Reich Marshal of the Belkan Reich

"Fire!" Accompanying the shout from Torres, who is now viewing the enemy battleship with a stern gaze, the 381 mm cannons send out another salvo with a sea-quaking bang. Clenching his binoculars, Torres can see the shells either landing near the enemy battleship Roma, or bouncing and shattering due to the acute angle that the shells landed. "Bastard is inching closer!" Torres muttered with an annoyed expression. "Have the Filip and Luis deploy a smoke screen to our starboard!"

"Yes, sir!"

In current-day naval warfare, one of the many uses of a smoke screen is to disrupt the optical aiming device and rangefinder on enemy vessels. Yet, it's also a double-edged sword for it can also block the view of your allies. Fortunately for the Spanish, their vessels are fitted with a radar system, allowing them to range find by radar and to engage even with obstructed vision. Torres is banking on that fact to cause some meaningful damage while he still can.

"The guns are ready, sir!" 

"Fire!" Once again, the sea quakes according to Torres' order. Only this time, due to the smoke screen, Torres can hardly see the shells impacting. "Can the cruisers confirm the effect?"

Being asked, the radio operator then transmits the inquiry post-haste and after a dozen seconds, the answer comes. "Sir, three shells hit the Roma, light damage."

"Continue engaging the Roma. Secondaries keep pumping out HE on everything else." Torres said amidst the continuous booming of cannons firing.

The exchanging of shells then goes on to last for fifteen minutes with both sides scoring less than meaningful damage to the other's capital ship. Gone are the pristine Claudus camouflage on both battleships, now, ash and soot are painted over them alongside a number of holes and dents. Suddenly, numerous small explosions rock one of the Spanish destroyers.

"The Cavalier has been hit! God, she's burning up!" One of the sailors manning the observation post just outside the bridge exclaimed. Torres and a few officers run out to the railings, only to see the Cavalier falling behind the formation, its entire deck going up in flame with sailors on fire jumping off the ship.

"Goddamn, Sardegnians!" Torres, for the first time in this engagement, lost his cool. The sudden spike of rage inside him is quickly forced down by him, however. A leader shouldn't lose his composure when his men needed him the most. Granted, his men won't blame him for losing control, no one deserves a death like the Cavalier.

"Blood repays blood, the Cavalier shall be avenged, gentlemen. Return to your posts." Torres said, earning vehement nods from his men. They spare one last glance at the burning Cavalier before returning to duty.

Once inside the bridge, a report is brought to Torres' attention.

"Admiral, the enemy is speeding to cut ahead of us! Wait... They're encircling us from the rear also! Both formations consist of a Trento and two destroyers!"

"Damn it! Have the remaining destroyers cover our rear in a smoke screen, and disrupt their torpedo aiming! All other vessels, carve a path forward. Engage at will!" Torres gave a new order to the entire fleet before saying. "Have the destroyers launched their remaining torpedoes against the group coming up our rear!"

"Load HE on the next salvo! After that, train the gun on the enemy Trento cutting our front! If they're closing in on us, let them be purified by fire!" Torres ordered right at the moment Roma's salvo arrived. Of the nine shells, seven missed with two scoring hits. Feeling an explosion occurred near the aft, Torres turns to his XO. "Status report!"

"Sir! One of the shells penetrated and exploded in the aft, near the magazine! There's a fire near the C turret! The other over penetrated above the waterline, no flooding!" The XO reported with a hand holding the ship's telephone.

"Damage control to the aft! Prioritizing putting out the fire!" The echo of the last AP salvo accompanied Torres' order. "The order still stands, I want that Trento blows out of the water!"

"On it, Admiral!" The XO reported while the front turrets were turning to engage. "C turret has no firing solution, sir!"

"C turret targets the Trento to our aft, support our destroyers." Torres added, letting the XO relay the instruction.

Twenty seconds later, Filip and Luis report heavy incoming fire from the Roma, the enemy has changed target. "It seems like they want to remove the nuisance that is our smoke screen." Torres commented.

"Have the Filip and Luis takes evasive maneuver."

The radio operator nods before sending over the command, he does turn to question. "Sir, Filip, and Luis say it will lessen the effectiveness of the smoke screen if they do that."

"Tell them to follow the order, their survival is more important right now. We can take a few more hits."

"I will forward it, Admiral."

At this moment, the XO turns around with a phone by his ear. "A and B turrets are loaded, sir!"

"Fire!" With the instruction given, the six barrels of 381 mm goodness spat flame. Viewing with his binoculars, Torres can barely make out harmless shell splashes around the enemy Trento some 18 km away. "No effect! Recalculate the solution, and adds 2 more knots to the equation!"

"Command relayed, sir!" The XO reported.

The radar operator adds soon after. "They're approaching dangerously near the 15 km warning radius, Admiral!" 15 km is the torpedo range for most of the torpedoes in the Sardegnian arsenal.

"Steady course! The gunners need stability right now!" Torres, however, opts to ignore the warning for now. Unfortunately, the radar operator screams. "Not good, the last two light cruisers are coming directly towards starboard! They're Condottieries!"

"Damn, of all time and it has to be now." Torres mutters. "Santiago and Filip move to intercept and eliminate the two light cruisers if possible! Luis stays on the lookout for torpedoes coming from the front!"

"Relayed, sir!" 

"Gunnery reports A and B are readied!"

"Fire!" Again, the main guns sang a perfect crescendo. Perfect because, with the remedied calculation from Torres, they scores a remarkable four hits on the Trento, blowing the vessel out of the water, literally.

"Cruiser Amalfi, sunk!"

A cacophony of cheers erupts on the bridge and Torres can even feel the jubilation mood from the crew in the A and B turrets all the way up on the bridge. The good news doesn't stop coming, soon, the radio operator reports.

"Destroyer Elena reported torpedoes hitting enemy destroyer Pisa, the ship is breaking apart!"

This time, the roaring cheer raises up a notch. Torres lets them be for exactly five seconds with a small, proud smile before going on to say. "This battle is far from over, gentlemen. I want us to keep the ball going."

"Relay my instructions. Primaries and secondaries are to target the Condottieries. Keep loading HE."

"Got it, Admiral."

"Admiral!" The radar operator exclaimed. "The enemies on all sides are closing the distant at flank speed, all of them are breaking past 15 km!"

"All vessels, prepare for torpedo evasion!" Torres ordered while scanning the enemies surrounding them. 

Ahead of the Tanager and the Luis are two destroyers, both are already in a good position to release eight torpedoes each. To the Tanager's starboard, the two Condotieries are steaming toward the Tanager, slipping past the slower formation of the Santiago and Filip. For this pair, Torres can see they are somewhat struggling to turn to their sides to launch their fish. Most pressingly though, to the Tanager's stern, the enemy Trento and its remaining destroyer escort are blazing through the outgunned Spanish destroyers.

"Order to follow. Stern battery and secondaries to fire at the cruiser behind us!"

Although the stern gunnery crews swiftly followed through with the order, it still doesn't stop the enemy to approach a dangerous 8 km, leaving behind a crippled Spanish destroyer. "Destroyer Julia reports catastrophic damage! All of its guns are disabled!"

"Have Julia retreated while she still can!"

"Damn it, that cruiser is turning port side alongside the destroyer! C turret, what the hell are you doing!?" The XO screamed over the internal comms.

Ignoring the shout, the gunner of the C turret adopts a calm facade while working on his magic. With only one shot, he is not allowed to miss. Right at the moment when the enemy Trento crosses the 6.5 km mark with all of its torpedoes calibrated and readied, the C turret unleashes its volley. The three 381 mm shells cover the nautical distance in a span of six seconds and all of them hit true. The HE shells completely obliterate the front half of the Trento, earning the Tanager crew another well-earned kill.

Their effort, however, doesn't stop Trento's accompanying destroyer to release its fish. In fact...

"Not good! Luis reports torpedoes to bow!" The radio operator shouted.

"Sir, multiple torpedoes to starboard!"

"We have more to the stern, Admiral!"

"Hard to port! Speed, 1/4!" Torres instantly ordered. The helmsman is quick to comply and spin the steering wheel, causing the Tanager to lean to a side and throw off a bunch of firing solutions.

While this happens, Santiago and Filip tear down a Condottieri, albeit too late. "Cruiser Archemede is flooding heavily... No! It has sunk!"

Yet, to douse cold water over the palpating heart of the Tanager's crew, a shell from the Roma tear through the stern of the Filip, all the way to its citadel, before exploding. Being hit with a 381 mm shell in such a critical area, Filip's hull collapse internally before the entire ship spews out smoke and fires from whatever gaps they can find. In this case, the turrets, specifically the C and D turrets are shot high up into the sky.

"No! The Filip's ammo stowage has been hit!" The XO spotted the exploding ship, his face paled for his best friend served aboard the vessel.

"Admiral, the Captain of the Filip reported that they are now abandoning ship. He also offers his apology, sir."

"The Filip fought well, may she rest in peace." Torres acknowledged the report with a stern face. The outlook of this battle is getting increasingly bleak.

But first, they must survive the torpedoes salvos before they can think of avenging the losses. Running to the starboard railings, Torres and his XO spy the ocean for wakes of torpedoes, spotting the majority of them. Counting at least 30 torpedoes being sent their way, Torres makes a last-minute instruction. "All ahead flank, hard starboard!" 

Spinning the steering wheel to starboard with his right hand slamming the throttle control of the Tanager forward, the helmsman successfully squeezes the Tanager through the majority of the deadly cross-torping. The keyword is a majority.

"Brace for impact!" Torres warned before he, alongside the sailor, crouched and covered their heads. 

Three torpedoes impacted near the starboard stern, rocking the entire Tanager and causing a series of flooding to take place. The XO runs to the comms to check and take in the damage report. "Damn! We lost one engine and rudders are barely responding! Moderate floodings are filling up the stern and DCP is working on stopping the water from coming in!"

The helmsman adds. "Admiral, we are losing too much speed! We can't take any more flooding or we're sitting duck!"

"All guns, engage the last Condottieri! I want that thing being blown out of the water!" Torres ordered, partly frustrated by the inopportune torpedo hits.

After calculating the loss in stability, the Tanager is partly sinking in aft, the main guns and secondaries fire at the same time, blotting the air with shells for a few seconds. It's unsure what shell, or shells hit the last enemy light cruiser but the cruiser blacked out with smoke before being lifted a few meters above the sea as an explosion tears out its waterline. 

"Cruiser Borea, sunk!"

"Don't celebrate yet for the Roma is coming in for the kill alongside the two Zaras!" The radar operator said. "They're going for Santiago!"

The radio operator turns to Torres before he can even say anything. "The Santiago reported she is under heavy enemy and has launched her torpedoes in retaliation. She is flooding heavily and is unable to pull back... The Santiago is staying behind, sir."

Sighing, Torres can't help but exclaim. "Damn it."

Turning to view the battle, Torres can see the last destroyer to the stern has been chased away by Torres' own destroyer, it's just that both sides are heavily damaged. On the other side, Torres can see the Luis engaging in a knife fight with enemy destroyers while the limping Santiago is being bombarded by guns of all calibers. Taking a closer look, Torres can see the Santiago has lost its front turrets while the stern turrets are taking whatever shot they can against the enemy Zara class, and hitting too despite the listing the Santiago has. 

A part of Torres is proud while another part of him feels remorse over the loss of such fine sailors. After another short two minutes engagement, a torpedo from Santiago hits the lumbering beast that is the Roma, not before the shells from Roma tear holes below the waterline of Santiago, thus capsizing the ship. It's unsure how effective the torpedo was for Torres can see the Roma still able to maintain its cruising speed, albeit with a bit of list to its port side. 

Ignoring the sailors aboard the Santiago, the Roma and her escorts continue sailing toward the slowing Tanager. Their guns now spewing incessant shells at the Tanager.

And the bad news just keeps coming in. "Sir! The enemy Conte di Cavour is approaching!" 

Hearing this, even Torres has to sigh. "The Roma is angling toward us, keep slinging HE shells at her until I say otherwise. Secondaries are to engage the last Zara on the enemy side. Gentlemen, allow me to say that it has been an honor to serve with you."

"The honor is ours, Admiral." The XO replied.

"We beat them black and blue, sir!"

"We sure carve a page on the history book for this, aren't we?"

"Damn right we did!"

"God is with us!" It started from one.

"God is with us!" Then the other.

"GOD IS WITH US!" Finally, the entire bridge cheered along, even Torres.

"Let's teach them a lesson they will never, ever forget!" Torres said heatedly with a wide grin.

"Yes, sir!!!"

With morale successfully reignited, Torres turns to the radio operator. "Get the Air Force on the line. It's about time they join the fray."

"I'm on it, Admiral!"

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Mihaly Dumitru Margareta Corneliu Leopold Blanca Karol Aeon Ignatius Raphael Maria Niketas A. Shilage.

That's my full name, a name that hasn't been uttered for decades. And no, it isn't because the name is too long to remember. It's because I have merely discarded it for the time being. The story behind that can be retold on another occasion.

Those who know me on the surface called me Mihaly A. Shilage now. 

"Sol 1, that's the last Falco you're chasing." My wingman, Sol 2, said over comms, having cleaned up the airspace of the couple dozens of Falcos.

Pushing the throttle level, I opt to put my Bf-109 K hot on the tail of the remaining Falco, our distance reducing to a mere 500 meters. Noticing me trailing behind him, the pilot of the Falco utilizes its lighter airframe, performing a series of maneuvers in the hope to shake me off. That pilot sure understands his aircraft well.

Were it any other pilots, the enemy Falco may have succeeded in making them overshoot before getting a bead on their tail instead. Yet, he comes across me piloting, perhaps, the most advanced fighter in this quadrant of the globe. For a moment, I can even feel the desperation of the enemy pilot after failing to shake me off for what seems to be the fifth time.

Had he smartened up and tried to engage me in a turn fight, I would have been impressed and commended him for a great effort. Sadly for him, he failed to live up to the expectation. Moving my crosshair over to the left wing of the Falco, I depress my trigger before a burst of white tracers hit the wing root of the Falco. The mix of 8 mm Mauser and 20 mm shells completely destroyed the root, cutting off the wing before the Falco starts an uncontrol spiral to the right. Circling over the falling Falco, I fail to see a chute before it tumbles into the ocean.

"A shame." I muttered before leveling my aircraft. My wingmates then join me before we resume our patrol pattern.

"You could have finished sooner, Sol 1." Sol 2 said.

"I wanted to understand my enemy." I responded.

"Does it even matter?" 

"It does if you want to survive the cruel sky." I answered in a calm voice. "Take it from my experience in the Great War."

"I will keep that in mind." Sol 2 added. "We have received the signal. It's time to escort our bombers to attack the enemy vessels."

Looking over to my right, I can see Sol 2 flying near me. "Ammo and fuel status?"

Sol 2 answers first. "Ample ammo and enough fuel for another hour of combat."

"Same as Sol 2." My third wingman added.

"Still have half of my 20 mm shells, should be enough for whatever they throw at us." Said the fourth member of Sol squadron.

Similar replies are given after that down the line till Sol 10. The earlier engagement pitted 20 Bf-109s of Sol squadron and Luna squadron against 25 Re.2001 Falcos from the aircraft carrier Aquila. It wasn't even a fight since both Sol nor Luna squadrons didn't even lose a single aircraft. It goes to reveal that we trumped the Sardegnians in not just equipment but also in experience.

"Form up with Luna squadron, we will be spearheading the bomber formation just as planned." I said.

"Finally, I hope the Papacy navy will be putting much more of a fight. What happened earlier wasn't even a challenge." Sol 7 commented in high spirits.

"Even if that's the case, it's best to keep a cautious attitude. Against the Navy, all it takes is one good hit to knock us out." Sol 2 advised. 

He isn't wrong. Skill in a dogfight can decide life and death, yet, you can only count on your gut and luck against numerous AA guns. It takes a special kind of people to brave incessant tracers and flaks.

I let Sol squadron keeps up the banter while joining Luna squadron. Together, both squads head to join with the Bf-110 Hs formation. In total, 22 Bf-110 Hs, each carrying a single torpedo, will be attacking the Sardegnian naval ships. We, flying Bf-109 Ks, will be providing cover by suppressing enemy AA guns. A part of me thought about just how many of our aircraft will survive. After all, our navy is taking while also dishing out a hell of a beating. 

The rest of the trip to the enemy fleet is made in relatively tense silence since we decide to listen to the comms chatters from Admiral Torres' fleet. Though it isn't all good news, the radio does inspire a part of me to fight harder than ever, knowing that someone else is doing the same on a different battlefield.

After some ten minutes, the collective formation of Bf-109s and Bf-110s arrive above the smoking naval battle. As both Sol and Luna squadrons start surveying the airspace, I can't help but be amazed by the destructive sight below where smoking ships and wreckages are decorating the sea. The quakes of battleship guns and the incessant amount of small-caliber artillery tracers sure create a once-in-a-lifetime sight.

Nonetheless, now is not the time for sightseeing. "Our aim is to disrupt the enemy AA coordinators. Sol squadron, pick your target and engage."

"You hear Sol 1, let's go!" Sol 2 shouted, prompting all other Bf-109s to speed up before diving down on escorts of the transport convoy. Though I can see them, the Bf-110s are also lowering their altitude for a torpedo run on the convoy.

It's at this moment that the enemy vessels finally react and sporadic AA fires are whizzing past our aircraft. Judging from the tracers, they still haven't targeted our torpedo bombers. It will be their undoing.

With 19 other Bf-109s strafing the convoy escorts, ranging from destroyers to cruisers with rockets and guns, I too pick a target of my own. And of all the targets I have to choose, it's a Conte di Cavour battleship. Because why not? 

This battleship has clearly seen a battle for its aft has battle damage. Ignoring the inaccurate flaks and tracers coming from the battleship by flying my plane dangerously low to the surface of the ocean, I then approached a comfortable distance to drop off my 500 kg bomb. The reduced weight allows me to push my plane even fast while the large bomb is skipping across the surface of the water. Pushing my throttle to the max, I then yank my aircraft up vertically, right above the enemy ship before pulling the control stick toward my body. Easing out on the throttle, I allow my 109 to stall while bullets fly past harmlessly around me. After performing a loop, I increase the throttle while aiming the nose of my aircraft at the battleship, just in time to see the bomb I dropped earlier impacts the deck of the Conte di Cavour, bursting it and fiery flash of smoke and fire. Not stopping there, then launch all of my six rockets on top of the battleship. Four of the rockets strike and explode things like the fire director and secondary tower while the last two go in the smokestacks and straight into the boiler rooms. The two rockets then go on to explode in such a critical area that the ship is soon flooded with fire and smoke.

I pull off and level my aircraft parallel to the sea, making a quick getaway from whatever guns are aiming at me. It doesn't take a second look for me to figure out that the battleship earlier has been critically crippled. It will take a few ships to tow it back for repair. A part of me is exhilarated to pull off such an insane stun. Another is a chilling calmness that prompts me to continue with the task.

I soon regain altitude before turning around to see the Bf-110s formation on a steady approach. They are soon under fire by whatever guns the Sardegnians still have left and unfortunately, a Bf-110 is knocked out right off the bat due to a lucky hit while another is caught on fire. By the time the remaining aircraft drop their payload, another one was shot down while two more were left smoking and limping away.

I then perform a strafing run along the length of a destroyer before pulling away. In the corner of my eye, I can see the wake left behind by some thirty torpedoes... Thirty?

Taking another glance at the surface of the ocean, it's indeed more than thirty torpedoes. An intriguing detail to take note of, that's for sure. It would seem that only half of the torpedoes hit their targets, unfortunately. Of the twenty or so transport, only ten are in the process of sinking or already destroyed. A few escorts here and there were also struck by a few torpedoes after over-correcting but most interestingly, the Aquila took two fishes to the port side after the torpedoes corrected their course. From the look of it, the Aquila is also sinking fast for she is listing hard to the port side.

Whoever that was that launched the additional torpedoes sure earn their paycheck.

Taking one last glance at the half-disabled convoy, I regain my altitude once again and so does Sol and Luna squadron. We're done here.

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Numerous explosions appear on the deck of the Tanager as she is being bombarded by not just the Roma but also the remaining Conte di Cavour which is the Giulio Cesare. Both the enemy battleships and their remaining escorts have joined forces and together, have brought the Tanager down to her last leg, the Luis having retreated earlier after taking heavy damage. 

As of right now, Tanager is the last obstruction in the Sardegnians' path toward Comberth Harbor. 

Coughing up smoke and some blood, Torres pulls himself up using the map table, turning to search for his XO. "Give me a report, now!"

Leaning over to one side with an arm holding a bleeding wound over his ribs, the XO answers with much difficulty, though not lacking in guts and spirits. "C turret is out, sir. A shell detonated and destroyed the internal, thankfully there wasn't an ammo explosion. A turret reported that their horizontal drive is disabled, it's unknown whether they can bring it back up..."

Taking in a pained breath, the XO continues. "We're taking in heavy flooding to our aft, DCP reported they can't stop the flooding so we are sinking slowly and dead in the water."

"...So, it's time." Torres muttered, earning a few nods around him. After being battered for the better part of the day, Not a single soul on the bridge escaped unscathed.

"Remaining guns are to continue fighting until they cannot." His words are punctuated by the B turret defiantly firing at the enemy. "They shall not pass!"

Torres' short speech is transmitted across the ship, rekindling the fighting spirit befitting the Spanish warriors. Against the odds, the remaining guns of the Tanager stubbornly come to life, earning more hits on any vessels they can target. With the distance reduced to a mere 12 km, hitting a ship proved too easy for the crew of the Tanager. Ignoring the barraging from the smaller Sardegnian vessels, the gunnery crews of the Tanager bring everything they can to bear, even handheld machine guns are brought to the deck. It's the spirit that counts.

That is until the Roma and Giulio Cesare decide that they have had enough. With a collective broadside from two battleships, the Tanager is hit by no less than 15 shells, all of them armed along the starboard of the Tanager, causing a chain of explosions that further decrease the ship's structural stability. Receiving such a devastating hit, Torres has knocked to the floor once again. With his ears ringing, Torres can barely hear his XO shouting about the complete loss of starboard secondaries, the ensuing fire down the hull, and the worsening flooding. The Tanager is truly sinking to her demise now.

Feeling himself being propped up, Torres shouts words that he himself can barely hear.

"All non-combatants and DCP abandon ship!"  Shrugging off the helping hand, Torres stood tall on his own two feet.

"Admiral, the Roma, and Cesare have ceased firing! They're coming across our bow!" A sailor, bruised and bloodied, reported. "One of their destroyers is also approaching us!"

Torres takes a dizzy look at the battleships coming 10 km away and a destroyer clearly closing into appraise the sinking Tanager. At this angle, the destroyer should be coming along the port side.

Turning over to the XO, Torres queries with renewed intensity. "Port side secondaries still operational or not!?"

Not missing a beat, the XO replies. "Almost all of them are combat-capable, sir!"

"Good, I want them to be prepared to greet that foolish destroyer captain! Tell them to only fire when they're sure that all of the shells can hit! After that, have them abandon the ship. The Tanager has done her best." Torres then proceed to walk unsteady steps.

"Sir, where are you going?" The XO shouted the question before he disappeared lower into the hull.

"To do what I do best!" Torres replied, quickening the pace to the B turret.

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It takes a special kind of people to hit a moving target in the middle of a storm 25 km away, and it takes an even more special kind to hit it in the second shot. Torres can confidently say that he was the latter, his record used to cause a big splash in a not-so-small number of news outlets too. As of this moment, standing in the gunnery room of B turret, Torres is now channeling every fiber of his being to make one last shot at the sister ship of the Tanager. Slowly, the B turret is turned in the direction of the Roma.

Using the cracked optic, Torres and the remaining B turret crew work hard to make a satisfying firing solution. "No... It must be elegant!" They only have one shot at this chance, after all.

Ignoring the unsuspecting destroyer closing in on their port side bow, Torres and the crew make the last adjustments.

"Bearing 352...

"Range... 11 km now."

"Speed... 19 knots, unchanged."

"Adjusting for overall instability and elevation... Damn it! Fire control error! We can't depress the elevation of the barrels!" The gunnery officer couldn't help but curse out loud, his sentiment was mirrored by those still alive.

After taking in too much flooding in the aft, the Tanager's B turret is raised too high to shoot something directly ahead of their bow. With the firing window on the eve of slipping past their hands, the B turret crew is sporting unwilling expressions on their faces.

Torres, however, makes a quick second decision. "Tell DCP to flood the fore end of the ship!" 

Though an officer runs out to comply with the order, a sailor can't help but raise a concern. "Sir, the boat will sink faster with that!"

"And that will give the guns the depression they need!" Torres enlightened the foolish sailors on his dastardly plan. They then scramble to double-check their firing solution while an influx of seawater is now flooding the fore end of the Tanager.

"A decorated boat, powerful guns, excellent fire control...!" Minus three degrees till optimal firing angle.

"Add to that veteran seamen...!" Two degrees till optimal firing angle.

"And a precise aim!" One degree till optimal firing angle.

"Then sprinkle death all over it and the formula is complete!" Optimal firing angle reached.

*BOOM*

The last operating 381 mm guns sing their last huzzah, accompanied by the gleeful laugh of Torres who knows that he has achieved the most elegant solution he could think of. At the same time, the remaining secondaries to the port side of the Tanager open up on the enemy destroyer that has foolishly closed into a distance of 3 km. They have been hiding behind the armored covers of the Tanager, luring the unsuspecting destroyer to come closer.

Crossing the distance of 10 km in mere seconds, the three 381 mm shells penetrate broadsided citadel of the Roma before arming themselves in the fore magazines. The explosions generated by the three shells when combined with the ammunition stowage of the Roma have devastated the vessel amidships. Sardegnian Naval Admiral Oscar Di Giamberardino was killed almost immediately with the ensuing magazine detonation. Eyewitnesses will go on to say that the Roma was lifted into the air for a few seconds before breaking apart with its fore end completely separated from the hull. The shock from the sudden loss of the flagship stunned the Papal fleet for minutes, letting to the subsequent destruction of the destroyer Ferruccio.

It's only ten minutes after the sinking of the Roma that Giulio Cesare finally reacts and retaliates with all of her 320 mm guns, in fact, all remaining Sardegnian vessels open up, torpedoes and all. With shells and torpedoes impacting the hull from every direction, the Tanager's crew struggles to stay alive by diving into the water. Yet, none of the surviving Spanish hold any misgiving, they all sporting spirited smiles, borderline madness in the precarious situation.

On the Sardegnians' side of things, they can swear an oath that the Tanager, and by extension Torres, was laughing mockingly at them till the very last moment.

This marks the end of the biggest naval battle ever since the Great War. Though the Spanish Inquisition lost the battle, they have beaten the Sardegnian bloodied at their own game. Smearing a permanent stain on their proud navy, forever placing them at the lower rung of the totem pole. And with the rest of the Spanish fleet successfully evacuated, the Inquisition Navy will later on become a major thorn in the Papacy's side.

Ultimately, it will be the Spanish that prevails against their former master.