Ruko was in bad shape. Though she relied on her agility to dodge the infernal flames raining down like celestial fire, to slip past the dragon's scorching breath, sweeping strikes, and the battlefield-choking attacks, when the demon dragon let out a roar laced with psychic shockwaves, her mind went blank for a critical split second.
That brief moment of disorientation cost her dearly—she couldn't avoid the infernal flame that fell with the rain. With a scream, she activated her rigging to shield herself, but it was too late—she was already in critical damage.
As a fragile destroyer-class shipgirl, she couldn't afford to take another hit.
Scanning the battlefield, she realized that in just this brief exchange, no fewer than ten high-level capital-class shipgirls had already sunk—some even max-level elites. Every second here was paid for in blood.
Ruko looked up. At some point, Abyssal Barbarossa had lowered the demon dragon's head to unleash a fan-shaped breath attack. She was now less than 500 meters above the surface.
There would never be a better chance than this.
Gritting her teeth, without even sparing a backward glance, Ruko turned into a streak of rainbow light and charged straight toward Barbarossa atop the dragon's head!
Like a radiant comet piercing the sky, the light streak illuminated the entire battlefield.
Everyone's attention was immediately drawn to that blazing arc of light, a meteor racing toward the heavens.
When the rainbow light dissipated, what emerged made every heart sink.
One of the demon dragon's horns had been broken—at the very least, a sign that some damage had been inflicted on Barbarossa.
But that was all.
Abyssal Barbarossa placed her hand on Ruko's head. A faint trace of admiration crossed her face.
"You… aren't bad."
Then her hand clenched.
Out on the sea, Fleet Admiral Gorou felt like his own heart had been crushed.
Choking back the pain that nearly sent him collapsing to the floor, he raised his hand like a red-eyed gambler placing it all on the line.
"Bombard!"
Nearly 40,000 bombers blanketed the sky, surging toward Abyssal Barbarossa. The tens of thousands of fighter jets that had been locked in a standoff with the Abyssal fleet also spiraled downward, strafing Barbarossa with their cannons.
But the Abyssal fleet's fighters didn't even try to intercept them.
Hikaru and the others immediately felt something was wrong.
Lexington spoke with a steady voice, "At most, Ruko's suicide strike could've done 200 points of damage. Launching a full assault now—it's too soon!"
Yamato, voice heavy, replied, "If we don't risk it now, we may never get another chance. Once the airstrike is done, it's our turn—battlecruisers, submarines, even heavy cruisers. This is it."
Tirpitz scoffed coldly, "Sending in everyone like some kind of family raid rarely ends well."
Yamato had no patience for banter. She was focused entirely on the outcome of the bombing run.
Barbarossa wasn't even deploying fighters to contest airspace—what was she relying on?
The answer came instantly.
From the Abyssal ranks, a figure drifted lazily into the sky. She was lying back on her rigging, which looked like a jet-black dragon. White-haired, red-eyed, golden light flickering along her equipment—Abyssal Tirpitz emerged.
She looked half-asleep, utterly disinterested.
But when she spread her arms wide, her power was undeniable.
The storm was swept away in an instant. The dark clouds vanished. The burning sun beamed down, baking the battlefield with scorching heat. The skies cleared—blue and endless, dazzling like glass.
Lexington's face grew tense. "Clear skies… How does Abyssal Tirpitz have Taihou's ability? This is bad!"
She called it bad—Fleet Admiral Gorou saw it as hopeless.
Just like shipgirls, Abyssal shipgirls could possess powers beyond logic. And Clear Skies Across the World was the signature ability of Abyssal armored carrier Taihou.
Under this ability, all carrier-based aircraft had their power massively reduced.
The sunlight poured down, and the once-ferocious squadrons of aircraft suddenly moved like they were flying through molasses. Their speed instantly halved. Worse, under the searing rays, they began to ignite, break apart, and plummet.
Such weakened planes had no chance of harming Abyssal Barbarossa. She even had the leisure to summon tens of thousands of flaming crossbursts—crimson explosions that burst like fireworks. Any aircraft touched by one fell from the sky within half a second.
Marshal Heizou stood beside the Fleet Admiral, hands ice-cold. The gamble had all but failed. Tens of thousands of elite shipgirls, nearly ten thousand Commanders—were they all about to die here?
To send in the submarine and finishing strike squads now… would be outright slaughter.
Gritting his teeth, he turned to the Fleet Admiral. "Sir, we have to retreat. I'll cover the withdrawal!"
[End of Chapter]
[50 Power Stones = Extra Chapter]
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