Yamato sailed alone across the boundless sea.
Arms crossed and a cigar in her mouth, she cut a dashing figure—but her expression was deeply troubled.
Looking ahead, she could already see dense thunderclouds gathering in the southern skies.
With Yamato's experience, she could tell at a glance: this was a sign that the Abyssal fleet was assembling.
Who could be important enough to warrant such a grand mobilization? After thinking it through, the only answer she could arrive at was Hikaru and his group.
Just as Yamato was narrowing her eyes and gazing into the distance, a streak of white tore through the dark waters beneath her feet, shooting up toward her like a blazing star.
It was a torpedo attack from an Abyssal submarine.
But for someone like Yamato, one of the top-ranking figures in the shipgirl headquarters responsible for East Asia, such an attack was nothing worth worrying about.
She didn't even blink. The torpedo that neared her was instantly incinerated like a mosquito flying into a bug zapper, turned to ash and falling harmlessly into the sea.
Far away, several nautical miles below the waves, a golden-eyed, white-haired Abyssal submarine shuddered violently and dissolved into foam, vanishing into the dark ocean.
Having casually swatted away the "little fly," Yamato didn't continue forward. Instead, she came to a halt.
Standing upon the vast black sea, she raised her voice and spoke clearly.
"You've been tailing me for quite some time now. Don't you think it's time you came out?"
The sea breeze was gentle, the air moist and tinged with salt. Only the sound of wind brushing over waves could be heard—no one responded to Yamato.
But she was certain someone was lurking nearby.
"Don't waste my time. I'm busy as hell lately."
Yamato took a deep drag from her cigar. Holding it between her fingers, she flicked the burning tip with her fingertip. It was as if a blade sliced across it—the ash fell silently to the sea.
After carefully placing the remaining half of the cigar into a small case, the hidden figure finally appeared.
She surfaced from below.
Yamato narrowed her eyes at the figure and asked in surprise, "Indiana? Weren't you supposed to go to the East China Sea with your Commander? Why are you following me?"
The figure before her was tall, with bronze skin—none other than Indiana, the marriage ship of Fleet Admiral Gorou.
She was in terrible condition, enough to startle Yamato.
Indiana usually gave off the vibe of a cowboy from the Sunset Mountains of the New World—always sunny, cheerful, and full of life.
And having accompanied the Fleet Admiral through a centuries-long journey, the forty-something-looking Indiana carried a calm grace that no young girl could match.
That was the gift that time gave in return for taking away youth.
But the Indiana standing before Yamato now looked like a completely different person.
Her face was clouded with worry, her mood low, her spirit crushed—she looked like she had aged ten years overnight.
In response to Yamato's question, Indiana lightly slapped her own cheeks and forced a smile. "I'm here for the same reason as you."
Yamato instantly became wary. "You're also looking for Hikaru and the others?"
"That's right," Indiana nodded. "The events that day were far too suspicious. I think it's necessary—"
"There's no need!" Yamato cut her off sharply. "Even a fool can see Hikaru was framed. Your Commander's just pretending to be blind to the truth. Leave. If you follow me any further, I'm afraid we'll start a war right then and there."
Indiana gave a bitter smile. "That day, when Hikaru escaped, I actually helped pave the way for him."
"So what?" Yamato retorted. "Who knows if that wasn't part of some trap your Commander laid out? A trick to let the prey think they're free before the net tightens?"
"Yamato… is that really what you think of me?" Indiana shook her head, then added softly, "Yamato, I've watched you rise to where you are now."
Indiana had existed for nearly two hundred years—much longer than Yamato.
She could still remember when Yamato first arrived. Back then, she was like a porcupine bristling with spines—young, hot-blooded, and ready to ram anyone who got too close.
Bringing up their past like this was Indiana's way of showing vulnerability… even pleading.
[End of Chapter]
[100 Power Stones = Extra Chapter]
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