Seeing she had successfully frightened the girl, Alaska felt rather pleased with herself. She strummed the strings of her guitar, letting out a few sharp metallic notes, before lazily saying, "Well? Out with it. Who's looking for me? I'm busy!"
Alaska's tavern was already famous throughout the City. Plenty of overconfident Commanders came here hoping to recruit a shipgirl, and Alaska was sick of seeing them.
But Deutschland was hopeless when it came to rejecting people. Whenever someone pleaded with her pitifully, she would panic and run back to report to her "sisters"—sometimes even going so far as to seek advice from Blücher, who was only a heavy cruiser.
That kind of unreliable little girl insisting she was a "capital ship" was almost laughable.
Deutschland shifted her mop behind her back. The nervous look on her face faded, replaced with open admiration.
"It's Saint George! The dragonslayer hero! I don't know why she came here, but she's asking for you. Do you know her?"
Know her? Of course not.
Alaska rubbed her face, stood up, and said, "Take me to her."
She had a good guess why Saint George would come.
The knight's arrival whipped the food street into a frenzy. Crowds surged like waves, trying to glimpse her figure—vendors even abandoned their stalls to join the throng.
From above, the brightly lit night market looked like the whole city was being pulled toward the whirlpool center of the food street.
It was the worst of times for ordinary people, but for heroes, it was the best of times.
And Saint George was such a hero.
Her solitary charge deep into the Abyssal stronghold—the legendary "dragonslayer" exploit—had spread across the entire world.
Everyone longed to see her. And now, who would have thought the living legend had arrived here?
Coming out from the back room, Alaska immediately picked Saint George out of the crowd.
Not because she stood at the center, adored like the brightest star, but because she herself was dazzling beyond compare.
Saint George was tall, with deep blue eyes and waves of golden hair. But what drew the most attention was her figure—so voluptuous that one worried her corset might snap at any moment.
Though the onlookers' fervor bordered on fainting, not a single person dared to step within three meters of her. Those in front were practically crushed forward by the crowd, yet somehow kept themselves from crossing that invisible line.
It wasn't courtesy, nor fear of the cold gleam of the longsword in her hand. It was something intangible—an aura.
Saint George, patron saint of England, carried the same noble, saintly grace as her namesake. Yet the sword in her hand radiated a ruthless decisiveness that only heightened the awe surrounding her.
It was the kind of reverence born of terror at defiling something sacred.
Even Alaska felt herself shrink in comparison.
She might love death metal, wild drinking, and lived as a mole hidden for years, but she knew she was still just a good-natured shipgirl.
Saint George was not.
She was a battle fanatic.
They said she was barely ten years old since her manifestation, but already strong enough to dive into Abyssal territory and fight her way back out alive. One could imagine what those ten years had been like for her.
And just as Alaska noticed Saint George, the latter also noticed her.
Saint George stepped forward. "Take me to Kuramoto Hikaru."
Boom!
The crowd erupted like an explosion.
If Saint George's presence alone was like a spark setting the mountain ablaze, then those words were a tactical nuclear blast.
Official propaganda had downplayed who Tirpitz's admiral was. But the people of this city, especially around the academy? Of course they knew.
Over on the shopping street, there was even a store selling shipgirl merchandise, with a massive photo of Hikaru kissing Tirpitz on the wall. That shop had become a shrine of sorts. Every citizen with even a little spare cash would go there to pay their respects—and take home some Tirpitz souvenirs.
That store, which had been on the verge of collapse when Hikaru visited, was now selling out of stock every single day.
And the reason the townsfolk chased after those goods was obvious—because they came from the very place where the world's strongest shipgirl had left her mark.
[End of Chapter]
[100 Power Stones = Extra Chapter]
[Check out my Patreon to read 20+ chapters ahead]
[[email protected]/BellAshelia]
[Thanks for your support!]