The stretch of Ink Sea where the four-ship squad is located is boiling.
Deafening heavy-metal music thunders across the waters; for dozens of miles the sea surface rolls as if it's being brought to a furious boil.
The source of the noise is Alaska, clutching a pink electric guitar. With headphones on and pink hair thrashing, she rakes the strings wildly, completely lost in her own world.
Beside her, two speaker-towers about waist-high hold huge horns and emit nearly tangible sonic blasts.
This is Alaska's attack method: area sonic strikes.
They're deadlier than most magic, because such sound can't be defended against by ordinary supernatural means. They far exceed normal ultrasonic or infrasonic effects because they're generated by a hundred-level shipgirl.
Where those sonic waves pass, Abyssal shipgirls reel, grow dizzy, retch; the worst drop to their knees on the water and lose combat effectiveness.
At that moment the speaker-towers fire a timely "shell" — a blast that detonates the sonic field for miles, producing instant, massive casualties.
The earlier sonic wave is like a poured sheet of burning oil, detonated by that blast.
It's a spectacular scene; the only pity is the sonic cannons don't have colors, otherwise the battlefield would be a kaleidoscope.
But the tactical picture is not good.
From above, hundreds of thousands of Abyssal forces surround the four-ship team. No matter how strong Alaska's area attack, it can only reliably stop Abyssals below about level 80.
Abyssals above level 80 merely sparkle with insignia and keep pushing forward.
St. George fires a broadside and knocks back a charging Abyssal battleship, then looks up to see a swarm of wing-shaped aerial bombs screaming down. Her expression changes; she bends to shield Deutschland and Blücher.
The two younger girls don't show fear. Deutschland's side guns bark; she wields a gauntlet and drives out sword-waves—token defenses, but better than nothing. Blücher hefts an iron anchor and stares up at the incoming carrier planes, eager to match strength with them.
Judging by her expression, she seems ready to try trading blows with aircraft using an anchor.
St. George's face grows very serious; she lets loose a wild volley in all directions and shouts, "They want to use us as bait!"
Alaska opens her eyes, irritable. "Captain Obvious — I know that!"
At this point, even a fool can see the Abyssal flagships are toying with them, like cats playing with mice that can't escape their claws.
When the squad struck out, they hadn't considered anti-air or anti-submarine. Anti-submarine here boils down to dodging; anti-air to sheer hard resistance. If the Abyssals choose to send a torpedo group supported by aerial bombardment, the little squad would be shredded with no chance to strike back.
If the Abyssals do that, Alaska and St. George might only be able to dance around for a bit on raw talent; Deutschland and Blücher would likely be gone in moments.
The Abyssals aren't stupid — they left this four-ship team precisely to fish for a big prize.
Realizing they've been made bait makes Alaska furious.
St. George is equally resolute. "I'm not here to be dead weight. I'll cover the rear — Alaska, you take them and go!"
She intends to make a heroic stand rather than let the enemy get its way.
"You idiot — and you expect to die all on your own?" Alaska glares with contempt. "Right now the only thing we can do is pray Hikaru's shipgirls show up and pull us out. Otherwise we won't even get to die properly!"
Deutschland puffs out her small round face and says seriously, "Don't worry about me or Blücher. Just go!"
Shipgirls aren't cowards; Deutschland—named after a proud nation in history—has courage to spare. Still, the little battlecruiser carrying a huge sack of "local specialties" makes the heroic moment somewhat farcical.
Alaska is about to blow. "How many times do I have to tell you to drop that stuff?!"
"They took forever to make—no way I'm throwing them away!"
Blücher narrows her eyes. "New carrier wave approaching—watch me shoot them down!"
Her action catches St. George off guard. In a flash, Blücher slips out of cover and charges at the distant carrier squadron in a death rush.
Blücher is reckless and arrogant, and this charge clearly means she's decided to give up her life.
In the distance, the storm front bears down—finally, the Abyssal flagships are going to finish them.
"That idiot—if she's going to die, we'll die together!"
[End of Chapter]
[100 Power Stones = Extra Chapter]
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