When the Solomon Islands were mentioned, the most infamous shipgirl was without question Yuudachi.
Nicknamed "Poi," her name was often tangled up with crude jokes and short phrases that circulated endlessly.
That reputation came mostly from her hair, which resembled that of a canine—an unfortunate trait that earned her far too many ridiculous monikers.
Yet during the Second World War's Solomon Islands Campaign, Yuudachi fought like a chihuahua slipped off its leash… or rather, a fox terrier unleashed in a frenzy.
With the fall of the militarist government, her name gradually faded from public memory. Even so, she had accumulated no small amount of renown during the war.
In this world, fame and legend translated directly into power. That was precisely why the highly renowned destroyer Yuudachi, once "revived," would undoubtedly possess terrifying strength.
A scavenger's kind of power.
That was why Rhodes had come to the Solomon Islands, searching for the floating battleship he had dreamed of.
The capital, Honiara, differed greatly from the remote villages scattered across the archipelago. As the political and trade center of the islands, it bore the trappings of a modern city—something like Rio, though smaller, and with security even worse.
As the Infiniti sedan rolled into Honiara, an invisible wave of magical energy swept across Rhodes.
Resting his head on the soft, ample thighs of a maid, Rhodes' expression sharpened.
The magic carried no vitality. Instead, it reeked of decay. It felt eerily similar to what he had sensed in Faerûn—power wielded by something that commanded Negative Energy.
If he were still in Faerûn, he might have suspected a Lich.
But in this world, the more likely answer was the ever-proliferating Dead Apostles.
"Tch. A Dead Apostle…" Rhodes murmured, his tone calm but guarded.
Whether Dead Apostles or vampires, undead creatures shared one trait—they had endless time. Once you truly provoked them, they would pursue you to the ends of the earth.
Once humanity became nothing more than livestock, such beings transcended human law and morality entirely. An enemy without a bottom line was always the most troublesome.
The Infiniti came to a sudden halt.
"Master, someone is blocking the road," the maid in the driver's seat reported softly, murder in her voice. "Scans identify a Dead Apostle. Threat level extremely low. Shall I eliminate it, or have the others—"
"No need. Since the host extended an invitation, I should at least show some courtesy."
Rhodes smiled gently, though his mind was filled with curses.
This was a country of Black people. Vampires were notoriously picky. You rarely heard of one roaming Africa—yet here was an exception.
As the maid opened the door with practiced grace, Rhodes heard a voice seize the initiative.
"Mr. Rhodes, I've heard much about you."
The Dead Apostle appeared to be a refined gentleman in his late twenties, though his true age was clearly far greater.
"Oh?" Rhodes replied coolly. "I don't recall my reputation carrying as far as the ears of you little bats."
The hostility was deliberate. Rhodes adopted the affected arrogance of a Clock Tower noble, intending to bait the Dead Apostle into revealing more.
"That's unfortunate. It seems Mr. Rhodes is unfamiliar with the Dead Apostles under Van-Fem's banner."
The man shrugged, his smile tinged with bitterness.
"Our lord, Van-Fem of the Demon City, is deeply concerned with the preservation of human ecology. He assigned me to remain here long-term—collecting atmospheric circulation and cyclone data."
The Dead Apostle wore an expression of utter misery, but Rhodes offered no sympathy. Instead, he chuckled lightly.
"Mr. Van-Fem certainly has lofty ambitions. Beyond the comprehension of people like us. I still have business in the Solomon Islands, so let us part ways here."
Learning that this Dead Apostle served Van-Fem eased Rhodes' vigilance somewhat. Van-Fem was no herbivore, but his subordinates were famously restrained. In a place devoted to the Cross, the fact that this Dead Apostle had never drawn the Holy Church's ire spoke volumes.
"If Mr. Rhodes requires assistance, I would be glad to help," the Dead Apostle said deferentially, though something sharp flickered in his eyes.
"Oh?" Rhodes smiled. "And the price?"
His fingers brushed the antique pistol at his waist. The weapon bore the legend of assassinating Lincoln, granting it a formidable fame-based reinforcement. Even a ranked magus would be killed instantly.
"Some knowledge," the Dead Apostle replied lightly. "I require your research on 'magically enhanced weapons,' including methods for modifying modern arms."
Envy colored his tone.
"I believe Lord Van-Fem would be quite pleased with such a gift."
"Interesting. You're quite skilled at navigating people," Rhodes said with a faint laugh.
"Very well. A pleasure doing business. I need to salvage the destroyer Yuudachi from the Pacific, refurbish her with modern technology, add an external armor layer, and install cutting-edge radar and weapon systems."
"No problem at all. For Lord Van-Fem, who controls Las Vegas, any problem that money can solve is no problem at all."
The Dead Apostle spoke smoothly, delight spreading across his face.
If he pleased Lord Van-Fem, perhaps he could finally leave this island chain behind.
◇◇◇
Day rose and night fell.
In the study of a Las Vegas estate, a vigorous middle-aged man savored red wine while reviewing neatly written research documents.
"Oh? Rhodes… how interesting. Combining modern weapons with magecraft, just as I have envisioned. Another magus unconcerned with honor, it seems."
At that moment, a folded sheet slipped free from the papers. Written boldly upon it were the words:
"On the Modification and Practical Application of Large-Scale War Golems."
"…This," he murmured, "is that child's gift?"
Van-Fem's lips curled into a feral grin. He rose abruptly, delight impossible to conceal.
"To possess such mastery over golems… who are you, really? Hohenheim—or Avicebron?"