Hikaru followed Lexington's gaze toward the south. The sun had already set, and the Black Sea stretched endlessly before them—vast, dark, and bottomless, like a black abyss yawning open across the horizon.
"What did you spot?"
Lexington pressed her lips together and raised her hand. Two or three dozen carrier aircraft materialized in the air and shot southward like a flock of birds. "I'm sending my aircraft ahead to scout. Something feels off."
Tirpitz wasn't much help in recon—her search capabilities were low—but at least she knew when to get serious. She closed her manga and focused.
After a short wait, Hikaru asked, "It's getting dark. Will your aircraft be okay?"
Nightfall was always dangerous for carriers—and by extension, for carrier-type shipgirls. Operating carrier planes was like watching dozens of screens at once. When night came, it was like all the screens blacked out simultaneously.
"It's a hassle, but my aircraft are equipped for night operations," Lexington said as she took Hikaru's hand. "It'll be fine."
The reconnaissance mission continued until nearly 11 p.m., at which point Lexington recalled half her aircraft. The rest were ordered to patrol around the campsite.
Hikaru handed her a piece of dried beef jerky. "So, no results?"
Lexington looked troubled. "Something really doesn't feel right. Let's make this a quick and clean operation."
For Lexington, Hikaru's safety always came first.
That night, Hikaru slept soundly, cuddled between Lexington and Tirpitz. Lexington, on the other hand, remained alert the whole night, coordinating air patrols. Not that it mattered—she was powerful enough to go ten days without sleep if necessary.
Tirpitz, of course, slept like a pig. If she didn't get twelve hours, she'd be groggy all day.
By the next morning, heavy clouds loomed overhead, and although Lexington still hadn't found anything unusual, they did run into multiple waves of Abyssal patrol fleets.
California was thrilled. She unleashed a storm of attacks, laughing wildly as she showed off the might of her rigging. Tirpitz had finally taught her a thing or two—California now knew how to compress her firepower. Rather than blasting everything in a wide radius like before, her shells now pierced like needles, only detonating with full force once they broke through enemy armor.
To be honest, at just over level ten, Hikaru didn't think California was at the stage where she needed to worry about advanced rigging techniques. But if it made her happy, that was good enough.
They continued hunting for three straight days, finishing their monthly missions. Hikaru was just considering whether they should head back to Windridge early when Lexington reported something new—her expression serious.
"We've found an enemy transport ship."
…
The Black Sea was calm. California scanned the waters.
"We're right on top of the coordinates, so where is the transport ship?"
Lexington ignored her and turned to Fletcher. "Anything?"
Fletcher nodded. "Roughly five thousand meters down. No sonar signal—it's a bit fuzzy. But there's only one contact. Seems like it's lost."
"Then let's take it out."
Fletcher activated her rigging. She tilted her head slightly, her cat-like ears twitching as if listening to the seabed. A moment later, she formed an energy spear the size of a torpedo and hurled it into the deep, slicing into the sea like a swordfish.
"Estimated intercept in about five nautical miles."
Watching these high-level shipgirls in action made Hikaru a bit uneasy. "Fletcher… tell me your anti-submarine depth charges aren't on the same scale as multi-megaton nuclear warheads, right?"
After all, water is hundreds of times denser than air, and nearly incompressible. Underwater explosions were exponentially more destructive than surface blasts.
If her payload really had nuclear-scale force, there wouldn't be any marine life left in a hundred-mile radius—and Hikaru would probably be facing a court-martial.
"No, no," Fletcher said quickly. "You can think of our depth charges as more like tracking poison darts. They're just extremely effective against shipgirls. If we really wanted to cause a massive explosion... well, we could. But it's super inefficient."
As they spoke, Fletcher's eyes suddenly sharpened. She turned to Lexington.
"Hit confirmed."
California shot her hand up. "Confirmed hit, sure—but what happened next?"
(End of Chapter)
[50 Power Stones = Extra Chapter]
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