. The sonar detected nothing but the distant bioluminescent squid endemic to these waters (probably). Seven weeks patrolling their assigned sector of the Absolute Kill Zone, and all they'd torpedoed were a few remote-controlled targets on their way here—crude things, not sentient at all. Helps to maintain skill, but it is hardly worth the cost of the torpedoes.

"...Anything?" he lazily drawled, though he already knew the answer. Sometimes he wanted to believe the ideals espoused by those inhabiting the northern hemisphere that "human curiosity" allows them to surpass even gods themselves, and with the Southern World being one of the most mysterious lands to the known world, there would be plenty of explorers coming here. Alas, it seemed that they were idiots who were deceiving themselves with delusions of grandeur, after all.

"Negative, sir."

The sonar operator shot back with as much enthusiasm.

They were at the end of their patrol. Six more hours and the chronometer would tick over to 20:00. Then, finally, they'd surface under the cover of night, cycle the air tanks, and chart a course home. Drumming his fingers on the armrest, the captain exhaled, already mentally shifting into relaxation mode.