Chapter 9: Chapter 9: The Golden Conference

Yo. This Dick is free.

Oreo spread his wings over the rebel fleet, which was the signal for my marines hidden in the city to lower the storm gate—which apparently involved mugging an old magician locked in his ivory tower and getting him to lower the damned thing on gunpoint. I can just imagine a SWAT team barging in on an old man making mystery stew or someshit.

Y’know, I’m impressed someone actually thought of magically squeezing up the fucking ocean floor to make an impromptu storm gate in case there’s something like an ultra-tsunami or ultra-hurricane from the Pacific. How much of a madlad ya gotta be to think that up, huh?

If that guy’s a madlad, the next one’s brainfucked-cracked-nuts to think up stopping a runaway floating island by ramming it—me—up the ass with it.

I’m not sure if I should be pissy or impressed. I’m a little bit of both right now, so I’ll let it settle for a couple of days and see if I’ll come up with a medal or a cookie made of baking powder for the crazy M.F.

I also let out a good, long honk to let everyone know I’m pissy and I’m comin’ for ’em.

 * * *

So everything worked out and the rebel fleet didn’t open fire. Thank God.

Sam and Oreo came back pretty happy about stretching their wings again for once.

{Heeey—yer all back! Nice job out there, ya looked good!}

“T’is all a matter of due course. For now—we wait.”

Sam has a faraway look towards the port city. I change course so that the angle of the sun perfectly strikes her face. Of course, I’m fucking dumb coz she’ll just keep looking towards the city, so changing course does nil shit.

I end up parking in the middle of the bay. Honestly, I’m plenty nervous right now. I’m not sure how powerful magic cannons are, but I can’t imagine they’re more powerful than my railguns. Still, can my armor handle it? Can I feel pain? Not an experiment I wanna try.

 * * *

An hour after Sam’s announcement, one of the Japanese battleships hooks up right beside me. For some reason, Embro Hero and crew’s coming back with the C.O.’s of the two factions. Everyone’s brought along some sort of entourage.

Now Embro’s tryna get the most Texan Texan I’ve ever seen to shoot him from 30 feet away. I’m not sure what’s going on.

{Yo, is that safe?}

The generals and their aides are surprised. Whoops, kinda forgot people aren’t used to talking ships. Actually, they probably think I’m just a rude dude?

“Haha! Kaminari-dono! Are you in good health? Come! Watch us!”

Embro looks like he’s having fun—with getting shot? You okay, dude? The Texan let off a nervous yeehaw.

“… ain’t my problem if ya get hit, a’ight?”

“Hahaha—let us demonstrate.”

W-woah there, I can physically feel the aura.

The generals are taken aback. Sam and Oreo’s taken aback. The Japanese are prostrating.

Texas Red panicked and did the fastest gunslingin’ I’ve ever seen. He fires off six shots, reloads, and fires off another six shots—all in under 3 seconds. Damn.

Embro Hero just fucking cuts all the bullets out of the air.

I can’t see his hands, what the fuck.

The first thing and last thing I saw was his hand on the hilt. That shit’s real? The fuck?

I think I’ve set a new personal record for number of fucks given per second. Is there such a thing as a fuckslinger? Guess that’s me now.

A smile returns to Embro’s face. “Hahahaha, fun! Such fun!”

“W-well I’ll be, y-y’all darn fast with y-ya hands.”

Hey. I wanna know. Do the Japanese really need to ask for help? Can’t this guy just solo the demons?

“Ahhh, I have not stretched like this since the last time I went into the Demonlands!”

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I’m surprised they haven’t won yet. On the other hand, apparently they’re big enough of a threat that Hero taking a stroll just ain’t enough to take them on. I’ll keep that in mind.

 * * *

“Everyone.”

Sam comes out of the bridge, attended by Oreo. On cue, I bring up the elevator closest to the bridge. The generals and their aides become nervous about the noise, but Sam assures them that it’s part of the ship’s operation.

Yep, Dick’s raisin’—an elevator. Nothin’ to see.

What’s brought up are chairs and tables. Naturally, they’re weighed down with sandbags. It’s real weird that I’ve just got a ton of sand in storage somewhere, though.

Everyone sits across everyone, aaand—

“I am hereby proclaiming control of the Golden Port and all military forces stationed here! You are now all part of the Holy Crusade!”

Sam’s words blow everyone away.

“If you resist, you will be destroyed. This ship is equipped with enough power to decimate this city five times over. Moreover, I will personally ride into combat upon mine knight and smite anyone who disagrees.”

“Aw, that’d be nice, though—ow!”

Hm? I think I heard a weird comment from somewhere. Must’ve been the wind.

“If you join me and this Holy Crusade, we will overturn the times. We will liberate Merika’s heart, and then we will aid our allies to the east and west. I say this, for we stand upon a legend!”

She stands up. “You stand upon the Holy Island of legend!”

I fuckin’ honk to top it off.

The generals are a little bit out of it, though. Sam’s a bit nervous that her delivery didn’t get through to them.

“M-ma’am princess, I—I can’t really believe it. We dun even know what the Holy Island’s like, y’hear? Sum vague tongue-dung like ‘It’s bloody huge’ don’t explain anythin’.”

“I second the doubt. Furthermore, I have a migraine and I will not last longer than 5 minutes at this rate.”

“Generals-dono, it is true.” Embro Hero yanks in one of the Battleship Captains. “This is Captain Nihonno of the Battleship Muramita.”

“It is true!” the guy says. He looks a bit… I don’t know how to say this—overworked? “We had lost 5 of our fighting ships, including one battleship, merely to destroy one tama—”

“Hol’ up, son, what’s that? ‘Taymay’?”

“… ah, it is a great sphere of 5 arms’ diameter, and floats above the height of a mast of our Kimetsu-class battleships. It has but one form of attack and only at short range, but its armor is resilient, and its attacks are swift once it reaches you. We would not have seen today if not for Gunner Yamako’s skill at long range.”

“What a terrifying foe.” The royal general remarks this time. “I had observed the general design of your battleship earlier, and I cannot help but think—the Merikan Navy cannot defeat even one of them.”

“Whut? Ya really think that, Willie? Gimme a break! We’ll fill ’er up with lead, we might!”

“But it is that way, John, and precisely because of that. Our ships rely on massed, rapid fire, and so our cannons are a caliber less powerful than the Japanese, who mount small numbers of larger cannons on a few turrets. If we encounter a heavily-armored enemy much like that, our payloads won’t even leave a scratch on them.”

Before a depressed mood overcomes the two, Captain Nihonno continues:

“This ship, however! It destroyed three of the tama with impunity! One with deceptively-small missiles, and the other two with single blows from a thunderous weapon, each!”

Aw yeah, hype me up, Captain, I like that.

“This is true! I saw it and thought to myself, ‘What a terrible joke.’”

 

I didn’t expect the reactions of the generals. I mean, the prim-looking one just fucking passed out right then and there. Texas Red went and vomitted over the railing.

Conference concluded, I guess.

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