Alaska cursed and shoved Deutschland toward St. George, shouting,"Take her and break through!"
Then she flung her pink guitar aside, grabbed the two massive sound cannons, and hurled them like shot puts straight into the incoming swarm of aircraft.
The next moment, Alaska stomped down on the sea's surface, blasting it apart as she charged headlong into the storm toward the Abyssal flagships.
St. George clutched Deutschland's arm, wiping rain from her face. "These two idiots!"
As the sound cannons self-detonated inside the enemy formation, tens of thousands of Abyssal aircraft were shredded, scattering in flames and falling into the waves. Watching this, Abyssal Yamato curled her lips into a scornful smile.
As an Abyssal, nothing thrilled her more than seeing prey fight back in desperation—watching the trapped beasts thrash about before death. The more scenes of sacrifice, separation, and tragedy, the more satisfying it was.
She turned to Abyssal Zumwalt and ordered, "You take half the force and deal with that St. George. I'll handle this noise-maker myself. I'll show these insolent wretches what real power is."
Behind them, Abyssal carrier-launched bombs tore the sea apart. Blücher's mind went blank—she just hefted her iron anchor and charged forward.
A thunderous blast came straight at her. Blücher hastily raised her anchor to block, but the explosion shattered it into pieces with a single strike.
That anchor was her strongest and primary piece of equipment, the core of her close-combat fighting style.
In other words—she was shattered in one blow!
The sheer power of her foe was unimaginable.
So this… this was the might of an Abyssal flagship?
And that had only been a "warning shot." If it had been a full broadside…
Blücher collapsed onto the surface of the sea, trembling all over.
None of the surrounding Abyssal vessels attacked her further. She was prey now—reserved for their flagship.
Abyssal Yamato advanced through the storm, closing within just a few nautical miles. Several subordinate flagships followed in her wake.
"Trash!"
She spat the word out in contempt, training her heavy guns directly on the defenseless Blücher. A full salvo roared to life.
Sometimes, shipgirl combat retained the old truths of naval warfare: big ships beat small ships, more guns beat fewer.
Abyssal Yamato's level, equipment, and stats all outclassed Blücher by a gulf beyond measure. Before her, Blücher was nothing but a lamb led to slaughter.
Shellfire streaked toward her. Blücher's mind went cold. Was this really the end?
No.
She refused to submit.
Grabbing a shard of her broken anchor, she raised it high to hurl at the incoming barrage.
Boom!
From the waves exploding behind her, a pink-haired shipgirl burst forth, riding the spray.
With a motion like a tennis swing, Alaska gripped her guitar by its long neck, twisted her waist, and smashed the incoming shell apart.
She kicked Blücher out of the line of fire. "Head south! Run as far as you can—now!"
Her guitar was already twisted from the impact, her sound cannons destroyed earlier in the aircraft barrage. Alaska was as battered as Blücher, but she still stood tall.
"You're not getting away!"
Abyssal Yamato laughed madly and raised her arm. "Full broadside!"
Behind her, the lesser Abyssal flagships all manifested their cannons, unleashing a wall of fire aimed squarely at Alaska.
The storm winds howled, scattering smoke and flame.
When the barrage cleared, St. George stood before Alaska, arms spread wide.
The salvo had nearly ripped her in half, shattering her armor to pieces.
Her breath came faint and ragged. "I never… owe favors."
"How wonderfully melodramatic—and I love it," Abyssal Yamato sneered, gesturing to halt the barrage. "Shall I give you time to share your touching goodbyes?"
For Abyssals, nothing was more delicious than watching noble emotions—loyalty, sacrifice, love—dragged into the mud and crushed beneath their feet.
Death ended all things.
Yamato trembled with excitement, drunk on the prospect of torment. Watching others' final moments of despair let her forget her own humiliation from fleeing battle days before.
Yes—this was the fate of fools who dared defy her.
But then a piercing cry shattered her triumph.
"Air raid!"
Zumwalt's voice screamed across the storm.
Yamato jerked her head upward, pupils shrinking to pinpoints.
Hundreds of rainbow-trailing carrier aircraft ripped through the thunderclouds, diving straight down and unloading their bombs.
These were 110-level elite carriers—hero-class aircraft unleashing six-star ordnance.
[End of Chapter]
[100 Power Stones = Extra Chapter]
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