The boats of the Accepted Pantheon Missionary Fleet were collected in the waters around the northern coast of Martes. While the entire fleet was not under the command of Vice Admiral Bruenor Flos, a number of vessels were. This fleet, temporarily assigned to relieve strain on the navy of Martes for the duration of the conflict with “still-unknown assailants”, was well equipped.

  Twenty gunboats patrolled the nearby waters. Their forms outfitted with light iron plating. High powered rifles were mounted on the bow, starboard and port in addition to light cannons.

  A dozen frigates, mostly made out of wood, still had sails attached. The missionary fleet had not yet fully converted to ironclads. These frigates composed the main skeleton of this portion of the missionary fleet. Their cannons were well maintained despite their age, and they each had a number of smaller guns mounted on them.

  Three ironclad cruisers. Massive vessels with guns much larger than those of the frigates, the ironclads were marvels of engineering. A single ironclad was worth a half dozen wooden frigates, or even more. They were faster, more durable, and their guns were able to make mincemeat out of a frigate in mere moments.

  The APM Disciplined, a hundred-meter-long ironclad ship with a displacement of thousands of tons. The flagship of the Vice Admiral, and his pride and joy. A full sailing rig was supplemented by a steam engine, allowing it to hit over fifteen knots. With 430 millimeters of teak, and a full centimeter of wrought iron plating, the ship was known far and wide as being one of the most dangerous vessels in the world. A total of thirty large guns were present on the ship, allowing it to take on entire small navies by itself.

  Tonight, the fleet was fully staffed, with thousands of sailors and soldiers in the waters around Martes. Many of them were Passengers, and each ship was helmed by a Chosen. Every single individual here answered to Bruenor, who was currently on the mainland leading an expedition.

  None of them saw a faint star in the sky bleed. Its light pooled into the dark waters a few nautical miles away from the fleet.

  …

  Fish started to bob up. At first one, then two, then dozens, then hundreds. Then the sharks floated to the surface. Then the whales. By the time all of the sailors made it to the tops of the decks, the entire ocean was filled with dead sea life of all kinds. No blood was present in the water; it was as if their life had simply ceased.

  …

  Only a few minutes later, the water stopped rippling. Not a wave was seen for over five minutes.

  …

  The lights, mostly gas lanterns, flitted about without any wind. Their flames, unstable despite mechanical and even magical attempts at stabilizing them, cast long, dark shadows on the sea of dead.

  …

  Clouds rolled in within another five minutes. Not storm clouds, though they were darker than any cloud formation any sailor there had ever seen.

  …

  Within another five minutes, the waters lapped at the ironclad hull of the APM Disciplined once again. The tens of thousands of fish bobbed and swayed in the rippling waters. Though they didn’t recognize it, every sailor silently held their breath each time they heard the once familiar splash of liquid attempting to penetrate the hulls of the fleet.

  …

  No plea for help was heard audibly. No radio transmission surfaced. No beams of light were seen from anywhere outside the missionary fleet, though this was the standard distress call for those in the missionary fleet.

  …

  The small boats sank first. The gunships, unable to even press forwards in some regions, were easy targets. One by one, the gas lanterns on the gunboats whiffed out in a strong, localized wind. They weren’t able to be lit again before the boats were dragged down from below. Three boats vanished before any sailors noticed, four before the fleet was at maximum readiness. A dozen were taken by the time the fleet started to fire wildly into the sea of churning corpses. Some of the shots hit the remains of those sailors who were on the gunboats, though it was too dark for anyone to notice.

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  …

  After the last gunboat had its light extinguished, an eerie calm fell on the sea. The spiritual perceptions of every Passenger and Chosen in the fleet were all set off at once, though no threat manifested. It was as if some presence, so large and ominous as to fill the entire sea, was getting closer.

  …

  The APM Vengeance, a wooden frigate with many years of service, had enough lanterns to keep itself in the light. This, unfortunately, allowed the crew to glimpse what lay below them.

  Without any warning, the APM Vengeance let loose all its cannons and rifles, aiming as close to directly under their ship as possible. The captain of the Vengeance, an experienced officer and a Chosen, gripped a ruby talisman tightly and prayed. Ruby light burst forth, briefly illuminating to the entire fleet what lay below.

  Through the thin gaps in between the dead marine life, sailors saw a grotesque, squid-like entity. A beak the size of a frigate lay positioned below the Vengeance, with row upon row of sharp teeth the size of a grown man. A single, vast tentacle outstretched from this maw, with serrated, pus-white growths superimposed overtop an otherwise slime covered appendage.

  Fins extended from the opposite end of the entity. Fleshy. Translucent. Blood could be seen coursing through veins. Like great wings, these fins spread themselves out underneath the entire missionary fleet. Such a thing went against all logical sense. No sea creature in the world could have evolved in such a way. And yet, it was here.

  The sight of it caused all of the normal sailors to collapse to the decks immediately, dead. Their eyes burnt out of their sockets in a flash heat event strong enough to send the smell of their eyes boiling wafting towards the other crew members.

  The Passengers fared little better. Though the ruby charm illuminated the beast only briefly, it was still enough time for many of them to convulse on the decks. Migraines literally split heads. Noses and ears bled, stomachs hurled up rations onto the decks or into the sea. Black ichor spilled out of mouths like saliva. Of the 8,900 sailors, soldiers, and Passengers in the missionary fleet stationed around Martes, less than 300 managed to avoid death. The few Chosen in the fleet mostly did manage to stay conscious, but it took a full minute for anyone present to be able to think clearly.

  The Vengeance went down within that minute.

  …

  Prayers rang out, loud, coarse, rough. Some crying, some pleading, some demanding. Not all the sailors prayed, of course. Some were silent. Only about two thirds were capable of the cognitive processes required to organize their thoughts, and half of that number was either physically paralyzed with fear or simply knew that prayer would not possibly serve them here.

  In the next minute, another frigate was dragged below the waves.

  …

  After the fifth frigate, the fleet started to extinguish their lanterns willingly.

  …

  After the tenth frigate, the fleet mostly gave up shooting.

  …

  After the first ironclad, the fleet mostly gave up praying.

  …

  The APM Disciplined was the pride of the missionary fleet. Of all of the various battleships the missionary fleet had at its disposal, the Disciplined was the second largest, had the most guns, and was the second fastest. It had taken years to build and served as the personal flagship of Vice Admiral Bruenor Flos.

  In the interim as Flos was on the mainland, command of the fleet fell to Captain Naerhn. Unfortunately, as Captain Naerhn had been recently killed, this responsibility fell to Captain Verrast. Verrast, a capable Chosen in his own right, had given up praying at around the same time as the last ironclad disappeared under the waves nearby.

  The Disciplined was on its own.

  …

  At some point after the Disciplined sank, the fleet was written off as MIA. There were no witnesses and no survivors. Were it not for the timely request of Juhend Sureb, Breunor Flos would have been on the Disciplined that night.

  …

  In the skies above the waters surrounding Martes, where a fleet of warships had disappeared, an immaculately dressed man with a wolf-head cane sighed. Juhend Sureb knew he wouldn’t make it in time to save the fleet- his divination told him so. And yet, the demigod was panting and sweating, for he had just forcefully Shifted himself to the Physical World and flew under his own powers all the way from Diell City to Martes. The distance was 3,305 kilometers and he managed it in fifty-nine minutes.

  …

  Unfortunately, the Disciplined had been dragged under the waves after fifty-eight minutes had passed.

  …

  There was a 37% uptick in violent crime across the planet the night the fleet around Martes went missing.