"No—you matter. You deserve this power."
Hikaru said it to Vestal with quiet certainty, then glanced at Prince of Wales and Repulse. "I know you both want what this horn can do, but—"
"Use it as you see fit," Prince of Wales set down her wineglass, one brow arched. "I only want to know: what are you asking Vestal to do?"
Bismarck had already guessed a little. "You mean to… use her as bait…?"
Hikaru cut her off. "Let's get Vestal to level 100 first."
Since he'd decided, no one moved to block him. California and Moskva, green-eyed and sulky, nevertheless ushered the slightly flustered Vestal up to Hikaru. Even the guests—Alaska, Saint George, and Yamato—edged closer; if Hikaru didn't object, they meant to record this and report back to their factions.
They didn't get front-row spots, though. With Veneto, Prince of Wales, and the others standing around Hikaru, there was no squeezing past. (Thank goodness for Veneto's height—if she were taller, the outsiders wouldn't see anything at all.)
Veneto felt her heart give a tight little squeeze, frowned, and silently cursed Camicia for gossiping behind her back again.
In the center of the circle, under the steady, intimidating stares of Prince of Wales, Missouri, Bismarck and company, Hikaru held the horn in one hand and Vestal's hand in the other, and closed his eyes.
Following an instinct he couldn't name, a hundred diamonds' worth of energy liquefied, ran ice-cold up his left arm, and poured into the purplish-red horn.
Alaska let out a gasp.
The horn in Hikaru's palm flared with an eerie light, bright enough to drench the entire room—brighter still, to the point no one could look at it head-on. A fresh, fruity fragrance filled the air; Saint George and the other not-yet maxed shipgirls felt, just from one breath, that their EXP ticked upward.
The horn's allure spiked to something primal, as if it were whispering to them to snatch it.
Prince of Wales gave a thin, chilly smile. If Abyssals were the ones wielding this, there'd already be a bloodbath over who got to hold it.
Shipgirls were different. Their nature ran counter to the Abyssal's; they were pure, by nature kind. No matter how badly they wanted it, they wouldn't kill to take it.
Even so, her fingers tightened. She wanted it—badly. Was her value in this battle really lower than a level-100 repair ship's?
At the center, just as the horn's power surged to its peak, it suddenly drew tight and collapsed inward—then flowed into Hikaru.
He felt like a relay. A purifier.
The horn's power wasn't clean; there was grit in it—Abyssal residue from that slain Yamato's horn. Abyssal force ran contrary to a shipgirl's. But passing through Hikaru—the "filter"—it turned into something absolutely pure, safe to channel into a shipgirl.
The cold became warmth, and from his right hand it streamed into Vestal.
Hikaru paid the price. It was as if a billion ants were gnawing him from the inside—sour and prickling at once—as the Abyssal taint rampaged, only to be scrubbed away an instant later by power bought with diamonds, which in turn knit him back together.
Anyone else would have broken.
Even so, cold sweat sheeted his face; muscles rolled under his skin like trapped snakes.
The shipgirls knew something was wrong. Bismarck half-stepped forward, then checked herself—afraid a sudden move might hurt him. "What's happening—are you all right?"
"I'm fine. Don't worry."
Hikaru forced a smile.
He suffered; Vestal soared.
It felt like sinking into a perfect hot bath after a bone-tired day—no, a hundred times better.
And it was his power, flowing through his hand into her—warm, gentle…
Vestal's level rocketed: past the seventies, bursting through eighty, ninety—stopping only at a clean, solid 100.
To her, it felt far too brief. If only that feeling could last the whole day.
[End of Chapter]
[100 Power Stones = Extra Chapter]
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