Yamato refused to believe what she'd just seen and heard.
This was a direct refit of a shipgirl.
Countless powerful shipgirls had been stuck for decades without a refit; to them, a warship refit core was practically a holy relic.
Take Blücher: in the records, the earliest Blücher could refit at level 30—yet there were countless successors who reached level 100 and still couldn't inherit the heavy cruiser's name through refit.
Half stunned, half cursing herself, Yamato thought it through.
She should've seen it earlier.
In the compendium, Lexington is four-star; the one at Hikaru's side is a golden five-star.
Tirpitz is five-star in the book; Hikaru's is six-star.
And Fletcher, Glowworm…
With so many post-refit girls around, how had she never connected the dots?
Maybe because the very idea of "warship refit cores" felt too outrageous to even imagine.
Fortunately, Hikaru had scolded Yamato earlier—that had been lesson enough; otherwise she'd be tugging his sleeve right now, begging to buy cores.
Since Hikaru understood it was just a misunderstanding, there was no need to dwell—especially with the Abyssal host still watching outside.
"I'm going back to summoning," Hikaru said, offering Repulse an apologetic smile. "Once the fighting's over, I'll throw you all a proper welcome banquet."
"Master, you're far too formal," Repulse answered with a soft smile. "I'll slip into maid mode now and take proper care of you."
What a girl, Hikaru thought, amused. After a few quick instructions to the others, he led a group back to the construction room.
First, they had to fix the big hole Prince of Wales had punched in the wall. Still, the way she'd rushed to him—Hikaru was a little moved.
Lexington and the rest stayed behind.
Watching Deutschland hugging the ship-cleaver like a treasure, Lexington's eyes narrowed, thoughtful.
Blücher looked up, tentative. "Could I… have my ship-cleaver back?"
Leipzig sprang forward, indignant. "Yours? You little thief—right now even you belong to me. Until you've made good the loss, you'll be happily working it off!"
Blücher gaped. "You won't believe it, but those cruiser refit cores moved on their own!"
"Leipzig, mind your tone—be polite."
After chiding Leipzig, Lexington added, "Still, she has a point. The Commander doesn't fuss over a bit of stock and a few cores, but as the head wife running this district, I have to keep the books. What's owed is owed."
Alaska swallowed. A "holy relic" like a refit core—who knew what price Lexington would quote?
But what's done is done. Even if they were going to be fleeced, they'd accept it; the United States would probably be happy to be fleeced—just look at Yamato's eyes.
You had to laugh or you'd cry, Alaska told herself.
Purely by cash value, it was hard to price.
Dismantling a cruiser core yielded only 300 units of fuel. Blücher had burned six—that translated to barely a bit over 300,000 Xia at market rates.
Say that out loud and people would die laughing.
But there was no need to open like a lion; and Lexington wasn't that sort.
She had another plan.
Casting a glance at the silently sword-polishing Saint George, Lexington smiled.
"Money later. Why don't we first see which of you meet the refit requirements using cores—so you can also lend us a hand against the Abyssals?"
At that, Yamato and the others' eyes lit up, and they hardened their resolve.
Even if it meant carrying a debt for thirty or fifty years, this golden chance to refit could not be missed.
Opportunities like this came once in a lifetime.
Hikaru sank into the memory of steel again.
Japan—tiny as a pellet—faced the enemies of the world and had to cook up plans that later looked insane.
For example, Japan insisted the future of naval war lay in decisive battleship action, and built what they called the strongest battleships on earth.
And in 1939, just days after war broke out in Europe, Japan set the United States as the hypothetical enemy and drafted a six-year naval expansion.
She was the only carrier among 80 ships, totaling 320,000 tons.
[End of Chapter]
[100 Power Stones = Extra Chapter]
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