The South's overwhelming growth had changed many things.
The fundamental scale of the economy had shifted. Wasteful spending had been cut. Businesses and factories had been optimized. Naturally, the South's export volume had climbed nearly vertical.
And more than 80% of those exports moved by sea—bound for the Central Empire and markets beyond.
For pirates, that was prey too good to pass up.
The truly massive vessels, tens of thousands of tons, were beyond their reach. But the sailing ships still plying those waters? Easy pickings.
"The age of great piracy begins!"
Those who raised the black flag and sailed out with that proclamation had no idea what fear was.
"The South? Pfft, they're busy fighting the West right now. You think they've got the bandwidth to worry about us?"
The number of pirate attacks climbed day by day.
At the forefront of it all was the Black Flag Pirates.
A crew with dozens of successful raids in a single year alone.
They'd reinvested those plunder profits into more ships, recruited more men, and quietly built themselves into a genuine power. A proper fleet, their own mages, and—crude compared to the East's, but functional enough—their own Abyssal Monster Corps. There was no one in the South's waters who could stand against them.
"At this point, even the South's regular navy wouldn't dare touch us. Rest easy in our waters, men."
"Ha-ha-ha! That's our captain!"
And honestly, he wasn't entirely wrong.
The cost of suppressing pirates had consistently outweighed the damage they caused, so anti-piracy operations had been pushed far down the priority list.
What finally drew the South's attention had nothing to do with the raids themselves.
"The South won the war against the West in a single week?"
When the Black Flag captain heard that, his interest locked onto one thing: the South's new weapons.
Firearms. Artillery.
What kind of power could they gain if they got their hands on the weapons that had crushed every enemy in their path?
Pirates never had much patience for restraint.
"We've got plenty of money, right? Try smuggling a few pieces. Let's see what they can do."
"Yes, Captain!"
That desire turned out to be the worst decision they ever made.
No matter how carefully pirates moved, they couldn't slip past the eyes of the South Duke's modern intelligence apparatus.
The South's Intelligence Bureau held absolute authority over information management within its territory. The surveillance network it had cast over strategic materiel was thorough and tight.
*Bang—!*
The smugglers, just moments from handing over the weapons, were simultaneously subdued by a group of men in suits who came out of nowhere.
"W-who are you people?!"
"Intelligence Bureau. You'd be wise to tell us, in full and without omission, exactly where you were planning to move these weapons."
"And if I refuse?"
The suited agent didn't bother with a long answer.
He simply clapped twice, calling the other agents in.
"Boys, our guest says he'd like some soup."
At first, the smugglers had no idea what that meant.
Not until they were in the basement of the South Duke's castle, inhaling soup through their noses.
"I'll talk—I'll tell you everything! Please, just let me live!"
And so the smugglers gave up every piece of information they had.
South Duke Kayl Leopold received the report and answered without hesitation.
"Smuggling strategic materiel is a serious crime—one that could undermine the very foundation of the South. Execute every last smuggler, and sweep out every single one of those who dared attempt it."
That was the moment the Black Flag Pirates became the target of an experiment.
"A fine enemy to test the new submarine fleet on."
The South's retribution didn't take long.
White foam trails sliced through the predawn sea, shattering the outer walls of the pirates' harbor and breaking the peaceful quiet of morning.
***
"We're under attack!"
Panicked voices rang out across the still harbor in the early morning.
The pirate ships moored in their rows scrambled into motion. Beneath the water, the Abyssal Monster riders rushed to mount their creatures.
At first, every one of them was confident.
Whatever anyone said, the Black Flag Pirates were the masters of the South's seas.
No one who dared shatter their harbor walls and run had ever gotten away with it.
Six sailing ships raised their pirate flags high, unfurled their sails, and moved out onto the water with swagger.
The finest sailors in the South's waters—they were certain they'd find the enemy in no time.
...At least, they had been certain. Up until thirty minutes ago.
"There's nothing out here, Captain."
But the morning sea was quiet.
As if the massive explosion that had shattered the predawn silence and rocked the harbor had never happened at all.
The cold sea drifted on, calm and indifferent.
"Keep looking! I said find them!"
Still, the pirates couldn't fall back.
Pirates lived and ate by reputation. Everyone had to fear them—that was the only way they could raid in peace.
Which meant they absolutely could not allow someone to land a hit and disappear into the dark.
Let this happen again and again, and the great name of the Black Flag Pirates would crumble.
"If you let them run without finding them, I'll kill you myself!"
Every captain was desperate to locate the enemy.
"They've taken the bait."
To the submarine fleet lurking beneath the surface, that desperation was nothing but opportunity.
In the hushed interior of the submarine—so quiet you couldn't even hear a swallow—the operations officer carefully addressed the captain.
"Shall we begin the hunt?"
"Not yet."
Ethan, captain of U-7, raised one hand and cut the officer off.
The enemy surface ships hadn't yet entered the ambush zone.
"I can feel the lack of experience in our submarine crews like a bone ache."
Ethan was one of the South's finest officers—trusted enough to command an early-model submarine still in its testing phase.
Which was precisely why he could see at a glance how effective the submarine tactics Lord Kayl Leopold had laid out truly were.
"If only we could execute that doctrine properly, we wouldn't need a passive ambush like this. We could move aggressively."
Wolfpack.
Like a wolf pack—submarines scattered in all directions, one vessel striking a target and pulling away while another hit from behind. That was the doctrine.
The moment Ethan had read through its details, he'd known instinctively: this was what the submarine force had to become.
But in the same breath, he'd felt just how much crew proficiency it would demand to execute those maneuvers perfectly.
"The enemy has finally entered the kill zone."
Ethan clicked his tongue with a trace of frustration and gave the order.
"Begin the attack."
He hoped that before the naval showdown with the East arrived, they'd have moved beyond these basic, passive ambushes and mastered the Wolfpack doctrine completely.
*Krrrumble—!*
Compressed air detonated inside the torpedo tubes, and two torpedoes slid silently toward the surface.
***
Whether Ethan of U-7 was satisfied or not, the torpedoes performed flawlessly.
*Boom—!*
A large pirate sailing ship—thirty-six guns mounted across both sides—was swallowed by a towering column of water and vanished.
No time to see it coming. No time to react. It was over in an instant. Even the finest captain alive had no way to detect an attack he couldn't see.
"What happened?!"
"Captain! Our flagship—!"
As the spray settled, what it revealed was horrific.
The hull had been split clean in two. Both halves were sinking in opposite directions. Only the screams of the pirates carried across the water.
"Wh—what the—!"
Every captain on every pirate ship in that moment had exactly one thought.
*Survive.*
Decades at sea. They'd witnessed countless mysteries of the deep.
But something that could destroy a ship without a single warning sign—they'd never heard of such a thing.
The captain turned away from the pirates screaming for their lives and gave the order.
"Run! Our lives come first! Turn the ship around—"
*Boom—!*
Another explosion.
Two of the thirty-six-gun sailing ships—the Black Flag Pirates' greatest firepower—went straight to the bottom.
The other vessels scrambled to change course, but it was already far too late.
The moment the sea's silent hunters had revealed their presence—
*Boom—!*
—meant that countless other submarines had already fired their torpedoes.
A moment later.
The last thing the pirates saw, flailing among the wreckage of sunken ships, was a massive slab of steel rising through the calming surface.
The 88mm deck gun mounted on U-7 opened fire, and the surfaced submarines began finishing off the survivors.
"Captain, the enemy's Abyssal Monster Corps will reach us shortly. Shall we eliminate them as well?"
Ethan, captain of U-7, gave a small shake of his head.
Their mission was strictly the destruction of the sailing ships and execution of the ambush operation.
"No. We withdraw here."
The allies who would handle the small fry below the waterline were already coming from the sky.
"The knights who just joined us need a chance to practice for the showdown with the East, too."
Silhouetted against the rising morning sun, thirty Wyvern Knights—their mounts freshly modified—swept into the engagement zone.