Star Spirit's blind faith in seastone was beyond anything Roya could even bother mocking anymore.
"Ah—forgot this battleship is also made entirely of seastone. Guess I'll have to scrap it!" Star Spirit's voice echoed in his mind again. "Or… should I go look under the sea? I remember some human shipwright once built a smaller replica of it. No idea which ocean trench I sank it into, but I can find it for you in no time!"
Hearing that, Roya was at a loss for words.
The replica he was talking about was probably that legendary battleship constructed in Water 7. It was indeed an extraordinarily powerful warship—but unlike this seastone vessel, any other ship would have rotted away after sitting on the seabed for centuries. Digging it up now would be like salvaging scrap metal.
Just as Roya was about to politely decline this "kind offer," he suddenly sensed something—there was a faint ripple of consciousness coming from inside the battleship.
"Wait… this thing is alive?"
Roya's heart skipped a beat. The presence was so faint and fragile that he didn't dare probe it directly with his spirit sense, for fear the little thing might panic and accidentally smash itself against the sheer force of his perception.
Then Star Spirit suddenly paused in surprise. "Huh? Why is there a little fragment of my copy inside this battleship?"
With that, Roya relaxed. He swept it with his spirit sense, confirming the nature of the consciousness. It was indeed of the same origin as Star Spirit—whether you'd call it a "copy" or not was a matter of perspective.
A flash of insight struck him. Beyond its immense strength, malleability, and ability to counteract black sludge, seastone likely had another, far more terrifying property—
It could carry consciousness itself.
That most intangible of things—abstract yet undeniably real—could be housed within this material.
It was probably for this reason that the advanced alien civilization forged their green-flame skeletons entirely from seastone. Not only would their bodies be nearly indestructible, but they might also achieve immortality of consciousness.
Perhaps in the eyes of that alien race, flesh was pathetically frail—ascension into a seastone skeleton was the one true path.
"The more essential seastone is to these plunderers, the more room I have to maneuver."
Resolved, Roya sent a thought to Star Spirit: "I'll be taking this battleship with me. In the future, if anything comes up, you can use the… let's call it the ship's soul… to contact me."
"Since the ship's soul is of the same origin as you, as long as we're on the same planet, it should be easy for you two to communicate directly."
Star Spirit didn't answer, but the ship's soul suddenly became much more active. Clearly, it had already been linked to Star Spirit's consciousness.
A clear thought then rippled out from the Pluto itself:
"Ship's soul… I feel like you're insulting me."
"Well, the consciousness link's a little sluggish, but it works. Until I recover my full shaping ability, I'll stay in touch with you through this setup."
"Oh, and by the way—this battleship doesn't have a propulsion system. You'll have to figure that out yourself. I can't be pushing your boat with seawater all the time."
Roya gave a scornful laugh. "What era do you think this is? A seastone battleship needing a propulsion system? You're sitting on a mountain of treasure without knowing how to use it!"
"From your own memories, it's obvious the population of those green-flame alien skeletons is extremely limited. For all we know, there might only be one aboard the whole pyramid ship."
"So, how do you think that one guy pilots the ship?"
Even as he spoke, Roya's spirit sense surged outward, linking with the ship's soul.
The entire seastone battleship became like an amplifier for his spirit sense, channeling that pure, energy-based projection into every part of its hull.
The Pluton shuddered violently—like it had just shed all its weight—its displacement instantly dropping to zero as it began to skim eerily over the ocean's surface.
Star Spirit was astonished. "Roya, how the hell did you do that?! If I'd had this technique back then, I would have—"
"You'd still have been played like a fool by the green-flame skeletons," Roya interrupted with a chuckle.
With a thought, the Pluto shot toward Mary Geoise like lightning.
As the massive vessel roared across the waves, every single one of its countless cannons spun wildly, aiming at imaginary enemies.
That wasn't Roya's doing—it was Star Spirit, now getting a feel for this spirit-energy control, goofing around like a kid with a new toy.
After all, Star Spirit was the will of the planet itself, an entity of pure consciousness whose sheer energy defied all conventional measure. Once introduced to the delicate techniques of manipulating spirit energy, he quickly displayed staggering control.
It wasn't until Mary Geoise came into view that he finally sighed in satisfaction. "If this didn't slow my energy recovery, I'd almost want to ditch my body and just live in this battleship forever."
Roya shook his head with a laugh. "If you lit yourself with green fire, you could probably pass yourself off as an alien reaper emperor. Who else could flaunt a one-kilometer-long seastone body?"
The Pluton jolted and slowed down.
"Don't say stuff like that—you'll give me nightmares! I'm out. Call me if you need me!"
The ship's soul's energy level plummeted as Star Spirit severed the link.
Roya instantly felt the drop—his spirit-energy-to-motion conversion efficiency had been halved. The Pluton settled back into the water and slowed noticeably.
Even so, its speed and maneuverability still outclassed every other ship on the planet.
And since the ship's soul's energy level was directly tied to the battleship's performance, Roya had already accounted for this.
Unbothered, he steered the vessel onward alone.
"One of those mutant beasts is nearby. I'll take it out before heading back to Mary Geoise."
With a thought, the Pluton turned smoothly toward one of the coordinates Star Spirit had shared.
At that same moment, the patrol ships cruising near Mary Geoise spotted the colossal warship—like a floating island—on the horizon.
By pure coincidence, the officer in command of this patrol was none other than Vice Admiral Smoker, recently reassigned to headquarters.
Through his spyglass, Smoker caught sight of the Pluton's full silhouette—and was so stunned that the two cigars clamped between his teeth dropped straight to the deck.
Along with his ass.
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