Reincarnated with a Country Creation System

The atmosphere aboard the RNS Sovereign, flagship of the Ruthenian fleet, was thick with tension. The previous night's confrontation had been a disaster. Admiral Artyom Volkov stood rigid at the center of the command room, his usually calm demeanor now a mask of barely restrained fury. The once-proud Ruthenian fleet was bleeding, and every fresh report brought with it the weight of yet another failure.

"Admiral, we've received the latest update from Captain Voronov of the Moskva," Captain Alexei Leonov announced, his voice uncharacteristically subdued as he handed over the hastily scrawled report. "Two of our submarines, the Belgorod and Kazimir, have been confirmed lost. The Moskva sustained critical damage and is retreating for emergency repairs."

Volkov's grip on the report tightened, his knuckles turning white. He didn't need to read the words to know the content. Another blow to their pride, another victory for the Valorians. The Valorian submarines had managed to slip through their defenses, dealing devastating blows to Ruthenia's might. And now, with two of his own submarines sunk, it was becoming harder to hide the truth.

"How many more losses can we afford, Admiral?" Captain Leonov ventured, his voice cautious. "If we continue like this—"

"Enough!" Volkov's voice lashed out like a whip, silencing the murmurs around him. "Do you think I'm not aware of the situation? Do you think I don't understand what's at stake?"

The room fell silent, the officers exchanging uneasy glances. Volkov knew that the Tsar would not tolerate another failure. Tsar Ivan's expectations were clear: Ruthenia was to dominate the South Atlantic, crush the Valorian forces, and prove the empire's strength. But so far, it had been one humiliating defeat after another. If he reported this latest loss, it could mean the end of his career—or worse.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Volkov's eyes flicked toward the large map of the South Atlantic pinned to the wall. Red markers represented his fleet's current position, while black ones indicated where they believed the Valorian submarines had attacked. He could not return to the Tsar with more bad news. No, he had to turn this disaster around.

"Captain Leonov," Volkov said, "we cannot afford to show weakness. If word of this loss reaches Volkshalle, they'll think they have the upper hand. I refuse to let Valoria think they've beaten us."

"But, Admiral, the losses—" Leonov began, only to be cut off again.

"Send a coded message to our remaining submarines," Volkov commanded, his eyes burning with desperate determination. "Order them to continue the hunt. I don't care how many resources it takes; I want every Valorian submarine sunk. I will not return to the Tsar with news of failure."

Leonov hesitated, but he knew better than to argue further. "Yes, Admiral," he replied, turning to relay the orders.

The Ruthenian fleet regrouped, their battered ships now turning their attention back to the hunt. Despite their losses, they were determined to find and destroy the Valorian submarines that had humiliated them. Destroyers and patrol ships fanned out in a wide arc, their sonar operators on high alert, listening for the faintest sign of enemy movement. Stay updated via empire

Onboard the VNS Sea Serpent, Captain Marcus Renner and his crew were still celebrating their narrow escape. The submarine had evaded destruction, slipping into the depths like a ghost. But they knew the danger wasn't over. The Ruthenians were relentless, and Renner could sense they wouldn't stop until they had exacted their revenge.

"Captain," Lieutenant Steiner whispered urgently, his eyes glued to the sonar screen, "I'm picking up multiple contacts. They're closing in fast."

Renner's expression darkened. "Damn it. They're not giving up, are they? Rig for silent running again. We'll need to lose them in the deeper waters."

The Sea Serpent reduced its speed once more, sinking into the dark abyss, the crew praying that they could remain undetected. But this time, the Ruthenians were prepared.

Onboard the RNS Belgorod's sister ship, the RNS Falcon, Captain Yuri Makarov had received Volkov's desperate orders. The Valorians had made fools of them, but this time, they were ready. The sonar operator's eyes lit up as he detected a faint signature.

"Captain, I've got something. It's faint, but it's consistent with a Valorian submarine. Depth, 300 meters," the sonar operator reported.

"Launch sonar buoys," Makarov ordered. "I want their exact position. We won't lose them this time."

As the buoys were dropped, the ocean lit up with active sonar pings. The Sea Serpent's hull shuddered as the sound waves bounced off its exterior.

"Captain, they've found us!" Steiner yelled.

Renner cursed under his breath. "All ahead flank! Evasive maneuvers!" But it was too late. The sonar pings had given the Ruthenians a perfect target.

"Fire torpedoes, tubes one through four!" Makarov barked. The torpedoes shot out from the RNS Falcon, their deadly payloads homing in on the Sea Serpent.

"Brace for impact!" Renner shouted, gripping the console as the first torpedo struck the aft section of the submarine. The explosion rocked the vessel, sending crew members sprawling.

"Captain, we've lost propulsion!" Lieutenant Navarro cried, panic in her voice. "We're taking on water!"

Renner's face was grim. "Seal the compartments! Prepare to surface. We'll have to abandon ship."

But the Ruthenians were not done. A second torpedo struck, and this time, the Sea Serpent's hull buckled under the pressure. As water rushed in, Captain Renner knew they were finished.

"Abandon ship!" he ordered. "All hands, get to the escape hatches!"

The once-proud VNS Sea Serpent, which had eluded Ruthenia's might just hours ago, now sank slowly into the depths, its crew desperately scrambling to reach the surface.

Onboard the RNS Falcon, Captain Makarov watched with a cold satisfaction as the last blips on the sonar disappeared. "Send a message to Admiral Volkov," he said quietly. "Let him know the Valorian submarine is destroyed."

As the South Atlantic waves claimed the Sea Serpent, Admiral Volkov finally allowed himself a moment of relief. His desperate gamble had paid off—for now. But as he stared out at the churning waters, he knew that this was only a temporary reprieve. The real challenge was still to come, and his career, his very life, depended on the next battle.

"Valoria may have drawn first blood," he muttered to himself, "but Ruthenia will deliver the final blow."