Chapter 87: Anomaly in the Eastern Sea

Chapter 87: Anomaly in the East Sea

The East Sea, along the coast of Fusang.

Lacking advanced observation methods, the people here knew nothing about the gluttonous fleet roaming the solar system. They simply believed the alien invasion crisis on Earth had passed and, in a bid to reclaim a place on the world stage, the government had mobilized the entire nation to resume production, prioritizing all else for economic recovery.

Inoue was a fisherman. Today, he’d received orders to deliver fifty kilograms of fish to the Emperor, who would then redistribute it to workers driving the recovery. Catching fifty kilos of fish wasn’t easy, so Inoue was forced to venture farther out to sea.

Winds and waves battered his modest fishing boat, making it toss violently, as if it might capsize at any moment. Yet the danger didn’t faze him; what truly unsettled him was that despite venturing so deep, he’d managed to catch barely any fish.

Failure to deliver the required catch would earn him the label of criminal, a drag on the nation’s rise—a role Inoue had no wish to play. For his family and himself, he repeatedly cast his net.

Hauling in one empty net after another, he pushed still deeper, letting his net sink toward the unfathomable depths. After relentless effort, this time the net felt unusually heavy as he drew it in, prompting him to quickly switch on the winch.

As the machine whirred, the net groaned and strained, the boat listing precariously. Yet to Inoue, this struggle was a sign of achievement—surely, where there was such risk, there must also be reward.

According to regulations, a catch of five hundred kilos would earn a merit. Accumulate ten such merits, and even a lowly fisherman could rise to the lowest rank of nobility—a status that guaranteed security and comfort, never mind the political privileges that accompanied it.

Lost in these dreams, Inoue watched the net rise, unblinking, his mind already living the life of a noble.

He barely noticed when three bulges, resembling underwater springs, appeared beside his boat. His thoughts were utterly consumed by the vision of his future status.

As the net drew nearer the surface, three massive shadows loomed beneath the water, one directly under his boat. Inoue, jolted from his reverie, grew alarmed at their sheer size.

Had he caught whales? If so, his small boat could be overturned in an instant.

His excitement turned to icy dread—he couldn’t risk this catch.

With practiced efficiency, he drew his knife and slashed the net free, then started the engine at the stern, retreating while keeping a nervous eye on the shadows below.

But as the net fell away, the shadows did not sink or diminish. Instead, they seemed to sense his escape and swelled rapidly, becoming even larger.

Inoue fled for several hundred meters, growing more anxious as the three bulges on the surface followed. He pushed the engine to its limit, desperate to escape the surfacing giants.

After five hundred meters, he finally dared to relax. At such a distance, even surfacing whales posed no threat—at worst, he’d simply witness a spectacle of nature.

He cut the engine, intending to watch this rare sight. Though a fisherman by trade, he’d never seen anything like it before.

Soon, three enormous black fish emerged where the bulges had been. They didn’t look like whales.

Puzzled, Inoue wondered what kind of fish had three round holes on its face. Had he discovered a new species?

As he pondered, the three leviathans slowly rose from the sea, ascending into the air before his bewildered eyes.

Realization struck: these were not creatures of Earth but beings from another world.

Understanding this, he hurriedly reached for a satellite phone stored in a plastic case to call for help.

But the great fish were not without intelligence. Seeing him produce an electronic device—the communication tool of these “Shinkawa beings”—one emitted a deep, muffled hum from its orifices, sending out a wave invisible to the human eye.

The wave swept through Inoue’s body, and the moment he dialed, the phone sparked and died. Inoue himself began to bleed from every orifice, his brain turning to physical mush as he collapsed onto his boat.

Having eliminated this threat, the great fish wasted no time and headed directly toward the nearest Shinkawa settlement.

Meanwhile, the Fusang Fisheries Bureau received the distress call, but heard nothing before it was abruptly disconnected. The staff member paid it little mind, assuming it was a wrong number, and, upon checking the caller’s details, saw it was just a small fishing boat—hardly likely to have ventured far or run into real trouble.

The three great fish, who had just shown their merciless nature, were vanguard soldiers catalyzed on Earth by the Triangular Civilization, sent to probe the armed strength of terrestrial powers.

Within twenty minutes, they reached the Fusang coast.

The authorities, having detected their approach, deployed the nation’s pride—the Godon mechs—constructed with the entire nation’s resources, to intercept the Triangulars.

As the two sides met, the pilots of the Godon mechs broadcast loudly: “Unknown extraterrestrial beings, you have entered the territorial waters of Fusang. You are not welcome here! Leave immediately or we will resort to force.”

After broadcasting this three times with no response, the pilots reasoned that these aliens might not understand their language. Recalling that Mandarin was the standard among the “Shinkawa language family” and that even aliens used it, they repeated the message three times in halting Mandarin.

This time, the three great fish halted, to the pilots’ relief—they thought the aliens would now withdraw.

After all, the Godon mechs represented Fusang’s fate; any loss would be catastrophic, especially since any alien capable of reaching Earth must be formidable.

But before they could celebrate, one of the three fish surged ahead and intoned, “We—soldiers—probe—strength—battle.”

The three pilots were momentarily stunned, needing a moment to parse the alien speech. After a quick discussion, they guessed the meaning and took up defensive stances.

No sooner had they formed up than the alien shot toward them at incredible speed.

The Godon pilots retreated rapidly, unleashing every missile they carried as they withdrew.

In an instant, the sky was filled with streaking missiles, raining down upon the aliens, who pressed forward without pause.

The pilots were elated—surely, as living creatures, these aliens could not withstand such a barrage.

But it was not their fault for thinking so. Fusang, a tiny island nation, had never hosted gods or super-soldiers; their only enemy had been scattered gluttonous fleets, which had decimated Fusang’s forces tenfold.

Yet, just as the missiles reached within ten meters of the aliens, they vanished without trace before the pilots’ astonished eyes—as if swallowed by nothingness.

The squad leader’s instincts screamed danger. He barked a warning over the radio—“Danger!”—and then made a short-range dash.

The other two pilots, confused by the warning, nevertheless trusted their leader and prepared to follow.

But their brief hesitation—barely a second—proved fatal. In that second, the very missiles that had disappeared reappeared around their mechs.

Before the squad leader’s shocked gaze, his two comrades were consumed by their own missiles, as was his own previous position.

Grief lasted only a heartbeat; stunned by the deaths of his comrades and the blow to his nation’s fate, he froze.

As he hesitated, the alien came for him. The command center, observing his state, shouted urgent reminders through his headset.

Snapping to attention, the squad leader felt his eyes redden with fury. A word surfaced in his mind: “Honor in death.”

Driven by this emotion, he forgot fear, drew the alloy greatsword from his back, and launched himself forward with a burst of blue flame from his jetpack, aiming straight for the foremost Triangular.

Pride surged in his chest—he would slay this alien to avenge his comrades and offer a sacrifice for Fusang’s fallen destiny.

But as he closed to within a kilometer of the alien, a strange sensation overtook him. His organs trembled, his brain throbbed with pain, and he felt something wet trickling down his face.

He sensed, with keen clarity, that he was not long for this world. But he didn’t care—he had no family, only Fusang and his comrades to fight for.

Though weakened, he gritted his teeth and pushed his energy output to the limit, gripping the alloy sword with both hands and hurtling toward the alien at even greater speed.

Yet, as he entered within two hundred meters, a deep hum sounded once more. Lightning danced across the Godon mech as the squad leader spat a mouthful of dark blood.