Chapter 52: Carrier Strike Group

"Wait here for a moment, Elenore," John said, turning toward the command exit. "I have one more critical deployment to oversee before we head to the mainland."

"Understood," Elenore replied politely, watching with wide, curious eyes as he and Captain Hayes stepped out of the command center.

John and Hayes took an open-topped military humvee down the freshly paved service roads, cutting across the southern sector of the base toward the newly expanded naval base. The morning sun was climbing higher, casting a sharp, golden glint across the sparkling deep blue waters of the bay.

As the vehicle crested the final coastal ridge, the sheer scale of the automated expansion came into full view.

What had been a modest coastline just an hour prior was now a monumental deep-water naval facility. Enormous concrete piers stretched hundreds of yards out into the dredged channels. Massive automated container cranes stood like towering steel sentinels along the docks, backed by sprawling reinforced fuel storage farms, dry docks, and shore-to-ship power lines. The single Arleigh Burke-class destroyer and the patrol craft currently moored along the outer pier looked dwarfed by the sheer capacity of the empty berths.

John hopped out of the vehicle, walking up to the edge of the central wharf with his hands on his hips. The cool ocean breeze carried the scent of brine and fresh asphalt.

"The foundation is ready," John murmured, opening the tactical interface in his mind. "Time to fill these berths."

With 80 open hull slots and a massive stockpile of souls gathered from the destruction of the Solarian invasion force, he didn’t intend to build a modest coast guard. If the Holy Solarian Empire planned to sail an armada across the Endless Azure Ocean, John would meet them with the undisputed pinnacle of maritime power: a full modern Carrier Strike Group (CSG) reinforced with an Amphibious Ready Group.

He visualized the fleet structure, allocating his available slots:

[NAVAL FORCES EXPANSION - CSG & ESG COMPOSITION]

Gerald R. Ford-Class Nuclear Aircraft Carrier (CVN-78) x 1 Ticonderoga-Class Guided-Missile Cruiser x 1 Arleigh Burke-Class Flight III Guided-Missile Destroyers x 2 Virginia-Class Fast-Attack Nuclear Submarine (Block V) x 1 America-Class Amphibious Assault Ship (LHA-6) x 1 Supply-Class Fast Combat Support Ship (T-AOE) x 1

[Confirm Summoning? Y/N]

Confirm, John commanded.

A low, resonant acoustic shockwave swept outward across the harbor. The water inside the dredged basin surged as thick white mist erupted along the length of the deep-water piers.

The spiritual energy drained, and in the next instant, cold reality materialized.

Emerging from the mist, the colossal silhouette of the USS Gerald R. Ford filled the main channel. Stretching over a thousand feet in length and displacing over a hundred thousand tons of steel, its towering island superstructure, angled flight deck, and electromagnetic catapults cast a massive shadow across the harbor. Parked tightly along its vast flight deck and inside the hangar bays were rows of F-35C stealth fighters, Super Hornets, and Hawkeye early-warning aircraft with folded wings.

Beside the supercarrier, the sleek, bristling gray hull of the Ticonderoga-class cruiser and two additional Arleigh Burke-class destroyers locked into their berths, their phased-array radar faces catching the morning light.

Across the opposite basin, the formidable America-class amphibious assault ship settled into its mooring, its flat deck laden with MV-22B Osprey tiltrotors and venomous attack helicopters. Out in the deep channel, the dark, rounded dorsal fin of another nuclear attack submarine cut through the water before idling near the reef line.

Thousands of newly manifested US Navy sailors, flight deck crews in color-coded jerseys, bridge officers, and naval aviators appeared at their stations across the ships. Boatswain whistles echoed over the intercoms, diesel auxiliary generators hummed to life, and the American ensigns were hoisted up the mainmasts in crisp unison.

Captain Hayes stood beside John, looking out at the armada of gray hulls with awe.

"Now that," Hayes murmured, adjusting his glasses against the glare, "is maritime dominance."

Even though John had already admitted how ridiculously overpowered his system was just minutes ago, he still stood frozen in genuine disbelief.

Reading menus was completely different from watching reality bend firsthand. Seeing over one hundred thousand tons of nuclear-powered steel, pristine angled flight decks, and full squadrons of modern stealth fighters spawn from nothing was truly absurd.

The massive USS Gerald R. Ford dominated the entire waterway, towering over the pier like an impenetrable fortress. Electromagnetic catapult tests hissed along the flight line, ensigns snapped in the wind, and disciplined commands from newly arrived crews echoed across the harbor.

"I knew this cheat was broken," John muttered, shaking his head with a dry laugh. "Terraforming an entire harbor was insane, but summoning a full carrier strike group in a second? It’s downright unfair."

"Unfair to them, sir," Hayes replied with a smirk, eyeing the loaded missile cells. "The Solarian Empire won’t stand a chance."

"Hmm, still we can’t be too complacent. There is a reason why I have this system. There might be forces in this world that are too powerful that would require the entire US armed force to defeat. We witnessed the capability of Sato..."

"Understood, sir," Hayes said, his demeanor turning serious. "High-tier magical threats will require combined-arms doctrine. Stand-off precision strikes, early detection, and overwhelming firepower before they ever get within spellcasting range."

"Exactly. That’s why we never fight fair," John said, turning back toward the idling humvee. "Let’s get back to the flight line. We have a settlement to rebuild."

They climbed into the vehicle, and the driver sped along the coastal road back toward the main installation.

Back at the primary command sector, Elenore was waiting near the briefing room under the watchful eye of the security detail. She had been fitted with an olive-drab tactical plate carrier and a lightweight comms headset. Her pointed ears poked through the headgear, twitching slightly as she adjusted to the unfamiliar gear.

"All set, Elenore?" John asked as he walked in.

"Yes, Commander," she said, standing straight. "The guards assisted me with these... protective garments. It feels surprisingly light for armor."

"Kevlar and ceramic plates," John smiled. "Lightweight, but it stops high-velocity projectiles. Let’s move."

John, Hayes, Elenore, and Sergeant First Class Ritcher walked out onto the sunlit tarmac toward the flight line. Further down the runway, several LCU landing craft were already departing the harbor loaded with prefabricated bunker modules, medical crates, and engineering tractors.

At Helipad Alpha, the black MH-60M Black Hawk sat ready, its main rotors idling with a deep, rhythmic thrum.

Elenore paused slightly as the downdraft ruffled her hair and jacket, staring at the aircraft with renewed reverence.

"Watch your step," Ritcher said kindly, offering her a steady hand as they climbed into the cabin.

Elenore settled onto the reinforced bench seat next to John. Ritcher clicked her four-point harness securely into place and adjusted her headset volume before sliding the heavy cabin door shut.

"Let’s go!"