Yuuki didn't look away from the forward display.
Dozens of contacts.
Encirclement confirmed.
No escape vector—
And yet—
He smiled.
Calm. Certain.
"Illy," he said, voice cutting clean through the noise. "Activate targeting HUD."
A brief flicker on the comms.
Above, Illustrious's head is surrounded with targeting interface. A feature even she was surprised seeing.
"…Done."
"Select option—Nanoswarm Protocol."
There was a half-second pause.
Then—
Above the ocean, the ekranoplane pulsed.
A shimmering field burst outward—not a static shield, but a living one. Billions of microscopic constructs spread across its surface, forming a dynamic dome that adapted to incoming fire.
The crystal shield stabilized.
Then—
Reversed.
"Shield integrity… it's rising!" Atago called out in disbelief.
"What is this system…?" Takao added, eyes fixed on her readouts.
Yuuki didn't slow.
"Next—activate F-SPAR."
"F… SPAR…?"
"Steel Dragon Protocol," Yuuki clarified. "Do it."
Above, the ekranoplane responded.
The main turret shifted.
Panels folded inward, components reconfiguring with mechanical precision. The familiar pulse railgun assembly collapsed—
Reforming into something heavier.
Singular.
Focused.
A single cannon.
Large.
Unmistakably lethal.
"Weapon system… transformed…" Illustrious whispered.
Yuuki's eyes flicked to the data feed.
"Do you see three charge bars on your HUD?"
"Yes… I see them."
"Prime the red buttons on the helm," Yuuki said. "Press both. At the same time."
A breath.
Then—
"Understood."
Illustrious pressed both controls.
The response was immediate.
The charge bars surged upward—filling rapidly.
Above the craft, the F-SPAR cannon began to hum.
Not loudly—
But deeply.
A sound that carried weight.
Power condensed into a single point, energy spiraling inward as the weapon built charge.
The Sirens noticed.
They adjusted formation.
Focused fire.
Everything they had—
Turned toward that cannon.
But the nanoswarm shield adapted in real time, reinforcing impact zones, dispersing energy, absorbing damage, holding.
"They're trying to interrupt the charge!" Atago warned.
"They won't," Yuuki said simply.
The charge peaked.
"Targeting HUD syncs with your eyes," Yuuki continued. "Lock onto the battleship in front of you."
Illustrious inhaled slowly.
The reticle followed her gaze.
Locked.
The largest Siren battleship—directly ahead.
Both charge bars—
Full.
"Lord commander! It's fully charged!"
Yuuki's voice dropped slightly.
"Fire."
There was no hesitation.
"Firing."
The cannon discharged.
No roar.
No explosion.
Just—
A beam.
Compressed.
Absolute.
It crossed the distance instantly.
The Siren battleship exploded.
Its structure unraveled under the impact, hull disintegrating in a clean, devastating line before collapsing into fragments that scattered across the ocean.
Gone.
In a single shot.
Silence followed—
Just for a moment.
Then—
Enterprise stared at the feed, eyes narrowing.
"…That was one shot."
Belfast's voice was quieter. "…One shot just took down a battleship."
Yorktown exhaled slowly. "…How powerful is that cannon?"
Akashi was entirely excited like the Bulins.
Yuuki leaned back slightly, still watching the battlefield.
The faint smile remained.
"Yeah."
His tone was calm.
Controlled.
"Now they know."
Above—
The Siren formation faltered.
For the first time—
They hesitated.
Yuuki didn't give them time to process.
"Charge again," he ordered.
Above, the F-SPAR cannon responded instantly—its core reigniting, energy spiraling inward for a second strike.
Illustrious steadied her breath, hands firm on the controls.
"Full power."
The charge bars surged.
Faster this time.
"Target another ship," Yuuki continued. "Don't hesitate."
A beat—
"Fire."
The second shot lanced across the battlefield.
Another Siren vessel—
Exploded.
Erased from existence.
Static rippled across the comms.
"Lord Commander… this weapon…" Illustrious's voice wavered—not from fear, but awe. "It's far beyond anything we've used before."
Yuuki's tone remained even.
"Don't get distracted."
A pause.
Then he explained—fast, precise.
"The Nanoswarm Protocol is feeding you that power. It converts incoming damage into usable energy and pulls ionized particles from the environment."
Below, even inside the Phobocaster, the system data reflected it—energy cycling, amplifying, stabilizing.
"The F-SPAR only works while that protocol is active," Yuuki continued. "You've got two minutes. After that, the swarm collapses back into standby."
A slight pause.
"And it takes a full day to recharge."
Silence.
Then understanding.
"…So every shot matters."
"Exactly."
Yuuki's eyes sharpened.
"Now—Atago."
There was a delay.
She hadn't moved.
"…Atago."
"Hai—! Shikikan-sama!"
She snapped back into focus.
"Activate Overload Protocol. Push your railguns and pulse cannons to maximum output."
"Overload… engaged!"
Weapon systems flared.
Railguns hummed louder.
Pulse cannons intensified—energy output spiking beyond standard thresholds.
"Now go loud."
Above, the ekranoplane erupted in firepower.
"Takao."
"Yes."
"Activate Big Bang Protocol. All torpedoes—maximum yield. No conservation."
A brief pause.
Then—
"Understood. Big Bang Protocol… active."
Below the surface, torpedo systems surged with power, warheads charging far beyond normal parameters.
Yuuki leaned forward slightly.
"When the Nanoswarm drops, everything returns to normal."
A beat.
Then—
His voice shifted.
Not calm.
Not neutral.
Command.
"Girls."
Inside the ekranoplane, all three focused.
"I told you to escape."
A pause.
"Belay that order."
Silence.
Then—
"I'm giving you a reckless one."
Another beat.
"Destroy the entire fleet."
No hesitation came back this time.
"Yes!"
All three.
In unison.
Yuuki's faint smile returned.
"Good."
His eyes remained locked on the battlefield feed.
"Then make those two minutes count."
Above—
The ekranoplane surged forward again.
This time—
Not breaking through.
But breaking everything in its path.
=================
Yuuki's hands moved fluidly across the controls, the Phobocaster responding like an extension of his will as it cut through the tightening formation.
"Enty. Bel. Hana."
All three answered with focus, their voices steady despite the pressure.
"We are ready."
Yuuki let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh.
"I'm about to do something incredibly reckless. I want to hear it from you—are you still with me?"
Yorktown didn't even look away from her console. "We chose this the moment we followed you."
Enterprise's tone remained calm, but unwavering. "We commit fully."
Belfast gave the slightest nod. "There is no hesitation, Master."
Yuuki's expression sharpened with satisfaction.
"Good. Then we are not escaping."
He leaned forward as the targeting grid expanded across the display.
"We are dismantling this entire submarine fleet."
A unified response came back immediately.
"Understood."
"Hana, bring up the Scalar Howitzer. Target the forward cluster."
Yorktown initiated the sequence, the weapon charging with a low, rising hum.
"Target locked. Firing."
A single discharge tore through the water, erasing a hostile submarine in an instant. The tactical display cleared one contact entirely.
Yorktown exhaled, eyes narrowing. "That output is… extreme."
Yuuki responded without looking away. "It is effective, but slow. Thirty seconds per charge cycle. Rotate your systems and do not waste the shot."
"Enterprise, maintain rear defense and adapt to Hana's weapon cycle."
Enterprise adjusted seamlessly. "Rear arc secured. Switching systems dynamically."
"Use torpedoes aggressively when windows open," Yuuki added. "Do not hold back."
"Understood."
"Belfast, I need clean targeting data and a viable route."
Belfast's interface filled with markers and vectors. "Enemy clusters identified. Mapping optimal engagement path while calculating an exit corridor."
She paused briefly, then added with quiet certainty, "We will not be trapped."
Yuuki glanced back only once.
"Akashi, Bulin, Purin, Kurin—stay secured."
Akashi nodded quickly, gripping her seat restraints. "We are good, nyaa."
The Bulins raised their tools excitedly, but remained seated as instructed.
"Bulin!"
"Purin!"
"Kurin!"
Music filled the cabin, the rhythm syncing with the rising tempo of the battle.
Aqua Nox OST - Aqua
"Perfect," Then, Yuuki's voice cut through it, sharp and controlled.
"Engage."
The Phobocaster accelerated forward, diving straight into the densest cluster of enemy submarines. Incoming torpedoes streaked toward them, but Yorktown intercepted with precise counterfire, detonating threats before impact.
Popping buzzers to disengage enemy torpedo.
"Three targets approaching from port side," Belfast reported.
Yuuki adjusted course instantly. "Hana, prepare secondary weapons. Do not wait for the howitzer."
"Torpedoes ready. Launching."
Explosions rippled through the water, breaking formation.
"Scalar charge at fifteen seconds," Yorktown added.
"Hold pressure," Yuuki replied. "Keep them disorganized."
The mother submarine began to reposition, attempting to reestablish control over the battlefield.
Yuuki saw it immediately.
"That is the anchor unit," he said. "We break that, the rest collapse."
"Scalar ready in five seconds," Yorktown reported.
"Marking primary target," Belfast confirmed.
"Rear clear," Enterprise added. "You have the opening."
Yuuki aligned the vessel, threading between incoming fire with precise movements.
"Take the shot."
Yorktown fired.
The Scalar Howitzer's beam carved a violent path through the water—bright, absolute—striking the mother submarine dead center.
For a moment, it looked like it would split it apart.
Then the light faded.
The hull—scarred, ruptured, but intact—held.
Systems flickered.
But it didn't die.
Yuuki narrowed his eyes slightly.
"…Yeah. That's a capital unit."
Enterprise didn't miss a beat. She pivoted immediately, covering their rear as smaller Siren subs tried to exploit the gap.
"Contacts behind us—engaging."
Her Plasma Gatling roared to life, streams of superheated plasma rounds cutting through the water. When the pressure mounted, she switched modes—slowing the rate of fire, but each shot hit harder, punching through reinforced hulls with surgical precision.
Ahead, Yorktown adapted just as quickly.
"Switching weapons."
The Twin Laser Gatling spun up—rapid, precise beams shredding smaller submarines trying to flank them. Then she triggered its secondary mode—
A burst.
A concentrated storm of laser fire that erased multiple targets in a single sweep.
"These subs are lighter," she said, focused. "But they're too many. Our smaller units wouldn't survive this."
Yuuki gave a short nod. "That's why we're here."
Then—
The comm cracked.
"Dude, don't forget—live samples."
Yuuki blinked once.
"…Really? Now?"
"Yup."
A beat.
Yuuki sighed.
"…Fine."
He shifted slightly.
"Hana—switch to EMPactor. Pick one, disable it."
Yorktown didn't question it. "Switching."
Belfast marked a target instantly. "Right flank. Isolated unit."
Yorktown fired.
The EMP round hit—arcs of electricity spread across the submarine's hull—
Systems died.
Motion ceased.
"Target immobilized."
Yuuki raised his hand slightly, a faint distortion forming in front of him.
"Chrono beam—engaging."
Space twisted for a split second—
The disabled submarine vanished.
Gone.
"Sample secured."
Enterprise exhaled lightly. "Efficient."
The battle intensified.
Weapons cycled continuously.
Yorktown swapped to Hitman, launching grenade clusters that detonated in controlled bursts—crippling groups of subs before they could regroup. She followed up with EMPactor shots, disabling targets one by one for capture or cleanup.
Enterprise switched to Sizzler—the railgun sniper.
One shot.
One kill.
Long-range precision.
No waste.
Occasionally, Yorktown mirrored her—sniping targets Belfast highlighted.
"Left vector, long-range contact," Belfast called.
"Target acquired," Enterprise replied.
Crack.
Gone.
Yuuki kept the Phobocaster moving—never still, never predictable.
"Doom Mortal—front arc!"
Yorktown fired.
Underwater firebombs detonated across the formation, pressure waves tearing through multiple submarines at once.
Then—
"Torpedoes ready!"
"Big Bang payload—launch!"
The torpedo streaked forward—
Detonation.
Four submarines vanished in a single blast.
"Leech torpedoes—disable, not destroy!"
Another volley—
Systems drained.
Targets slowed.
Exposed.
"Finish them!"
"Tiger Shark—fast launch!"
The high-speed torpedoes cut through the crippled units—
Clean kills.
Through it all—
Belfast guided.
"Adjust heading—three degrees starboard."
"Cluster forming—intercept now."
"Rear pressure increasing—Enterprise, compensate."
Her voice never rose.
Never wavered.
Yuuki leaned forward slightly, eyes locked on the battlefield.
The mother submarine still loomed ahead—damaged, but not broken.
"…Tough."
But not untouchable.
He exhaled once.
"Keep cycling. Keep pressure. We're breaking them piece by piece."
Enterprise confirmed. "Enemy numbers are decreasing."
Yorktown added, "They're losing coordination."
Belfast finished, "Their formation is collapsing."
Yuuki's faint smile returned.
"Good."
The Phobocaster surged forward again—
Not retreating.
Hunting.
Yuuki never let the tempo drop.
"Maintain the pattern," he said, voice steady as the Phobocaster cut through another arc. "We stay unpredictable. We stay alive."
The submarine surged forward, clipped a formation of smaller Siren subs, and peeled away before their counterfire could converge.
"Cluster ahead—five contacts," Belfast reported.
"Mark them."
"Marked."
Yorktown answered with Hitman grenades, staggered detonations rippling through the water and forcing the formation apart.
"EMPactor follow-up."
A pulse struck the lead unit, systems collapsing instantly.
"Chrono capture," Yuuki added.
Space warped for a fraction of a second, and the disabled submarine vanished.
"Sample secured," Enterprise confirmed, already shifting her aim to the rear. "Incoming torpedoes—intercepting."
Her Plasma Gatling flared, cutting the threats mid-run.
"Rear arc clear for a short window."
"Good," Yuuki replied. "We use it."
He drove them back into the fray.
They repeated the cycle with precision.
Strike.
Disrupt.
Capture or destroy.
Break contact.
Re-engage from a new vector.
Depth charges forced enemies out of hiding. Leech systems drained power from larger targets. Tiger Shark torpedoes hunted anything that tried to flee.
Each pass thinned the field.
Each maneuver denied the Sirens a stable firing solution.
"Scalar Howitzer charge at fifteen seconds," Yorktown reported.
Yuuki's gaze fixed on the mother submarine.
It still held formation—but its responses were slower now.
"…Keep everything else suppressed. It doesn't get breathing room."
Enterprise switched to Sizzler and eliminated a distant contact with a single shot.
"Rear sector stabilizing."
Belfast adjusted their heading. "I am opening a clean approach vector. You will have one opportunity."
"Understood."
"Five seconds," Yorktown said.
The mother submarine fired again—heavy volleys meant to pin them.
Yuuki rolled the Phobocaster sharply, threading through the barrage with minimal clearance.
"Now."
"Scalar ready."
"Take the shot."
The green beam struck.
The hull fractured further—visible instability spreading across its structure.
"Damage escalating," Belfast noted.
"But not enough," Enterprise added.
Yuuki nodded. "Then we repeat."
They disengaged.
Repositioned.
Came back harder.
The same tactic—refined with every pass.
No wasted movement.
No hesitation.
The Sirens attempted to regroup, but their coordination continued to degrade under sustained pressure.
"Scalar charging again," Yorktown said.
"Enemy command signals weakening," Belfast reported.
Enterprise added, "Their reaction time is dropping. They are losing control."
Yuuki leaned forward slightly.
"That's the break point."
"Charge complete."
Yorktown steadied her aim.
"Target locked."
Yuuki aligned the Phobocaster precisely.
"This is the final pass. No interference."
A brief silence settled across the crew.
"Fire."
The beam cut through the water and struck the mother submarine at its most unstable point.
This time, the structure failed completely.
The hull split apart as internal systems overloaded, energy cascading uncontrollably through the vessel.
For a fraction of a second, everything held—
Then the explosion tore it apart.
A massive shockwave expanded outward, scattering debris and collapsing what remained of the Siren formation.
Silence followed.
Enterprise scanned the field. "Command unit eliminated."
Belfast confirmed, "Enemy coordination has ceased."
Yorktown lowered her weapon slightly. "Remaining units are retreating or inactive."
Yuuki kept his eyes on the display a moment longer before easing back.
"The engagement is concluded."
The Phobocaster drifted through the wreckage, surrounded by the remains of a fleet that had once threatened to overwhelm them.
What remained was no longer a battle.
It was the aftermath of one.
The last contacts didn't scatter the way normal units would.
They blinked.
One moment they were on the scope—retreating, disorganized—
The next—
Gone.
Yorktown's eyes widened slightly. "Teleportation?!"
Enterprise immediately checked the readings. "No conventional displacement trail… they didn't run."
Belfast's fingers moved across her interface, analyzing residual data. "Energy spike detected just prior to disappearance. Localized… but extremely dense."
Akashi's ears twitched. "Hyperdrive underwater, nyaa?! That shouldn't be stable, nyaa!"
Yuuki didn't look surprised.
He leaned back slightly, eyes still scanning the fading signatures.
"…Not hyperdrive."
A brief pause.
"Short-range phase displacement."
Enterprise glanced at him. "They're phasing out of local space?"
"Yeah," Yuuki replied. "Think of it like skipping a frame in reality. They're not traveling through distance—they're bypassing it."
Yorktown frowned. "Underwater… during combat?"
"Expensive," Yuuki said. "Energy-wise and system strain. That's why they didn't use it earlier."
Belfast nodded faintly. "A last-resort withdrawal method."
Akashi crossed her arms, tail flicking. "Still unfair, nyaa…"
Yuuki gave a small shrug.
"They lost their command unit. Survival protocol kicked in."
He glanced at the tactical display again—now clear.
"…We did what we came here to do."
Yorktown exhaled slowly. "We still got samples."
Enterprise added, "And eliminated their command structure."
Belfast finished, "A decisive outcome."
Yuuki nodded once.
"Shame about the mother sub," he admitted. "Would've been a good capture."
A faint smirk returned.
"…Next time."
The ocean around them settled.
No more hostiles.
No more pressure.
Just open water.
Yuuki's hands moved across the controls.
"Alright—surface."
The Phobocaster angled upward.
Thrusters flared.
They shot through the depths, ascending rapidly as light began to filter down from above.
Darkness gave way—
To blue.
The Phobocaster breached the surface in a surge of white spray.
Then—stillness.
The sea had gone quiet.
No more hostile signatures. No more incoming fire. Only drifting wreckage and the faint distortion of heat where Siren ships had been vaporized moments ago.
Yorktown leaned slightly toward the display. "Multiple contacts… distant."
Enterprise confirmed. "Residual units. Retreating."
Yuuki zoomed in—small silhouettes breaking away toward the horizon.
"…Let them go," he said. "They're not regrouping anytime soon."
He angled the Phobocaster forward, guiding it toward the waiting GDS-25 ekranoplane. The massive craft floated steady on the water, its systems cooling, the glow of the nanoswarm already fading as it returned to its internal hive.
"Swarm's offline," Belfast noted. "Recharge cycle initiated."
Yuuki nodded. "Good. That means they used the full window."
The hatch opened.
Yuuki stepped out first, boots landing lightly on the wing of the ekranoplane. The aftermath was clearer now—sections of ocean scorched, debris scattered, and no enemy presence left within engagement range.
Illustrious stood near the edge, steady but visibly relieved. Atago and Takao flanked her, both still keyed from combat.
Yuuki walked up and gently patted Illustrious on the head.
"Great work, Illy."
She blinked—then smiled softly. "Ehee...."
"Shikikan-sama… Onee-san will require proper ear rubs later."
Yuuki huffed lightly. "Noted. You and Takao both earned it."
"ATAGO! TAKAO—NYAAA!!"
Akashi practically launched herself across the wing, colliding into the two sisters with full force.
"I missed you both, nyaa!"
Atago laughed warmly, returning the embrace. "Ara, Akashi… you're as energetic as ever."
Takao gave a small nod, though her expression softened. "It is good to see you again."
"Illus-chan!"
The Bulins swarmed next—three small figures clinging to Illustrious in seconds.
"My, the Bulin sisters," Illustrious said gently, kneeling slightly to steady them. "It has been quite some time."
"Bulin!"
"Purin!"
"Kurin!"
They even hugged Atago and Takao.
And then—
Akashi turned.
Her eyes locked onto the ekranoplane.
They lit up instantly.
"Nyaa… Nyaa—! Another advanced machine, nyaa!!"
She rushed forward, circling it at alarming speed.
"Shikikan, what is this? What does it do? How many weapons? What are the specs, nyaa?! The sub too—the Phobocaster—those laser systems—those rail outputs—!"
The Bulins joined her immediately, already climbing, tapping, inspecting.
"Big!"
"Strong!"
"Complicated!"
Yuuki exhaled slowly.
"…Akashi."
She didn't stop.
"Energy output! Structural composition! Modular systems—!"
"…Akashi."
Still nothing.
He stepped closer and caught her gently by the shoulder.
"Too much excitement will actually kill you."
She froze.
"…Nyaa?"
Behind them, Yorktown, Enterprise, and Belfast all sighed in near-perfect sync.
"Here we go again," Yorktown muttered.
Yuuki reached up and disengaged his armor.
The Mark-47 unfolded and stepped away from him, locking into sentry mode beside the craft.
Akashi's head snapped toward it.
"…NYAAA?! IT MOVES ON ITS OWN?!"
Before she could recover—
Yuuki activated the storage device.
The Phobocaster shimmered—
Compressed—
Then collapsed into a compact, handheld unit in his palm.
Silence.
Then—
Akashi's eyes went wide.
The Bulins froze mid-motion.
Then all four turned toward him at once.
"…Nyaaaaaaaaaa?!"
Yuuki closed the device casually.
"…Yeah," he said.
"We're going to need to pace the explanations."
Belfast allowed herself a faint smile.
"A wise decision, Master."
Enterprise crossed her arms, watching Akashi vibrate with barely contained curiosity.
"She's going to take that as a challenge."
Yorktown laughed softly. "We might need to restrain her."
Akashi stepped closer again—very slowly this time.
"…Shikikan…"
A pause.
"…Please explain everything."
Yuuki looked at her.
Then at the Bulins.
Then at the ekranoplane.
He exhaled once.
"…We'll start with the basics."
The ocean around them remained calm.
But what they had brought back—
Would change everything.
===============
The ekranoplane cut smoothly across the calm sea, engines now a steady hum instead of a roar. The battlefield was gone behind them—only open water ahead.
In the lounge of the Ekranoplane, Yuuki sat casually, one hand absentmindedly brushing through Atago's hair while the other gently rubbed Takao's ears. Both sisters had settled into the rare quiet, their earlier intensity replaced by something softer.
Atago leaned slightly into the touch, a satisfied smile forming. "Ara… Shikikan-sama keeps his promises."
Takao remained composed, but her posture eased just enough to show she appreciated it.
Nearby, Akashi lay flat on her back with a folded towel over her forehead.
Completely out.
"…Nyaa…"
Yuuki glanced at her, then sighed.
"Yeah… we're definitely covering her eyes when we get back."
Yorktown raised a brow, holding her bento. "That bad?"
Yuuki didn't even hesitate. "If she sees the retrofitted Orochi, the command carrier, or anything in the main hangar… she's going to faint again. Possibly harder."
Enterprise nodded while eating. "Overstimulation threshold exceeded."
Belfast added calmly, "A controlled introduction would be… advisable."
Yuuki smirked faintly. "Glad we agree."
The Bulins had long since burned out.
All three were curled up together on Illustrious's lap, fast asleep—tools still loosely held in their hands like children refusing to let go of toys.
Illustrious looked down at them, her expression gentle. "They have not changed at all."
Nearby, Yorktown, Enterprise, and Belfast had already disengaged their armor, returning to their standard uniforms. The contrast from moments ago was almost surreal—battle-hardened warriors now quietly sharing a meal.
Belfast's cooking, with Yuuki's additions, had clearly helped reset the mood.
The ekranoplane cruised steadily over calm waters, the tension of battle now replaced by quiet reflection and the occasional playful complaint.
Yuuki leaned back slightly, glancing toward Illustrious.
"So," he said, tone casual but curious, "how did it feel using the F-SPAR?"
Illustrious lifted her gaze, still half-resting against him.
"…Overwhelming," she admitted. "A single shot was enough to erase a battleship. Then another… a carrier followed just as easily."
Her fingers curled slightly against his sleeve, as if recalling the moment.
"It did not feel like a weapon meant for prolonged combat… but for decisive strikes."
Atago immediately leaned in, clearly dissatisfied.
"That's not fair," she said, pouting lightly. "Next time, I want to fire it."
Yuuki gave her a sideways look. "We'll see."
Takao crossed her arms, though her tone carried quiet respect.
"The enemy formation began to collapse after the third shot. By the seventh, they had lost all cohesion."
Illustrious nodded. "The Nanoswarm Protocol disengaged shortly after. The F-SPAR sealed itself completely."
Yuuki tapped the side of the ekranoplane lightly.
"Two-minute window. High risk, high return."
Belfast added calmly, "A weapon designed not for sustained engagement, but for altering the course of a battle instantly."
Enterprise nodded. "Strategic dominance tool."
Takao continued, her voice steady.
"The Overload Protocol increased output across all systems. Railguns and pulse cannons were significantly stronger."
Atago's smile returned, this time sharper. "Cruisers didn't stand a chance."
"And the Big Bang torpedoes," Takao added, "were devastating. Multiple targets eliminated in single detonations."
Yorktown let out a low whistle. "Sounds like everything went into overdrive."
Yuuki gave a small nod.
"That's exactly what it is."
He glanced at them all.
"A temporary spike in capability. Enough to break a superior force—if used correctly."
Illustrious looked thoughtful. "And if misused…"
"You burn through your advantage and get nothing," Yuuki finished.
A brief pause.
Then—
Atago crossed her arms again, still not letting go of her earlier point.
"Still… I want a turn next time."
Yuuki smirked faintly. "You just want the big cannon."
"…Maybe."
Even Takao allowed the smallest hint of amusement.
Yuuki glanced toward the horizon, then back at Illustrious.
"So… you let those ships go."
Illustrious met his gaze, calm but honest. "Yes. They were retreating."
"You didn't pursue?"
She shook her head softly.
"Atago and Takao agreed. We did not want to leave you behind."
A small pause.
The wind passed quietly over the sea.
Then—
"…Am I in trouble?" she asked, almost cautiously.
Yuuki blinked once.
Then let out a short breath.
"Nah."
He gave her a small nod.
"You did good. Really good."
Illustrious relaxed slightly.
"Besides," Yuuki added, gesturing toward the open ocean, "we're way outside our operational zone. No point overextending for a chase that doesn't gain us anything."
Enterprise nodded in agreement. "Strategically sound."
Yorktown smiled lightly. "You chose people over kills."
Belfast added, "That is never the wrong decision."
Illustrious smiled—soft, relieved.
"…Thank you."
Illustrious shifted slightly, then—without much hesitation—rested her head on Yuuki's lap.
Yuuki glanced down at her, then smiled, his hand moving gently through her hair.
"You did really well."
Illustrious closed her eyes, clearly enjoying the rare moment of calm.
Atago immediately leaned in from the side, narrowing her eyes playfully.
"Illy! That's my spot."
Illustrious gave a soft, teasing hum. "Ufufu… I would also like Lord Commander to spoil me."
Yuuki let out a quiet chuckle. "Alright, alright… you earned it."
He didn't stop there—his other hand continued rubbing Atago's ears, earning a satisfied expression from her as well.
Takao, now standing nearby, simply watched for a moment before looking away slightly—composed as ever, though not entirely unaffected.
Belfast observed the scene, then let out a small sigh.
"We ventured into a collapsing vault, fought an entire Siren fleet… and yet Lady Illustrious receives the first reward."
Yorktown smirked, casually finishing her meal. "That doesn't mean the rest of us won't."
She glanced at Yuuki, clearly amused.
"Once I'm done eating, I'm claiming a spot."
Enterprise nearly choked on her bite, cheeks faintly flushed.
"H-Hana, that's not fair."
Yorktown leaned back slightly, grin widening.
"You snooze, you lose, Enty."
Enterprise looked away, flustered but trying to recover her composure. "That is… not how this works."
Belfast covered her mouth lightly, hiding a faint smile. "It would seem competition has already begun."
Yuuki shook his head, still smiling.
"…You girls are unbelievable."
But he didn't stop.
One hand gently patting Illustrious's head.
The other still giving Atago her well-earned attention.
For once—
No battle.
No pressure.
Just a quiet moment earned the hard way.
================
Unaware that a flying eagle had passed silently above the speeding ekranoplane, it veered toward a small, isolated island and descended in a smooth arc before settling upon the shoulder of a waiting woman.
The woman stood motionless at the island's edge, as though she had been there long before the world itself had taken notice. Her shoulder length, white-silver hair drifted in the sea breeze, strands catching the dim light like threads of frost, yet lacking any sense of softness. It moved with a quiet, untamed rhythm, as if shaped by countless storms rather than gentle winds. When the eagle landed, she did not flinch. Her crimson eyes, faintly glowing, remained fixed on the distant horizon—cold, unwavering, and impossibly deep, as though they could see far beyond the visible world.
Her expression did not change. It rarely did. There was no surprise, no warmth in her gaze—only a distant stillness, the kind carried by someone who had long since grown accustomed to silence and loss. The bird shifted slightly on her shoulder, its presence acknowledged only by the subtle tilt of her head, a minimal gesture that suggested familiarity rather than affection.
Her attire absorbed the fading light of dusk. Black and charcoal tones wrapped her form, accented by deep crimson lines that seemed to pulse faintly, like embers hidden beneath ash. The uniform still bore traces of its naval origin, but whatever symbol of order it once represented had been reshaped into something far more severe. It was no longer ceremonial—it was survival, refined into form.
Behind her, the rigging loomed into existence with a low, mechanical whisper. Dark, angular structures unfolded like broken wings, fragments of a carrier reborn into something sharper, more predatory. Unlike pristine machinery, these constructs appeared weathered, almost scarred, as if reforged again and again through relentless conflict. Their asymmetry gave them a disquieting presence, as though they no longer adhered to conventional design, but to necessity alone.
At her side rested her bow, its frame darker than before, etched with faint crimson luminescence. The air around it shimmered ever so slightly, as if the weapon contained energy that strained against containment. When her fingers brushed against it, the distortion intensified for a brief moment—then stilled, obedient under her control.
The sea stretched endlessly before her, waves rolling in quiet defiance against the shore. Yet around her, the atmosphere felt heavier, subtly warped by her presence. Even the wind seemed to hesitate, as though unwilling to disturb the stillness she carried.
For a long moment, she simply stood there—silent, unmoving, watching.
Then, almost imperceptibly, her crimson gaze narrowed.
"So, that's the anomaly that landed in this world?" the woman shrouded in darkness spoke. Through the eagle, she had seen how the anomaly wielded weapons beyond her understanding—she who had endured Siren worlds one after another, survived their endless trials, and even surpassed them.
"You seem rather tense, Code-G." Another woman stepped into the dim light behind her.
"Code-T." The one called Code-G cast a brief glance over her shoulder.
The woman emerged from the shadows with measured steps, her presence cutting through the air like a drawn blade. Her long, silver-white hair fell in uneven layers, swaying lightly with each movement, yet carrying a weight that made it feel less like silk and more like something tempered through hardship. Strands framed her face sharply, accentuating the intensity of her crimson eyes—eyes that glowed faintly, unwavering, as if constantly locked onto an unseen target.
Her expression was composed, but not calm. There was a tension beneath it, subtle yet unmistakable, like steel held under pressure. Even at rest, she carried the posture of someone perpetually prepared to strike, her every step precise, controlled, and deliberate.
The attire she wore reflected that same ruthless refinement. Dark tones—black and ash-gray—wrapped around her form, interwoven with deep crimson accents that seemed to pulse faintly in the low light. Elements of her former uniform remained, but they had been reshaped into something sharper, more functional. The flowing lines of a kimono had been broken and reinforced with armored segments, creating a silhouette that balanced elegance with lethality.
Behind her, fragments of rigging materialized with a low mechanical hum. Jagged, blade-like structures hovered in formation, their edges angular and unforgiving, as though pieces of a warship had been reforged into weapons. They bore the marks of countless battles—scarred, asymmetrical, yet undeniably powerful, radiating a restrained, dangerous energy.
At her side rested her katana, though "rest" felt like the wrong word. The blade seemed alive in its stillness, its dark surface occasionally catching a faint crimson sheen, like embers flickering beneath polished steel. Her hand lingered near the hilt—not out of caution, but habit, the instinct of someone who had drawn it too many times to count.
When she stopped beside Code-G, the air itself seemed to tighten, as if caught between two overwhelming presences. Unlike the oppressive stillness that surrounded Code-G, Code-T's aura was sharper—tense, cutting, like the moment just before steel meets its mark.
Her gaze shifted briefly toward the distant horizon, toward the anomaly.
"…It is not the anomaly that concerns me," Code-G said quietly, her voice calm but carrying weight beneath it. "It is what follows it."
The chamber around them pulsed faintly with Siren energy—cold, precise, artificial.
Code-T stood opposite her, arms crossed, expression sharp.
"The man… he doesn't exist in any Siren database," Code-T replied. "No records. No projections. No probability branches."
A pause.
"And yet… he possesses weapons capable of eliminating Siren units in a single discharge."
Code-G's gaze remained distant.
"The crest," Code-T continued. "A diving eagle. Unknown origin. Unknown faction."
Her eyes narrowed.
"Who is he?"
Code-G didn't answer immediately.
"…I don't know."
That alone made the air heavier.
"That is why you let him enter the vault?" Code-T pressed. "The one entrusted to you by this world's commander?"
Code-G finally looked at her.
"I had no data," she said. "No predictive model. No outcome certainty."
A faint pause.
"…But my instinct told me he was trustworthy."
Code-T's expression hardened. "Instinct? You are a Siren construct."
"I am more than that," Code-G replied quietly.
Another pause.
"And I do not believe I could defeat him."
Code-T scoffed.
"He is just a man hiding behind weapons of mass destruction. Strip those away and he is nothing but—"
Code-G cut in.
"But what?"
Silence.
"Do you know him?" Code-G asked. "Truly?"
Code-T didn't respond.
"Do you know the one your counterpart follows in this world?" Code-G continued.
A step closer.
"You call me strong, Code-T. But I am nothing more than a corrupted reflection of someone who chose to follow him."
Her voice lowered.
"Without Siren enhancement… I am nothing."
Code-T clenched her jaw. "You're making excuses."
"No," Code-G said calmly. "I am acknowledging reality."
She turned slightly, gaze unfocused—remembering.
"There is something about him we are not seeing."
Code-T frowned. "Explain."
Code-G's voice softened.
"He may appear to hide behind those weapons…"
A pause.
"…but what if those weapons are not hiding him…"
Her eyes sharpened.
"…but restraining him?"
Code-T's expression shifted—just slightly.
"That is speculation."
"No," Code-G said.
"…It is a vision."
Silence fell.
"I saw it," Code-G continued. "A battlefield."
Her voice slowed, as if replaying something etched into her core.
"Sirens… erased."
"Not by machines alone…"
"…but by something darker."
She exhaled faintly.
"A presence. Black… threaded with gold."
Code-T didn't interrupt.
"And at the center…"
A pause.
"…him."
Code-G's gaze lowered.
"A face not recorded. Not predicted. Not understood."
Another breath.
"He fought alongside shipgirls… not as a commander alone…"
"…but as something synchronized with them."
Code-T's voice cut through.
"You trusted that?"
Code-G met her eyes.
"I saw myself fall."
Silence.
Heavy.
Unavoidable.
"That is why you let him take the cubes," Code-T said.
It wasn't a question.
Code-G didn't deny it.
"Are you certain you can defeat him?" she asked quietly.
"He may look like a man…"
Her voice lowered.
"…but in that vision, he showed no mercy to those he considered enemies."
A pause.
"I saw only death."
She tilted her head slightly.
"What makes you different?"
Code-T turned away.
"A vision is just a vision."
Her voice was firm—but no longer entirely dismissive.
"It is uncertainty. Nothing more."
She began to walk.
"I will eliminate him."
A pause.
"And his faction."
Her tone hardened again.
"It is nothing more than an anomaly."
Behind her—
Code-G remained still.
Watching.
Not convinced.
Because for the first time—
An anomaly had no data.
No prediction.
And no guarantee of victory.
================
Far beneath the surface—far deeper than any battlefield they had just left behind—there was another place untouched by victory.
An underwater station.
Silent.
Cold.
Forgotten.
Within it, a single room sat dim and damp, its walls lined with condensation and corrosion. A faint, filtered light from the ocean beyond pressed through a reinforced window—endless blue, shifting shadows, and the slow drift of something alive out there.
Inside—
She sat.
White hair, long and unkempt, cascading over torn fabric that barely counted as clothing. Chains bound her—neck, wrists, ankles—heavy restraints anchored into the floor and walls, each one designed to ensure she would never leave.
She didn't struggle.
Not anymore.
Her eyes were fixed on the window.
On the ocean.
On a world she could see…
But never touch.
Days and maybe weeks had passed here.
Uncounted.
Unanswered.
She had been taken.
Broken from whatever life she once had.
Captured in a ransacked village of the north. Long her purpose as a shipgirl lost.
Left here—
Waiting.
To be sold.
To be forgotten.
Or worse—
To simply exist until nothing remained.
Yet—
She whispered.
Not in despair.
But in belief.
"The voice of my saviour… my beloved…"
Her fingers tightened slightly against the chains—not to break them, but to feel something real.
"You call to me… even in the dark…"
Her voice was soft.
Frail.
But not empty.
"Please… my beloved… come for me…"
Her eyes closed briefly, as if holding onto something only she could hear.
"I will not surrender to fate."
A breath.
Steady.
"I pray… that even here… the light of dawn will reach me."
Outside the window, shadows moved.
Large.
Slow.
Predatory.
Guardians of a prison no one was meant to escape.
Even she knew it.
A faint, fragile smile touched her lips.
"Even if my knight were to come…"
Her voice trembled—just slightly.
"…they would never make it past the sharks…"
The water shifted again.
Darkness passed across the glass.
But she didn't look away.
The cold did not touch her.
The silence did not break her.
She endured.
Because somewhere—
Somehow—
She believed.
"The coming of dawn… is delayed…"
Her voice softened into something almost inaudible.
"…but not gone…"
Her fingers curled gently.
A quiet plea.
"Please…"
"…beloved…"
"…save this broken ship."
The girl's voice was barely more than a breath, her fingers tightening faintly against the cold chains as she stared out into the endless dark beyond the glass.
The ocean did not answer.
But someone else did.
"You sound very certain, Comrade Avrora."
Avrora turned her head slowly.
Red hair dimmed by the low light, eyes steady, watching. Even in restraints, there was discipline in the way she held herself.
"Yes," Avrora replied softly. "I have heard his voice… in my dreams."
Her gaze lingered on her.
"He calls to me."
The girl's expression didn't change, but her voice dropped slightly.
"You had it easy…"
Avrora blinked. "Easy?"
The red headed girl looked down at her own hands, flexing her fingers once as if testing something that was no longer there.
"I am… defective," she said flatly. "Even between us, I fall short. Compared to others like you… I am lacking."
A pause.
"No… extremely lacking. A Nikke will never be able to match a shipgirl. If you failed to stop the sirens, what makes us any different."
Avrora watched her quietly.
"Forgive me for asking, Comrade Rapi…" she said gently. "You are not human, are you? Your blood… it feels different."
Rapi didn't hesitate.
"I am a Nikke."
The word settled between them.
"And I know what you are," Rapi continued. "A shipgirl. Built to fight the Sirens at sea."
Avrora gave a small nod.
"Yes… we fight where the ocean stretches beyond land."
Rapi's eyes hardened slightly.
"And we fight where you cannot stand."
A faint, bitter edge entered her voice.
"When the Sirens advanced… they deployed the Raptures across the cities."
She exhaled slowly.
"The same enemy. Just… a different battlefield."
Avrora lowered her gaze.
"…Yes."
A quiet moment passed.
"We failed," Rapi said.
Not loud.
Not emotional.
Just… stated.
"The Sirens succeeded."
Her eyes flicked toward the reinforced walls around them.
"And now… we are here."
Avrora closed her eyes briefly.
Chains shifted softly.
"…No."
Rapi glanced at her again.
Avrora's voice was still gentle—but there was something unbroken in it.
"We did not fail."
Rapi frowned slightly. "Then what would you call this?"
Avrora opened her eyes, looking not at the chains—but beyond them.
"A pause."
Silence.
Rapi stared at her.
"…That is not how war works."
"Perhaps not," Avrora admitted. "But I heard him."
Rapi's gaze sharpened. "The voice again."
"Yes."
"What did it say?"
Avrora's expression softened.
"…That he would come."
Rapi leaned back against the wall, unconvinced.
"…Dreams are unreliable."
Avrora didn't argue.
"They are," she said quietly.
A small pause.
"…but sometimes…"
Her fingers curled slightly, not in desperation—but in quiet resolve.
"…they are the only proof that hope still exists."
Outside the window, something vast moved through the water—silent, watchful, circling.
The station remained sealed.
The chains remained unbroken.
But somewhere—
Far above—
The world had already begun to shift.
The dim cell held its silence, broken only by the distant hum of machinery and the slow, heavy movement of the ocean beyond the reinforced glass.
Avrora lifted her gaze slightly.
"Didn't the Ark establish the Nikke?"
Rapi gave a quiet, bitter exhale.
"The Ark is not what you think it is."
She shifted slightly against the wall, chains dragging softly.
"They had the resources to fight. They had the power to adapt. But when the Sirens entered the battlefield, everything changed."
Avrora listened, unmoving.
"We were still holding against the Raptures," Rapi continued. "It was difficult, but it was manageable. Then the Sirens appeared… and our entire system collapsed."
Her eyes hardened.
"Nikke units began failing. Not because we lacked skill, but because we were never designed to fight something like them."
A pause followed.
"The Ark saw that reality and made a decision."
Avrora's voice softened. "They sealed themselves."
Rapi nodded.
"They closed the gates and abandoned the surface. They stopped trying to reclaim it."
Silence settled for a moment.
"They left us behind."
Avrora lowered her gaze slightly.
Rapi continued, her voice steady but heavy.
"The Sirens did not just dominate the oceans. They used the Raptures as extensions of their will. Cities that resisted were targeted."
She looked at her hands again.
"Some fell. Some held out. Nikke units were deployed to defend those places."
A faint pause.
"But not all of us remained under Ark control."
Avrora tilted her head slightly.
"You were one of those who left."
Rapi gave a small nod.
"I was captured. Disabled. My systems were shut down."
She lifted her arm slightly, letting the chains speak for her condition.
"In this state, I am no different from a human. I cannot deploy weapons. I cannot access combat functions."
Her voice lowered.
"You cannot manifest your rigging. I cannot manifest my systems."
Another pause.
"Compared to shipgirls, we are inferior."
Avrora shook her head gently.
"Do not say that."
Rapi looked at her, slightly surprised.
"We are different, but not lesser," Avrora said. "We fight in different ways."
Her gaze drifted toward the window.
"After the fall of our base, we scattered as well. Many were lost. Others vanished."
She inhaled slowly.
"I survived in a northern village. I lived quietly for a time."
Her voice dimmed slightly.
"Until it was destroyed."
Rapi did not interrupt.
"Pirates came two weeks ago," Avrora added.
The words were simple, but the weight behind them was clear.
Rapi leaned her head back against the wall.
"The Ark disabled all Nikke outside its control. A remote shutdown protocol."
Her tone carried restrained frustration.
"When I left, I lost everything. My weapons, my enhancements, my purpose."
She closed her eyes briefly.
"For five years, I have survived like this. Just another body trying not to endure."
Avrora watched her quietly.
"There are others, aren't there?" she asked.
Rapi opened her eyes again.
"Yes. Other Nikkes scattered across the surface. Disabled. Abandoned."
A pause.
"Still trying to survive."
The silence returned, heavier than before.
Avrora closed her eyes for a moment.
"Then that is all the more reason," she said softly.
Rapi turned her head slightly.
"For what?"
Avrora's voice remained calm, but certain.
"For him to come."
Rapi did not answer immediately.
This time, she did not dismiss the idea either.
Silence settled between them, but this time it felt different—not empty, not hopeless, but waiting.
Avrora lowered her head, her eyes closing as if listening to something beyond the reach of sound. The chains around her shifted faintly as her fingers tightened, not in struggle, but in quiet resolve.
"…Dear beloved…"
Rapi looked toward her, sensing the change immediately. There was a tension in the air now, something subtle yet undeniable.
"If you can hear me…" Avrora continued, her voice steadier than before. "Please… help this broken ship…"
The words no longer sounded like a desperate plea. They carried intent—like a signal cast into the dark.
"…If you can hear me… my name is Avrora…"
A pause followed, fragile yet unwavering.
"I have been waiting… for a dawn that never came…"
Her breath trembled, but her voice did not break.
"Please… hear me…"
The station remained silent.
The ocean pressed against the glass, unmoved.
For a moment, it seemed like nothing would answer.
Then—
A pulse.
So faint it could have been imagined.
Rapi's head snapped toward her.
"…That was not environmental."
Another pulse followed—stronger this time.
The chains around Avrora vibrated softly, metal humming with an energy that did not belong in this place.
A dim glow emerged from her chest.
Her cube.
It was awakening.
Rapi leaned forward as far as her restraints allowed, eyes narrowing in disbelief.
"That should not be possible. There is no transmission signal reaching this depth."
===================
The ekranoplane cruised steadily across the calm sea, its engines humming in a low, steady rhythm. The tension of battle had faded into something almost peaceful.
Yuuki sat where he was, one hand gently resting on Illustrious's head, the other absentmindedly brushing along Atago's ears. Both had settled into the quiet, their earlier intensity replaced by warmth and ease.
Nearby, Belfast, Takao, Yorktown, and Enterprise spoke in low voices, discussing the engagement, refining what had worked, what could improve. The Bulins slept soundly on Illustrious's lap, completely spent from excitement. Akashi, now recovered, was already back to muttering about systems, occasionally glancing at the ekranoplane with barely contained curiosity.
Then—
Yuuki froze.
His hand stopped mid-motion.
His expression tightened slightly as he brought a hand to his head.
"…Tch."
Atago immediately straightened. "Shikikan-sama…?"
Illustrious lifted her head from his lap, concern replacing her relaxed expression.
"Lord Commander?"
The shift was instant.
Belfast turned.
Enterprise's eyes sharpened.
Yorktown stood.
Takao stepped forward.
"Master?" Belfast asked, her voice calm but alert.
Yuuki exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing as if focusing on something far beyond them.
"…Another one."
A pause.
"…Just like you and Bel, Illy."
Illustrious blinked. "Just like… us?"
Yorktown frowned slightly. "You mean—another signal?"
Yuuki lowered his hand, gaze distant.
"She's calling for help."
The words landed heavily.
Enterprise crossed her arms slightly. "Source?"
Yuuki hesitated for a fraction of a second.
Then spoke.
"…Does the name Avrora mean anything to you?"
Silence.
Immediate.
Illustrious's eyes widened slightly.
Takao's posture stiffened.
Belfast's expression sharpened.
Yorktown inhaled slowly.
"…Avrora…"
The name wasn't unfamiliar.
It carried weight.
And memory.
Yuuki's gaze returned to them.
"Avrora, nyaa? Avrora-san?"
Akashi's ears perked up immediately, the name snapping her fully awake.
Yuuki glanced at her. "You know her?"
Yorktown stepped forward before Akashi could answer, her expression already tightening.
"We fought alongside her," she said. "She's from the Northern Parliament. Pallada-class light cruiser—Avrora."
Yuuki nodded once. "A Soviet ship."
"Yes," Yorktown confirmed quietly.
The weight of that sank in.
If she was calling—
Then she was alive.
And in trouble.
Belfast stepped closer, already shifting into operational mode.
"Commander, can you determine her location?"
Yuuki closed his eyes.
The world around him dimmed—not physically, but in focus—as he followed the thread of that voice.
Faint.
Distant.
But unmistakable.
"…Jarvis," he said calmly. "Triangulate."
A brief pause.
Then—
"Analyzing signal origin…"
The system processed rapidly, cross-referencing oceanic grids, known Siren territories, abandoned zones, dead coordinates.
"Vector established."
A projection appeared.
A direction.
Deep.
Remote.
Takao leaned in slightly. "Do we have a base there?"
Another pause.
Then—
"No registered installations detected. No Siren base or facility, no known structure within that vector."
Silence.
Yorktown frowned. "That doesn't make sense…"
Enterprise's eyes narrowed. "A signal without a source location."
Belfast spoke quietly. "Or a location that does not officially exist."
Akashi's tail flicked uneasily. "Hidden, nyaa…"
Yuuki opened his eyes.
"…No," he said.
His voice was calm.
Certain.
"Not hidden."
A beat.
"…Buried."
All eyes turned to him.
He pointed slightly toward the projected vector.
"She's not on the surface."
The implication settled instantly.
Yuuki tilted his head slightly, activating a direct channel to his friend.
"Verg… I need a favor," he said under his breath. "Call it repayment for those samples earlier. Scan this vector—any live shipgirl signatures?"
A short pause.
Then Vergil's voice came through, casual as ever.
"…Since when do you ask nicely?"
Yuuki didn't bite. "Just run it."
"Yeah, yeah… triangulating."
A few seconds passed—longer than usual.
Then—
"…Huh."
Yuuki's eyes narrowed. "What?"
"There is one," Vergil said slowly. "But this one's… strange."
"How strange?"
"Signal's live, no doubt about it," Vergil replied. "But the depth… it's insane. Around six thousand meters below sea level."
Silence.
Yuuki exhaled. "…That's abyssal."
"Exactly," Vergil continued. "And get this—it's not near any known structure. Open water… at least on record."
Belfast, listening in, spoke quietly. "Nothing official exists at that depth."
Vergil wasn't done.
"But I'm picking up something else," he added. "Faint structures. Large-scale. Looks like… an underwater port."
Yorktown frowned. "A facility? That deep?"
Yuuki crossed his arms slightly. "Humans?"
"Wouldn't rule it out," Vergil said. "If they wanted to hide from Sirens, going that deep would keep them off most scans."
Takao's expression hardened. "At the cost of mobility and escape."
Enterprise added, "And at extreme structural risk."
Vergil chuckled faintly. "Oh, it gets better. I'm reading hundreds of signals down there. Not all shipgirls. Mixed signatures."
Akashi's ears flattened slightly. "That's not a shelter, nyaa… that's a colony."
Yuuki muttered, "…or a prison."
A brief pause.
Vergil hummed. "Either way, it's a goldmine for research. You have no idea what kind of tech could exist that deep. I've seen your dogfights. Submarines move that fast making conventional submarines pale in comparison. Plus, the ability to hyperdrive underwater?"
Yuuki rolled his eyes. "There it is."
"What?"
"You and your research."
Vergil didn't deny it. "You're welcome."
The line dimmed.
Silence lingered for a moment on the ekranoplane.
Then—
Yorktown spoke.
"…Six thousand meters."
Belfast nodded. "That exceeds standard operational limits for most vessels."
Enterprise looked at Yuuki. "Phobocaster can handle it?"
Yuuki didn't hesitate.
"Yeah."
A pause.
"But pressure won't be the problem."
Takao glanced at him. "Then what is?"
Yuuki's eyes sharpened slightly.
"If something's down there… and it's not showing up on Siren records…"
A beat.
"…then whatever built it doesn't want to be found."
The ocean stretched endlessly around them.
Calm on the surface.
Unknowable below.
Yuuki stepped forward slightly, gaze fixed on the horizon.
"…And we're about to knock on its door."
Yorktown broke the silence first, her voice steady but expectant.
"Commander… what should we do?"
Yuuki didn't answer immediately. His eyes stayed on the horizon, but his mind was already moving several steps ahead—logistics, timing, risk.
"We don't stay out here," he said at last. "Not like this."
He glanced toward the ekranoplane systems.
"The Nanoswarm is already spent. If another fleet shows up, we don't have that edge anymore."
Enterprise nodded. "Our current position is exposed."
"Exactly," Yuuki replied. "So we go home first. We drop Akashi and the Bulins somewhere safe, rearm the Phobocaster, then redeploy."
Belfast added, "A controlled insertion rather than a rushed descent."
Yuuki continued, "We'll stage from a nearby island. From there, we dive—reach the target—and use the Chronosphere to extract."
Takao crossed her arms slightly. "A strike and retrieval operation."
"Fast," Yuuki confirmed. "Clean. No lingering."
There was a pause.
Then—
Illustrious spoke.
"…Lord Commander… may we accompany you this time?"
Atago leaned in slightly, her tone softer than usual.
"Please, Shikikan-sama."
Takao didn't speak—but her gaze said enough.
Belfast, Yorktown, and Enterprise exchanged brief looks.
They understood immediately.
This wasn't about capability.
It was about inclusion.
About being chosen.
Yuuki looked at the three of them.
He saw it clearly.
Not defiance.
Not complaint.
Just that quiet sting of being left behind—again.
They had followed orders flawlessly during the exploration of the old headquarters and the underwater vault.
Held the line.
Trusted him.
But they were still… people.
Not just subordinates.
He exhaled slowly.
"…Alright."
Three pairs of eyes lifted at once.
"We go back first," he said. "Drop Akashi and the Bulin sisters. Rearm the sub."
A small pause.
"Then you're coming with me alongside them."
For a second—
They didn't react.
Then—
"Eh?"
Illustrious blinked.
Atago's ears perked instantly.
Takao's posture straightened.
"…Truly?" Illustrious asked.
Yuuki smirked faintly. "Yeah. I can't leave my girls behind."
Atago smiled, clearly pleased. "Ara… we won't disappoint you."
Takao gave a firm nod. "We will be ready."
Akashi, however, immediately leaned forward.
"Eh?! We can't come too, nyaa?"
Yuuki looked at her, then shook his head.
"Not this time."
Akashi froze. "…Nyaa…"
"You just woke up," he said. "You're not combat-ready yet. Plus, I don't have any armor of your size. Sorry...."
Her ears drooped slightly.
"…Hai, nyaa…"
Yuuki softened just a little as he pats her ears. She purrs and leans towards it.
"Next time."
Akashi looked up again, hopeful.
"…Promise, nyaa?"
"Promise."
The decision settled across the group.
Yorktown smiled faintly. "Looks like the team's getting bigger."
Enterprise added, "Yes."
Belfast nodded. "As does morale."
Yuuki glanced at all of them.
Then forward.
"…Good."
Because whatever was waiting six thousand meters below—
They were not going in unprepared.
And this time—
No one who wanted to stand beside him would be left behind.