Editing Tytania:Volume 3 Chapter 4 (section)

=== II ===
The change was sudden. The hull jolted violently. For the Tytania soldiers on board, it was almost like being tossed into the air. More than one person barely managed to avoid falling and let out a cry of alarm. A coffee cup, placed at the edge of the command desk, slid into the air along with its saucer and smashed against the floor with a crash of protest.

Ariabert gazed at the screen. The computer-corrected image showed delicate glimmers dancing wildly within the pitch-black depths of the sea. It was a decoy<ref name="ftn15">“Decoy” (囮) is pronounced “decoy”.</ref> released by the enemy to disrupt the Tytania military’s reconnaissance systems. The Tytania formation had fallen into disarray, and an operator, clinging to the control console, reported the presence of an intense current reaching speeds of sixty kilometres per hour.

Rear-admiral Paulsen cried out:

“Impossible! There’s no way such a strong current could exist in a basin, let alone near the seabed.”

Yet the current was a reality, and it was violently sweeping the Tytania fleet away. Ariabert issued instructions to Captain Chen: “Don’t place too much trust in the data from the Hydrographic Bureau. Calculate backwards from the direction and speed of the current to deduce the seabed topography.” Captain Chen immediately had the operator perform the task, and forty seconds later, the screen began to render the seabed topography as estimated by the computer.

Groans erupted around Ariabert, and the young duke etched a pale smile onto the corner of his lips. They were positioned within a deep-sea corridor where ridges towered high on either side.

“Your Grace, this is…!”

“Did the Hydrographic Bureau deceive us?”

At the cries of his staff officers, Ariabert shook his head.

“No, the people at the Hydrographic Bureau likely know nothing. They probably believe that Tytania simply seized the correct data from them. Otherwise, this stratagem would be unusable.”

Ariabert realised that he had been caught in a ruse.

“Damn it, they got us!” The angry shouts of the subordinates rang out in vain. Navigational assistance from satellite orbit could only reach depths of two thousand metres below sea level, leaving the Tytania fleet with no choice but to act based on the data provided by the Hydrographic Bureau. Furthermore, the enemy had scattered metal and non-metal decoys to confuse Tytania’s search systems. It was not intended to hide the enemy’s location but rather to obscure the seabed topography.

The seawater expanded and exploded. One of the search officers screamed, ripping the headphones from his head. Because the unfortunate man had been engaged in acoustic searching, the intense blast had damaged his eardrums.

It was not a missile that had exploded. The enemy had launched unpropelled explosives, allowing them to surge forward on the ocean currents. The Tytania fleet had been clustered in the centre of the deep-sea corridor formed by these currents. They had been left with no other choice. It was a success for the “vicious terrorists” who had driven the Tytania forces into such a position, rendering Ariabert’s tactical vision and command abilities useless.

A dull vibration and sound were transmitted from outside the hulls, and they continued without interruption. As the pressure from the explosions pressed against the currents, and as each ship began individual manoeuvres to avoid contact with the explosives or the hulls of other vessels, the chaos expanded all at once. Though they were accustomed to piloting within the asteroid belts of outer space, they were caught between the narrowness of the space and a subtle distortion in their sense of time, driven towards catastrophe without the ability to demonstrate their true strength.

“Cruiser ''Bramante III'', communications lost!”

“Battleship ''Beaufort'', heavily damaged! Surfacing to withdraw from the combat zone!”

Digital communications flashed erratically as every ship became shrouded in panic and confusion. Ariabert appeared somewhat pale at his command seat, yet he remained the most composed member of the entire fleet. Staring at the flashes of explosions blinking across the dark screens, he steadied his breathing and issued orders in a voice unchanged from his usual tone.

“All ships, ascend. Break away from the current, and regroup thereafter.”

In this situation, such a conventional command proved effective in curbing the panic. Each captain regained their composure and ordered their ascent. It appeared, for a moment, that the Tytania forces had restored order and were about to resurface to reconstitute the entire fleet. However, even that was merely part of the enemy’s deception.

One of the Tytania ships that had begun its rapid ascent was struck by a thunderous explosion. Fragments of metal and non-metal were ejected in six directions from the fireball, drifting slowly through the dark abyss as they spun, carried away by the intense ocean currents.

Ariabert realised that the enemy’s treachery was double or even triple-layered. The enemy was making the utmost use of the natural environment. They launched explosives towards the far heights, leaving them to sink via gravity. As the Tytania forces ascended sharply, they were effectively charging straight into the explosives themselves.

High-pressure seawater surged into the shattered hull, crushing the crew. Driven by gravity and ocean currents, the vessel careened towards the friendly forces. A vicious cycle of contact, evasion, and re-contact ensued, forcing an unwanted concentration of ships, right at the moment when explosives were hurled into the fray. In the eternal darkness of the deep seabed, orange flashes chained together in spherical bursts.

The successive explosions caused the seawater to boil. The Tytania forces, waiting at low altitude, sensed the anomaly when the sea surface burst and escape pods, resembling large bubbles, began to surface one after another. If they attempted an immediate dive into the ocean, they risked colliding with their surfacing comrades. While working to recover the escape pods, they transmitted communications in search of an accurate report.

An explosion occurred in the immediate vicinity of Ariabert’s flagship, the ''Golden Sheep'', and a torn companion ship collided with the flagship while spinning. This triggered a chain reaction in the engine room, sending flashes of light and vibrations through the entire flagship.

Ariabert’s field of vision changed instantly. He felt his tall frame being flung up the walls towards the ceiling. His flagship was being violently spun by the invisible, massive hands of the ocean currents and the pressure from the explosion. Inside, the crew were tossed about like laundry in a dryer, slammed against the walls, ceiling, and floor. Even those who had remained strapped into their seats were injured by the bodies of flying comrades and loose equipment.

It was not until twenty seconds later that Captain Chen finally managed to stabilise the ship’s orientation.

“Duke…!”

The screams of a staff officer battered his ears, and Ariabert regained consciousness. At first, his sense of up and down was so disrupted that he could not grasp his own orientation. The faces of his staff officers formed a ring around his field of vision. A thin trickle of lukewarm liquid ran past his right ear, and he felt a point of pain at the edge of his forehead.

Once he confirmed he was lying on his back and attempted to sit up, an intense pain exploded in his ribcage. He managed to stifle a scream, but he could not prevent his face from contorting. His ribs were broken.

He had been slammed against the walls and ceiling at least four times. Compared to those who had suffered broken necks or had shards of instruments driven into their eyes, Ariabert’s misfortune could be considered a small one.

Barely able to pull himself upright, and while receiving treatment from the army surgeon, Ariabert ordered his staff officers to announce his injuries to the entire army. Rear-admiral Paulsen, whose face was marred by a dark bruise, voiced his concern.

“But if the enemy intercepts that, it will lead to a disaster.”

“Let it be so. If they give chase, we shall counterattack. If they deem it false intelligence and refrain from pursuit, then we shall return safely. Follow my orders.”

This, too, was a deceptive scheme uncharacteristic of Ariabert. It served as proof of his state of mental instability during this “Phoney War”.

However, Ariabert had sincerely hoped that the enemy would press their advantage and pursue him. He had intended to use his flexible military genius to launch a cunning counteroffensive, thereby clearing the stain of the “Phoney War”. In the end, however, his martial spirit remained unfulfilled. The enemies within the sea had launched no attack. At that time, it was impossible to confirm whether they had intercepted his communications.

… Four hours later, Ariabert entered a private room in a hospital that had been seized by the Tytania forces. The Tytania army had lost sixty vessels, seen twenty-six heavily damaged, and suffered eight thousand battle deaths, only to be driven from the sea, having gained nothing at all.