Overwatch Ships Novels & Stories

Tristan and Saoirse entered. The conversation stopped. Tristan walked to the head of the table. He wore a new coat—black leather reinforced with Aether-resistant lining, designed by Helena to dampen his emissions. He looked like a general. A very dangerous, very unstable general. "Report," Tristan said. "The fleet is fueled," Thorne said. "We have fifty ships combat-ready. Another twenty support vessels." "The Sovereign’s main cannon is online," Vane added. "Though we only have enough charge for three shots. After that, we’re throwing rocks."

In its place descended a shadow that blotted out the aurora borealis. It was the Fenrir’s Fang. I had seen Council warships before. They were sleek, corporate, efficient. This was not that. This was a floating cathedral of gunmetal and hate. It was shaped like a jagged spearhead, bristling with enough heavy ordnance to level a small continent. The engines hummed with a frequency that vibrated the fillings in my teeth. "That's not a ship," Ben Carter yelled, clutching his briefcase to his chest. "That is a capital asset depreciation nightmare! Do you know the fuel costs for hovering something that mass in atmosphere?"

The shadow-chains exploded from his wrists, ten times thicker and more lethal than before. "The wolf..." Dante whispered, looking at his hands. "He's... he's different. He’s bigger." "He’s a Void-Wolf now," I said, standing up and pulling him with me. "And we have a fleet to sink." "Zora, look," Sora said, pointing to the primary monitor. The Hegemony warships weren't just rotating their cannons anymore. They were launching "Titan-Class" drop-pods. Dozens of them. They were falling from the sky like black raindrops, aimed directly at the Shadow-District.

She didn’t want to see the end of the world, the dreams of wars and death haunted her. “So, tell me these dreams you've had?” Abey said walking to the window. “Well, I see war, lots of people die. I see you and me questioning what we've done or been through. I know we're supposed to have four people helping us. I doubt they either know about us, or they haven't found us.” Gabriela said playing with her shoelace. “Once they've found us, I think the demons will get our location too. I didn’t want to admit to this, but I dreamt we'll end up in Colorado for some reason,” she said with a sad face.

The wound on her face was bandaged, but her eyes were filled with terror. "How are the warriors?" Liam asked. "Bad," a subordinate reported. "Twelve have completely lost control. We had to use tranq guns. Another six are in the med-bay with high fevers." "Damn it!" Liam slammed his fist on the desk. "Alpha, should we contact Harper?" the subordinate suggested carefully. "Maybe she really has a solution—" "No!" Liam roared. "I will never bow to that traitor!" He stood up and paced the room.

However, even if they could not get their hands on Mia, it would be nice to have those beauties around her. Those people were also stunning. Of course, the first thing they needed to get rid of now was the Octagon in front of them. If they could get rid of David and the others, the beauties in front of them would be theirs. More than a dozen black-horned ships were parked not far away. They continued gathering energy as they could not give the Octagon a chance to disperse them. The black-horned ships were already a notch below the Octagon. If they were spread out, separate attacks from the black-horned ships would never be able to break the Octagon's defenses.

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.

“Isn’t your friend’s ship good enough?” “Yes and no,” Lucifer replied. “I was only really allowed to use it to break you out. More importantly, we can’t use it to hide or run with. It’s too... conspicuous. Every Peacekeeper’s gonna keep an eye out for it.” The two of them went up and down the shipyard and looked at the dozen or so ships on the landing pads. There weren’t too many to begin with, but certainly enough for them to choose through. More than half of them were single-seater craft, and were automatically out of the running.

The black ships hung in the air like heavy stones. Blue beams of light hit the streets of Lagos, turning buildings into dust and smoke. People below ran in every direction, but there was nowhere to go. The ships were everywhere, covering the sky like a lid on a pot. I looked at my right arm. The purple ink was moving fast, stretching across my skin like veins. It was forming a map of the city. Every time a ship prepared to fire, a red light pulsed on my arm. It was a warning system. The "Writer" was still part of me, even if I was in the real world now. She was feeding me data from the enemy’s network.

Some were green, like the banners of Haefest, others were gold, like the banners of Aeris, still others blue like those of Locrand and in the distance Doreon could also see some white and gray sails like Devian's sigil of arms. "Unbelievable, isn't it?" said Pix, leaning his back against the fence and his gaze towards the ocean. The light breeze ruffled his hair. Doreon, with his elbows resting on the fence, watched the men load huge wooden crates onto the docked ships. Pix was next to him, dividing them was the fence, while the lord breathed deeply. "It looks like a fleet too big for simple reconnaissance," Doreon commented as he looked at the ships.