Secret World: I Became a God Through Lies

Chapter 95: Iron and Blood Oath: Alison's Reunion with the Terrian Navy

"When glory is taken away, the only thing that can prove me is the battlefield."

The first glimmer of dawn penetrated the mist of the Whale Grave Port, and the sea breeze carried a salty and humid smell.
The wind blew across the neatly arranged ropes on the deck, causing the sails to tremble slightly, bringing a sense of silence and solemnity.

Alison got up early as usual. She stood on the deck of the Lost, her eyes sharp and focused.
She checked the strength of the cables, the condition of the sails, and the wear and tear of the hull one by one. Her movements were extremely precise.
Every detail was taken care of with military-like rigor and professionalism.

This is not only her habit, but also her responsibility.

The Lost One was anchored in the harbor of the Whale Grave, surrounded by exiles, gamblers and desperadoes.

This was not a trustworthy place, and she had to make sure the ship was ready to sail at any time.
Ready to fight at any time, whether to escape or to fight.

On the other side of the deck, Lilia stood by the observation deck, squinting her eyes slightly in the sea breeze, with a faint smile on the corner of her mouth.

She looked beyond the harbor and into the distance, a hint of inquiry glimmering in her eyes.

"Good morning, Alison," she said softly, her tone gentle.

Alison turned around, her eyes still as cold as usual, but the moment she saw Lilia,
His expression softened a little, and his tone slowed down a bit: "Good morning, Lilia."

Lilia raised her hand and pointed towards the distant port, her voice filled with curiosity: "Look, it seems to be even busier today than yesterday."

Alison looked where she was directed.

A new ship slowly entered the Whale Mouth Channel of the Whale Tomb.

The ships had tall masts, huge hulls, and heavily armored soldiers standing on their decks.

Their formation was neat and imposing, with an oppressive feeling that could not be ignored.

The familiar flag fluttered in the wind, with a golden sea serpent coiling on the dark blue background, symbolizing the majesty and power of the empire.

Terrian Royal Navy.

Alison's face instantly darkened, and her fingertips tightened almost unconsciously.

The wind passed through her hair, bringing with it a bit of a chill. Her eyes were like blades, staring at the approaching fleet in silence.

She was very familiar with this fleet.

Those ships were once her comrades, but now they are her pursuers.

"Blood Whale Sea Battle."

This was the most glorious battle of the Imperial Navy, but it was also the end of Alison.

A decisive war broke out between the Empire and the "Western Combined Fleet".

The enemy fleet had an absolute advantage in numbers, but the Empire's main fleet failed to arrive at the battlefield on time due to logistical errors, and the situation was precarious.

"We must delay them, otherwise the Imperial fleet will be destroyed before it arrives." Alison stood on the command platform with a firm look.

She personally led the "Judgment" and five frigates to fight against the enemy's vanguard.

Use a small fleet to hold back the enemy and buy time for the main fleet.

Artillery fire burned in the night, the storm swept the roaring waves, and the enemy ships' firepower suppression poured down like a rainstorm.

But Allison's fleet was like an isolated island in the flames, resisting all of this.

They fought for two whole days and nights, facing an enemy five times their number, and refused to retreat.

Ultimately, they created a 6 to 30 casualty ratio that shocked the world of Thousand Seas Gate, allowing the Imperial Fleet to successfully encircle the enemy and achieve ultimate victory.

When the last round of bombardment ended, on the bloody sea,
All that was floating around were broken wrecks and the sunken dead.

Her fleet was utterly destroyed, her soldiers fought in bloody battles, their corpses sank to the bottom of the sea, but she survived.

She was supposed to be the empire's god of war and a symbol of victory.

However, when she returned to the imperial capital, what she was waiting for was not a medal of honor, but a verdict.

The marble floor of the Imperial Navy High Court was as cold as ice. Alison Griffith stood in the center, her posture straight.
As if she was still a commander on a warship, not a criminal on trial. Golden sunlight streamed through the high windows.

But it could not warm up the dull hall, nor could it melt the indifference and hostility in the eyes of the group of senior naval officers sitting behind the long table.

"Alison Griffith, you provoked a battle without orders, resulting in heavy losses to the fleet. Do you admit your guilt?"

The presiding judge's voice echoed in the empty courtroom, every syllable carrying a commanding authority.

Her eyes swept over the elegantly dressed officers—her former colleagues, now her judges.

They sat upright on the judgment seat, wearing gold-studded uniforms and medals of honor, and the glory of these medals still came from the victories she had fought for on the battlefield.

Yet, here she stood, awaiting their verdict. Was she guilty? What was her crime? Leading her soldiers to victory on the battlefield?
Did she use her tactics to compensate for the Imperial Fleet's mistakes, saving countless lives? Or was her true "crime" the disgrace she caused to certain people?
She knew only too well that her success threatened some, especially generals who were higher in rank and more experienced than she, but who had never achieved such a glorious victory.

They could not accept that a woman of common origin could lead the fleet to break the enemy blockade and achieve a decisive victory in desperate circumstances, and they could not tolerate that her prestige in the hearts of the soldiers exceeded theirs.

But what they could accept was letting her become a victim.

"Alison Griffiths, you ignored military orders and provoked a battle without authorization, causing heavy losses to the fleet. The Royal Navy was forced to take action against you."

Another judge said coldly, his voice revealing an unquestionable decision.

The iron rules of military law are nothing more than a game of interests here.

Her military achievements were stripped away, her fleet number was erased, and the soldiers who had fought alongside her were "laid off."

Their pensions were cut, their families received no compensation, disabled soldiers were forced to retire, and even the last allowances were embezzled by high-ranking officials.

Former warriors have become street beggars, while their families struggle to survive in slums.

Her anger burned in her chest, burning calmly and silently.

She broke into the naval headquarters with a list of her subordinates and demanded that the military pay the pensions that the soldiers deserved.

She thought they would feel a little guilty, even a little bit...but she was wrong.

Her request was rejected and her anger was seen as a defiance of naval authority.

"You are no longer qualified to command anyone, Griffith." Those former superiors said coldly.
"Your achievements are gone. Your soldiers? They are nothing more than abandoned pawns of war. The Empire has no obligation to pay for a bunch of useless losers."

She was expelled from the military, with only a sword, a battle robe, and her unbroken faith left on her.

So, she became a pirate.

But she wasn't doing it for the gold, she was doing it for her soldiers.

She wants to use her own way to win back the glory and dignity that those warriors abandoned by the empire deserve.

The royal battleship slowly sailed into the Whale Tomb port, like a giant beast covered in golden armor, its steel hull breaking through the steady waves in the sea.

The golden double-headed eagle inlaid on the bow of the ship sparkled in the morning light, and the cannons were arranged neatly, exuding a sinister aura of oppression.

Alison stood on the deck of the Lost, her gaze like a blade, piercing through the crowd, and finally stopping at two figures on the distant deck—

Lieutenant General Lennox Flemington, Major General Edmund Howard.

Her enemies.

She slowly clenched her fists, her knuckles turning white, and every nerve in her body tensed.

Lennox saw her too.

A sarcastic smile appeared on the corner of his mouth, and then he whispered to Edmund:
"Look who that is? The lost lamb." His voice was not loud, but loud enough for her to hear.

Edmund pushed his monocle up his nose, his usual sneer playing on his lips. "How pitiful! The former commander of the Royal Navy has now become a lackey of pirates."

He spoke with the same contempt they had used when they had condemned her at the trial.

They made no secret of their ridicule and contempt. They believed that she had become a complete outcast of the empire and that she was powerless to resist.

They expected her to be angry, to argue, to rant...but she didn't.

She just stood there, watching them quietly.

Her eyes were as cold as a knife, sharp as a knife, piercing their throats.

She didn't need to argue or get angry, because she knew that this account would be settled sooner or later.

The royal warship slowly sailed past the Lost, its golden double-headed eagle emblem glaring mockingly in the sunlight, while Alison simply stood on the deck and watched it go away.

Her eyes were still cold, but what was hidden deep within them was no longer anger, but an extreme coldness.

This was not an impulsive desire for revenge, but the precise judgment of a tactician.

She would not fall into their trap in anger, nor would she be driven to rash action by provocation—she sought not momentary gratification but utter destruction.

She wants them to pay the price.

The undercurrent of the Whale Grave is surging, and the old accounts between Alison and the Trian Navy will finally be settled here.

Please read, follow, collect, and vote. Also, there's a monthly package of ten, also sent out around 12:00 PM. Good luck everyone.



(End of this chapter)