Veneto set down her coffee, perplexed. "Commander, I know the Airfield Princess and the Fortress Princess are huge threats—but why take a gamble that big to force-kill her? The risk far outweighs what she does to us."
When we spotted the Abyssal base entering the theater last night—bringing both Fortress Princess and Airfield Princess—everyone's hearts sank.
Hikaru's plan had been to lean on Quick Repairs and other consumables, plus Lexington's air group, to grind out a war of attrition. But once a Fortress Princess and an Airfield Princess arrive, half that plan collapses. Trying to outlast a land-based air arm and a shore fortress is like sending carrier aviation to duel inside someone else's airspace—or letting a ship posture in front of coastal guns. It's just foolish.
For the record: ship guns are generally larger than fixed coastal pieces, but that doesn't mean ships should tease coastal batteries. Looking at you, "mystery-confidence" Blücher.
Pressure or not, no one had seriously proposed a long thrust to assassinate the Airfield Princess. She's brutally hard to kill, and we barely have a dozen who can truly fight; the main line isn't even ten. Split that in two and you're begging to die faster.
So Veneto's confusion isn't wrong.
Bismarck glanced at Hikaru. "If you've fixed on the Airfield Princess, you've weighed something we haven't."
Her tone carried clean, unquestioning faith—like she'd march through hell for Hikaru and call it change for a gold piece, even if it cost her life.
"I do have reasons. Listen: five million Abyssals, fresh flagships rolling in—honestly, our odds are already small."
The room dimmed with that one sentence.
He wasn't wrong.
Even the cockiest shipgirl won't claim she can stand against five million enemies. Five. Million. One volley each and our island becomes paste.
How many are we? Count every strong and every weak, add Hikaru himself, plus visitors like Alaska—twenty-nine. Not even thirty.
Twenty-nine… versus five million.
One tiny naval base facing a force that could erase a nation.
Seeing morale dip, Hikaru smiled.
"We have trump cards—don't forget Elite Damage Control Fairies and Quick Repairs." He tapped the table. "And to drop the Airfield Princess, I've budgeted to burn over half our elite Damage Controls."
Hearts thumped. We have fourteen in total. "Over half" means the spearhead and the carrier group both "die" once.
It also made his intent crystal clear: the Airfield Princess must die.
Prince of Wales asked, "What makes her so special?"
Hikaru grinned and pointed at the horn on the table. "Her hat is probably worth three of these—maybe more."
Thud!
Yamato fell out of her chair and didn't even notice.
A thousand questions skittered through her head—chiefly: how does Hikaru know this so precisely?
Bismarck and the others, though, had long since grown used to Hikaru's "odd missions." They only flashed a look of sudden understanding—and resolve.
Bismarck clenched a fist. "If we can push three more to level 110, then Repulse and Prince of Wales—once they're 110—can anchor the base. Our chance of holding skyrockets."
That was Hikaru's play all along. Ever since we learned the Abyssal Yamato's horn could boost levels, he'd had another trophy mission in his sights.
The Airfield Princess's eagle-topped cap. Capture it, and the reward equals triple the Horn: 300 diamonds.
That's why Hikaru kept 480 in reserve. After boosting Hestia he still has 380; finish this trophy mission and it becomes 680. By the figures he's seen, that's enough to raise three shipgirls to 110—plenty. The only "problem" is that among our >100s, we mainly have Repulse and Prince of Wales ready to take that leap.
[End of Chapter]
[100 Power Stones = Extra Chapter]
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