Deltarune Ships Novels & Stories

"Did you see that? They shot at our plane." Another young soldier, his body trembling, said, "This is crazy! The competition hasn't even started yet, why are we being attacked in the middle of the journey?" Upon hearing the conversation, Niall turned to Elliot, who was silent, deep in thought. “It seems we’re not the only ones experiencing this. Everyone else is too.” Kharel adjusted the position of his backpack and said, “Enough! Let’s go. We still have a long way to go.” Apparently, there were twenty-six small ships, corresponding to the number of kingdoms participating in the competition. The ship with the words Kingdom of Ans De Lou was located in the middle.

Ruelle groaned from my right side. “They took only the pup?” I asked Nevan to be sure, and he nodded frantically, already breaking a sweat from trying to keep up with us. Nevan was going to be a hacker under the Delta who would be Rune when Soren took over. The Delta was usually in charge of communications within and outside the pack, so Rune’s team members didn't need to be fighters but were excellent at getting information, which was why Nevan didn't need strength training. “Yes. They took just the pup”

They close their eyes to the onion. The port was as crowded as Davos had ever known it. Every dock teemed with sailors loading provisions, and every inn was packed with soldiers dicing or drinking or looking for a whore . . . a vain search, since Stannis permitted none on his island. Ships lined the strand; war galleys and fishing vessels, stout carracks and fat-bottomed cogs. The best berths had been taken by the largest vessels: Stannis's flagship Fury rocking between Lord Steffon and Stag of the Sea, Lord Velaryon's silver-hulled Pride of Driftmark and her three sisters, Lord Celtigar's ornate Red Claw, the ponderous Swordfish with her long iron prow. Out to sea at anchor rode Salladhor S

No one dared interfere. I stopped at the edge of the docks, letting the scene unfold. The air smelled of salt and iron, a mix of the ocean breeze and the lingering scent of metal containers baking under industrial lights. Three ships, their massive hulls painted with the logos of international trade, loomed in the harbor. Cranes swung with rhythmic groans, offloading containers stacked high with the goods I’d been tracking for months. Beneath the harsh glow of industrial floodlights, trucks waited in neat rows, their engines purring. Apart from my men, who flanked the place, Bruno Filippo had his crew there too.

"We're out. We're actually out." "Look," Jun whispered. Elara wiped her eyes and looked at the long-range Aetheric-Scanner. They weren't alone in the dark. Emerging from the shadow of the moon, and rising from the far side of the planet, were hundreds of other White Ships. They were of different shapes and sizes—some looked like floating cathedrals of glass, others like jagged shards of obsidian—but they all shared the same Architectural-Lineage. "Are those... survivors?" Mina asked, her voice trembling.

Deltas are a replacement of an Alpha's mate as long as he hasn't found her and she hasn't found hers. It makes sense now... of course Aquatic would have a Delta. They have to keep their pack strong, having no Luna would weaken them considerably. I want to turn away and go back to my room. Maybe I really should've just stayed in my room. I'm about to go back, but my feet has minds of their own. They follow the crowd and I hope with all of my heart that William won't sense me.

CORALINA'S POV Standing on the high northern parapet of the Frost-Hearth, the wind from the sea whipa my silver hair across my face in tangled, icy ribbons. Down in the bay, cutting through the thick grey fog of the coastal gates, a massive naval fleet rides the heavy swells. Nearly thirty iron-hulled warships, their pre-Pulse engines groaning with a low, mechanical growl that shatters the silence of the cliffs, sit anchored in our waters. They fly no pack banners—only the ragged, black-and-silver colors of the Western Coalition.

Vanessa, still reloading her rifle, snapped her head up, already alert. “What is it?” The screen flickered, displaying satellite footage of something massive rising from the depths of the ocean floor. Impossible. The Return of the Nightmare Rook’s voice crackled through the cockpit comms, strained but urgent: “We’ve got multiple signatures... coming up fast!” Through the storm-filled horizon, dark shapes emerged, pushing through the churning waves. A fleet of unmanned warships, their steel hulls gleaming, automated and deadly. At the center of the advancing armada...

Chapter 50: The Shadow Lord's Departure The harbor stretched before him like a promise of violence made manifest, its waters black as midnight beneath the pre-dawn sky. Forty-seven warships rode at anchor in formations that spoke of military precision and unlimited resources, their hulls gleaming with magical reinforcements that could deflect cannon fire and turn aside the most sophisticated naval magic. Each vessel flew the silver shadow of House Nox, but these weren't the modest coastal patrol ships his ancestors had maintained. These were instruments of conquest, designed to carry war across oceans and challenge powers that had never faced serious external threats.

Through her spyglass, the scene at the shipyards was a vision of absolute ruin. Three massive, copper-plated Draconian war-barges had bypassed the outer reef guards entirely, using the Dawn-Gild's leaked coordinates to slam their white-hot reptilian prows directly into the grand merchant vaults. The dry-docks where the secondary hull lines of the Royal Navy were being laid down were already ablaze, the seasoned northern pine timbers turning into lines of running charcoal under the pressure of the Saurian Janissaries' magma-weapons.