I do not own Azur Lane. Azur Lane is owned by Shanghai Manjuu and Xiamen Yongshi. Original Characters are owned by me. This is a shipboy/male kansen fic, but I promise I won't make them overpowered. Hopefully not, anyway. I guess you can make of that what you will.
It was a peaceful morning. The sun shone, the trees swayed in the wind, and the birds sang. Brest was isolated in a private room of the cathedral, hard at work on her latest piece.
Or at least she had hoped that was the case anyway.
The events of a few nights ago constantly plagued her thoughts.
For every new burst of inspiration, the memory of that dark hallway took her off focus. For every new line composed with serenity, the visage of the man and the riggings derailed Brest's thinking. For every stir of the pot of inspiration, the combined momentum of curiosity and fear was always double that.
It stuck with her every moment since that night. She discussed it with Cardinal Richelieu, who discussed it with her sisters Jean Bart and Clemenceau, and they came with no good answers either. Soon, a bit of eavesdropping by some of the destroyers led to the entire Orthodoxy navy being abuzz with speculation and rumours surrounding the mysterious figure.
Despite the riveting conversations, none of them helped her with her creative processes. Seeing that her stewing wasn't yielding any results, she decided to take a walk to clear her mind. Perhaps even, a burst of inspiration could be found along the way.
Brest walked down the hallway of the cathedral and exited into the courtyard. Despite not having any general direction in mind, she decided to head for the office on the other side. As she walked, Brest caught a glimpse of the flowers within the garden bed, a few meowfficers playing around in the grass, and Émile Bertin practicing her dance moves alongside them. Brest greeted her and continued.
Entering the other side of the building and walking through the hallways, she noted every shipgirl and what they were doing. As far as Brest could see, there was an interesting contrast in everyone's energy present that morning.
She saw Le Malin and her lazy self lying on a couch playing on her console, with Tartu beside her seemingly lost in her inner world. Béarn ran past her, carrying a stack of papers as Suffren huffed and puffed behind her, pleading for her to slow down. In another room, Lyon was stirring a cauldron with Maillé Brézé watching as the green and suspiciously glowing liquid stirred. In contrast, Alsace sat in the room opposite with a mountain of paperwork at her desk alongside Mogador while a fan in the corner worked overtime.
Half of the shipgirls were lounging around, tending to their hobbies and interests, while the other half were frantically rushing around with papers in their arms and calls coming through constantly.
Finally, Brest reached the hall where HQ was located. She saw Algérie and Foch playing a game of chess on one table, while Painlevé was getting her fortune read by Guichen as Dunkerque pushed a tray of freshly baked sweets to and fro. Not having much else to do, she decided to sit down with them and observe their activities.
The aroma of the pastries filled the air, creating a friendly atmosphere that allowed her to relax. Foch glanced up from the chessboard and flashed Brest a quick smile before focusing on the game again. Guichen also waved toward the shipgirl as she continued her scrying with the crystal ball. Painlevé sat opposite her, her brow furrowed in concentration as she listened to the witch's words of wisdom.
Soon, their session ended, and Brest gravitated to them as their attention turned to her.
"Greetings Brest, how is your latest paean shaping up?" Guichen asked as she put away the crystal ball.
"Slowly, but surely. I'm sure I can find the right inspiration in time," Brest replied.
Painlevé clasped her hands together, "That's wonderful to hear! I pray that you're able to find the inspiration soon," she said with a smile.
Brest returned the smile, but mused, "Hmmm, it is getting quite tricky to come up with lines though… Perhaps it's the topic that's the problem,"
Guichen raised her eyebrow, "Oh? What about the topic?"
"Well, it's about the hero's state of mind," Brest paused, searching for the right words, "You see, he's been through so many trials and tribulations that his soul would be in turmoil…"
"And what would be the problem with that?" Painlevé asked, her head tilting slightly.
"…how does one depict… a soul?"
That made Guichen and Painlevé stop for a second. Both found themselves at a loss for words as they started thinking through the question. They stuttered and murmured their thoughts aloud about the matter, but couldn't seem to come to a decisive answer. Before Brest could reassure them and end the conversation, a voice spoke up behind her.
"A soul, hmm?" it was Dunkerque, carrying a new tray of sweets, her eyes focused on the group, looking entranced by the sudden shift in conversation, "Ah! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to eavesdrop!"
"It's quite alright. In fact, would you have any insights to share?" Brest asked
The battlecruiser waved her hand, "Oh I'm certain it's not much, the just topic interested me, is all,"
"Nonsense," Brest reassured, "Any insight is valuable. After all, if you can think about it, you have something to say about a soul, no?"
Guichen nodded, "That's right, there's no wrong answers when it comes down to it,"
Dunkerque sat down at an empty seat, and she joined the conversation. And then they talked, and talked, and talked. The discussion lasted long enough for Algérie and Foch's chess game to end, and for them to join in as well.
Brest observed as the conversation slowly began to shift topics. They went from discussing how a soul would be depicted, to questioning the nature of a soul itself and other philosophical questions. Everyone was invested in it, each shipgirl offering opinions and viewpoints while taking in others. And of course, Brest ended up joining in, if not to clear her mind, then because she was genuinely intrigued by the concept.
She could feel the weight of the writer's block being lifted off her shoulders the more she talked. These kinds of conversations and their lightheartedness were a welcome experience, and she was keenly listening to everybody's opinions. The main chemistry within the conversation lay in everybody's viewpoints. While everybody at the table believed in a soul's existence, they disagreed on its make.
Algérie posited a simple answer: that the soul and the self were one, that thinking about the soul was tandem with thinking about oneself rather than the soul and consciousness being separate. Foch believed that the soul was not made of a substance, but rather was made of all the events that happened throughout life, and thus was constantly changing as opposed to having a fixed existence. Guichen's viewpoint was similar but also argued that the soul was tied to one's memories and consciousness, which meant a soul could be formed from belief alone. Painlevé subscribed to the idea that the soul existed eternally and immaterially outside the body, possibly existing after death itself. Dunkerque was most interested in the idea that the soul was just another expression of the universe like material things, and that understanding the soul was the universe understanding itself.
Brest was listening along with wonder and curiosity, but her sensitive ears also picked up commotion from within Richelieu's office, possibly an argument. She tried to tune it out and then realized that she hadn't yet put forth her opinion. Brest thought about the question and pondered many ideas about experience, life, death, and existence as she tried to find an answer. Eventually, she said–
"Saintess, there you are!" A voice behind Brest startled her, and she turned around to see Strasbourg, one of the newer ships within the Orthodoxy.
"Oh- uh… yes?" Brest could only sputter back.
"Apologies for startling you, but the Cardinal has requested to see you" Strasbourg's words came out in a professional tone.
"I see, of course. I'll be right there." Brest said as she rose from her seat.
Acknowledging everyone with a smile and a wave, Brest went up to the door to Richelieu's office. The door slammed open, and Kersaint rushed out with a stack of papers, looking as though she would pass out any second.
Ring. Ring.
Brest walked in and saw all the Richelieu sisters standing around a table. The door closed behind her. A phone was on the desk, ringing fervently until Richelieu pressed a button and muted it.
"Good morning, Brest," Richelieu greeted.
"Good morning to you, Cardinal," Brest returned the greeting, trying to ignore the weary expression on Richelieu's face, "…I have a feeling that this is about last night, no?"
Clemenceau said, "But of course, it's all that everybody's talking about today." Her expression was the same old cryptic smile. Jean Bart's was guarded, and Gascogne's wasn't anything more than neutral.
Ring. Ring. Click.
"Just a quick question…?"
Brest listened closely, ready to respond.
"Were you followed when you returned from the mission?" Clemenceau's tone fell slightly.
"Eh? I… don't believe so… There didn't seem to be anyone else but us," Brest's eyes began to narrow as she sensed the hidden tension in the air. "Why do you ask?"
Clemenceau looked to Richelieu, whose expression became unnerved.
"Ever since you returned from the facility, we have been detecting unknown vessels encroaching into our waters almost constantly," Richelieu explained. "They haven't gone too far into our territory, but their presence has been keeping us up ever since,"
Clemenceau continued, "Given their isolated nature and the timing at which they happened, we're convinced they aren't Sirens." Her cryptic smile fell and her face held a frown of concern, the first that Brest had ever seen from the battleship.
Brest nodded, and then her mind suddenly returned to what she saw. The cold hallway, the blaring alarms, the figure standing behind a glass wall with an iron gaze, the mysterious rigging floating behind him. There was a slight loss of colour in her face, as she began to realize.
Her voice quieter and shakier, she said, "T-this… you think these incidents are related to what happened in the facility, don't you?"
This time, Jean Bart spoke up. "Just to be clear, you're certain that you saw someone out there while exploring?"
"Yes, quite sure."
Clemenceau continued, "And this person, a man, had Kansen riggings behind him, correct?"
Brest nodded, "I saw them for myself."
"Anyone else see him?" Jean Bart took over, as her eyes narrowed.
Brest paused. "Not that I can recall, Marseillaise didn't notice him, nor did anyone else in the squadron."
The room got quieter, each shipgirl pondering the implications of her statement. Suddenly, Gascogne spoke up,
"Proposal: Inform the Commander and the other factions about this phenomenon. Analysis indicates such an action would be beneficial to remove unknown variables,"
Ring. Ring.
Richelieu sighed at the sound, her expression falling as she clicked the phone on the desk. "I feel that's already happening to an extent. Whatever these signals are, our allies have caught wind of them." She groaned. "Queen Elizabeth has been calling me nonstop about this. The rest of the Royal Navy seems quite caught off guard by this too."
Jean Bart scoffed. "Why don't you just tell her off, then?"
Richelieu turned to her sister. "I would do no such thing! Regardless of how they treated us in the past, the support they gave us during the World Expo has made them fellow allies."
"Just saying." Jean Bart said as she shrugged her shoulders.
"It wouldn't help much either. This seems to be a completely foreign phenomenon, and I doubt the Commander or anyone would know anything useful. Furthermore, bringing this much attention to ourselves may prove disastrous, especially after the World Expo," Clemenceau weighed in.
Ring. Ring.
Jean Bart clicked her tongue at the noise, and slammed her fist down on the phone, causing it to silence again.
"Perhaps we should at least hear her out to soothe their worries. And it would at least get rid of this constant distraction." Brest decided to chime in, her ears twitching every time the phone started its ruckus.
"Then how much information do you think we should divulge to them?" Richelieu asked with sincerity in her voice.
"Perhaps just enough, so we can achieve both transparency and secrecy at the same time,"
"And how do we know they won't go digging for more? Not like the end of the world would ever stop all the scheming that everybody's been up to…" Jean Bart said as she subtly turned towards Clemenceau.
Ring. Ring.
Richelieu rubbed her temples, Jean Bart glared at the receiver, and the mood within the room crumpled at the sound. Gascogne went up to the phone to shut it off again, only to stop when she glanced at the display.
"Cardinal, the person calling you isn't Queen Elizabeth," she said.
Richelieu perked up, then turned to the phone she had so desperately tried to keep out of her sight. She leaned over and took a closer look, and her eyes widened.
"H-hold on, then who… is this?" Richelieu said as her brow furrowed at the situation.
Everyone gathered near the phone, and sure enough, Brest saw the label displayed: 'Unknown Number'. Clemenceau appeared deep in thought, Gascogne was facing the Cardinal as she awaited orders, and Jean Bart's face was a mixture of suspicion and anxiety. Richelieu tapped the device and scrolled through the call logs, and her eyes reflected the suspense bubbling up in the room.
Ever since the break of dawn, long after Richelieu's last conversation with the Royal Navy, the number appeared and called again and again. Everything from then was filled with failed attempts to get the Cardinal's attention.
"But I thought it was…" Richelieu's voice faltered slightly, "Who on earth would be this persistent…?"
"Well, I suppose there's no point delaying it. They don't seem too phased by our silence," Clemenceau turned to Richelieu. The Cardinal took a deep breath and picked up the phone.
…
"…Hello?"
…
There was silence from her, and Brest couldn't hear any sound coming from the device either. Jean Bart gestured to Richelieu, who turned on the speaker. And when she did, the room heard…
nothing
No sound, no voice, just the whirring of the fan within the office. Then, just as she was about to put the phone down, Richelieu flinched at a sudden voice coming through.
"...Cardinal Richelieu," the voice said. It was male, and its tone was even and calm. Brest could feel her blood grow colder with the rest of the room.
"...W-who is this?" Richelieu questioned.
"There are bigger things to worry about at the moment," the voice said as everyone leaned in to hear better.
"...Like what?"
"In a few moments, your sensors will detect a Siren fleet making an incursion into your territory."
"Wha…!?"
"Your defences will fail, your forces will be overpowered, and you will have no choice but to evacuate all your shipgirls into the ocean."
"..."
Beep.
It was as though the air in the room went out. The silence was deafening and Brest felt a cold, sinking feeling within her chest. She looked at the others and saw they were in a similar state. Their faces were a slurry of uneasiness and grit, a mixture of both determined retaliation and unspoken fear.
Clemenceau turned to Brest and Gascogne, "It seems we'll need some time to regroup, you're dismissed," she said without any of the elusiveness that she normally possessed.
Brest nodded, and Gascogne bowed slightly as they both exited the office. Brest looked back and saw Richelieu still clutching the phone, stuck in the same pose like she was frozen in time.
She entered back into the hallway, her mind still caught in a storm of thoughts. She looked back to the table group and saw that they were still engaged in their conversation. She sighed and went back to sit down with them and continue, hoping that she could distract herself as a cold feeling of dread seeped into her core.
Brest didn't say much, only delivering once-in-a-while comments and responses. Her ears picked up a faint commotion from within the office, but she tried her best to shut it out before her thoughts swallowed her whole. Despite her best attempts to hide how shaken she was, she could see everybody start to notice. The way Algérie sneaked glances at her, the way Foch tried to coax her back into the conversation, the way Painlevé and Dunkerque's started to match her silence.
Just before the discussion could grind to a halt, everyone heard a pair of footsteps rushing down the hall, followed by a crash. When Brest looked over, she saw Marseillaise and Strasbourg, both on the ground and rubbing their foreheads.
"M-Marseillaise!?" Strasbourg could only muster.
"Agh… My sincerest apologies, Strasbourg, but is Clemenceau in the office right now!?" Marseillaise frantically sputtered.
"Ah-? Well, yes, but-"
"Thank you! I need to see her right away!"
"Wait- but why-" Strasbourg couldn't even finish her sentence before the door to the office slammed shut after Marseillaise rushed inside. From within, Brest could hear something frantic going on, and her stomach was left in knots.
Then, as she tried to focus in on the muffled conversation, she picked up enough fragments to cause her blood to freeze over:
Sensors, massive fleet, Siren.
The phone call…
"Well, that was… unexpected," Algérie said.
Guichen leaned closer to Brest and asked, "Would you happen to know what they're talking about in there?"
Brest froze. She contemplated how to respond, whether to tell them the truth or keep it hidden. Her mind raced, weighing the consequences of each choice. The truth was unsettling, something that could shake the fleet's morale. But would hiding it be any better? If the fleet could be put in danger, perhaps they deserved to know…
Taking a deep breath, she turned to Guichen and decided on a compromise.
"Well… partly," Brest said.
Guichen raised her eyebrows, and the table fell silent.
"The Cardinal told me that there were some… intrusions recently. It's possible this could be another Siren attack," Brest answered. She hoped it was enough to satisfy their curiosity, or at least keep them occupied.
"I see. Sounds serious," Foch said, her usually playful demeanour replaced with a more serious one.
"Could this… be related to the 'encounter' you had?" Algérie asked.
Painlevé perked up, "Eh? What do you mean by 'encounter'?"
"You hadn't heard?" Dunkerque replied, "Brest apparently ran into someone while exploring the facility,"
The battlecruiser continued, "I've been hearing so much gossip from within the port. Some are saying it was a ghost, others are saying it was a new type of Siren, and a few are even saying that it had riggings of some kind…"
Brest froze up again, and Painlevé tilted her head, "Riggings? Like what we have?"
"Hold on, I thought you said the figure looked like a male-"
BBBBRRRRRIIINNNNNNGGGGGGG
Before Foch could finish, an ear-piercing alarm rang throughout the hallway, making the entire table group jolt upright. The door to the office slammed open, and out stood Richelieu, with a grave expression on her face.
"All ships, we're under attack! Head to the port to deploy your riggings and prepare for combat!" Richelieu yelled as she brought out the blue-white-red tri-colour of the Orthodoxy.
Jean Bart went to the other side of the hallway to alert everyone else, while everyone else bolted outside. There, Brest saw every shipgirl of the Iris Orthodoxy activate their riggings and head out to sea, awaiting further orders. Despite the dire circumstances, she had to admit it looked magnificent, seeing a nation once divided now rallying under a united banner.
With equal haste, Brest concentrated and summoned her riggings, slim and elegant white and gold superstructures with her eight 330 mm guns mounted on two quadruple turrets. They instantly came alive as she skated over the water and joined the rest of the group.
They were split into several groups that broke off and went to cover their assigned areas. Brest was within the same group as Richelieu and was close enough that she could see the Cardinal's conflicted emotions as the reports flooded in from the others.
The communication between them was thankfully up to speed. The situation was as clear as the sunny sky above the port; a massive fleet of Sirens was detected moving quickly towards the port. At least, that's what everybody seemed to believe. From the chatter, it was clear that no one was aware of the phone call.
Speaking of chatter, Brest's ears could pick up all the conversations from the other groups.
"Finally! Ahahah! This is going to be fun!" La Galissonnière said as she rushed forward with her battle axe in hand.
"A most ominous beginning. But my solemn charge remains unfazed," remarked Champagne.
"Brave soldiers, follow my lead!" Jeanne D'Arc yelled to her accompanying group of light cruisers and destroyers.
Eventually, all the shipgirls organized themselves into several large fleets. Brest was within the biggest one, with Cardinal Richelieu at the center giving out orders. Clemenceau and her fleet headed to check on the defensive line, with Suffren, Strasbourg, Dupleix, L'Audacieux, and Kersaint. Jean Bart headed the vanguard line comprised of cruisers and destroyers and went forward to establish a secondary defensive line, in case the port's defenses failed.
Soon, an eerie silence settled in as they waited for any updates. Other fleets started to fan out, looking in all directions for the purported Siren fleet. But nothing came from them either. They kept sailing, inhaling the smell of seaspray and feeling the ocean breeze in their hair before battle.
While not too adept with her newly equipped radar, Brest was still doing her part in searching. Her eyes were trained on the equipment, ready to sound the alarm if she saw anything hostile. Yet still, nothing turned up on the screen. Just empty swaths of an ocean.
She sighed, looking over to Marseillaise, who looked even more unnerved at the silence. Brest felt like she was getting déjà vu. Glancing at everyone else in her fleet, it didn't look like anyone was having luck. Lots of grumbling and tapping could be heard, yet Brest could see none of it was getting any results.
She went over to the light cruiser, "Marseillaise, what were you so worried about at the office?" Brest said as she tried to ignore the bags under her fellow's eyes.
She hesitated, then said with a low voice, "On the radar… I saw a fleet of Siren ships. There were hundreds…"
"Where did you see them?" Brest asked as she steeled herself.
"Well… they were all around us, but maybe they were further out…?," Marseillaise rubbed her temples. Brest took a deep breath.
"I see… Well I suppose we'll have to find out the hard way," she began, "Oh and one more thing…"
Marseillaise perked up, "Please try to avoid overworking yourself, you look exhausted," Brest said with concern in her voice.
"Huh… It's easier said than done, Saintess. Especially with everything going on now, I feel like we've gotten ourselves involved in something we shouldn't have…"
Just then, Clemenceau's voice came through their communications.
"Cardinal, there's been a development that needs your attention."
"Clemenceau, what is it?" Richelieu said as she put her full attention on the radio.
"Our defensive lines have been destroyed, we're retreating to your position," The battleship's words hung in the air for a while, before the Cardinal finally responded.
"D-destroyed? By the Sirens?"
"We didn't see anyone around, but all of it was thoroughly destroyed. The walls, the turrets, the sensors, and everything else. We decided not to risk being ambushed and came back," Clemenceau explained.
Then another call came through. It was Jean Bart.
"Richelieu, we didn't find anything in our area. We're headed back to you,"
Brest looked over to the Cardinal, and it looked like her head was spinning.
"Roger that, keep your eyes open for any news," Richelieu responded, still trying to process all the information.
Soon, the other groups came in with similar reports. Jeanne D'Arc returned with nothing to report, Alsace returned with no unusual activity, and Flandre rejoined the fleet empty-handed. Mogador, Lyon, Dupleix, Joffre, nobody could see anything of note. Soon, the entire Iris Orthodoxy navy clustered within Richelieu's fleet, and she called any further searches off.
Brest's shoulders relaxed slightly, but also remained tense. She looked over to Marseillaise, whose cheeks were turning pink from the thought of accidentally sounding a false alarm. Richelieu sighed and summoned her hull, allowing the assembled navy to jump onto the deck and lounge about while waiting for further orders.
Brest leaned over on the handrail and stared out into the sea. Without an urgent threat to worry about, she decided to relax a little bit. The ocean waters were blue and pristine, the sun was still shining overhead, and the day looked splendid.
Other shipgirls were taking the time to relax and unwind as well, enjoying the therapeutic sight, while a select few bemoaned the lack of action. Richelieu still had her eyes scanning the radar, but even she seemed to be losing urgency as the screen showed an empty ocean again. Eventually, she stopped entirely, choosing to sit back and ponder her next move.
Conversations started up around her, creating a much more relaxed atmosphere than before while Brest closed her eyes as the warm sunlight washed over her face. And yet, the same lingering feeling of dread continued to loom over her. Marseillaise came next to her, and let out a big sigh.
"I was so sure I saw it…" she griped. Brest put a hand on her friend's shoulder reassuredly. Suddenly, a hint of curiosity sparked within her.
"...just a notion, but where did you see them?" Brest asked.
"It was supposed to be in front of us, a few kilometres away, but I lost track of them," Marseillaise chided herself.
Brest, absentmindedly, flipped open her radar. Whether it was to satisfy the growing curiosity about the missing fleet or to get rid of the uncomfortable feeling of anxiousness still growing within, she was only expecting, and hoping for, an empty radar screen unchanged from the past hour.
She did not expect to see a singular red dot, blinking ominously. Nor did she expect it to be in front of Richelieu's hull, some distance away. Nor did she expect for it to be moving directly for the shipgirls.
And yet, there it was.
Brest's heart dropped to her stomach, and she could only stare at the contact as it began to close the distance between them. Marseillaise looked over, and her eyes shot open. She opened up her radar and sure enough, she saw it too. She whirled over to Strasbourg, who was standing nearby.
"Open your radar!" was all that Marseillaise could shout. Strasbourg obliged despite being startled. And then she picked up something as well.
Other shipgirls who were nearby did the same, and each one reported on the red dot lingering on their sensors and radars. Richelieu, with renewed haste, prepared for battle as she drew her banner.
"All ships, prepare for combat! For liberty and glory! Aux armes, marchons!"
Soon, riggings were summoned, weapons were drawn, and shipgirls readied themselves to jump off the deck and engage the target, whoever or whatever it was.
Brest trained her eyes forward, attempting to make out anything unusual in front. When she still saw nothing, she checked the radar again, only to see that the red dot had disappeared. Others around her noticed as well and exclaims of shock rang through the air.
Suddenly, Clemenceau turned to the carriers, now sortieing their aircraft.
"Send your planes up and see if it's underwater. Surcouf, dive and use your sonar!" Clemenceau ordered as the fleet obliged and prepared for the possibility of a submarine ambush.
Volley after volley of aircraft launched into the air, and Surcouf went underwater soon after. Everyone sat around, prepared for any updates.
Suddenly, Surcouf shouted through the radio, "I see it! It's headed directly for us!"
Soon, the carriers were reporting similar observations. But Brest didn't need to hear anything else.
She could see it very clearly.
A wake from something beneath the surface started to rise, the telltale signs of an underwater vessel beginning to form.
With her heart pounding against her chest, Brest raised her guns and prepared to meet the foe head-on.
Then all of a sudden-
PPHHHOOOOOOOSSSSHHHHH
A massive plume of water exploded in front of the ship, and Brest saw the vessel gleaming in the sunlight. The front of it pointed up into the sky, and it started rising into the air.
It wasn't a submarine, it wasn't a Siren ship, it didn't even look like it belonged on the water.
It had an angular and geometric design, with sharp edges and a spear-like structure at the very front. The hull was light metallic silver, with darker shades painted on the underside, giving it a sleek appearance. Sky-blue lights illuminated the hull and superstructure, and there was a glow from directly behind it.
It began rising higher and higher into the air, forcing Brest to crane her neck up as the ship began to fly through the air. Now she could see how truly enormous it was, even managing to cast a shadow over the entirety of Richelieu's hull and then some.
As it passed over, a series of mechanical whirring and buzzing could be heard. Water poured out of crevices on the underside, showering all the shipgirls below, including Brest, as they continued staring up in awe.
It took a while to finally pass over them, and Brest could see a massive set of engines behind the ship, glowing blue. Finally, it landed in the water behind Richelieu and displaced tons of water, causing a huge splash as it whirled around at speeds nobody had thought possible.
Every shipgirl was frozen in place. Brest could faintly make out a gamma symbol on one of the superstructures. Jean Bart could only mutter, "What… the fu-"
She was cut off by another plume of water, this time to the side of Richelieu's hull. It was another one of the mysterious vessels, only this one was slightly smaller and sleeker in structure.
And then another one arose, on the opposite side. It was much bulkier and more angular than the previous two.
And then another one after that. Directly in front of them.
Unknown ships surrounded them in all directions, essentially trapping the entire Iris Orthodoxy navy into one spot.
Then, a flash of light appeared behind them. The ship at the stern end, the one that had quite literally jumped over the shipgirls, disappeared. All that was left was a field of blue sparks… and a light shooting up into the sky.
And it was arcing towards Richelieu's hull. Headed towards the bow.
Brest took a few steps back from the impact site and braced with her arms covering her face. Shipgirls like Jeanne D'Arc and Le Malin scurried out of the way just in time when the object slammed into the deck.
Blue electricity and smoke filled the tip of the bow. Brest uncovered her face, took a closer look at the object… and froze.
A man was there, on one knee and with his fists on the deck in a landing pose. He stood up and turned around to face the girls.
He was tall, wearing a silver jacket and pants with sky-blue tones, and a lowercase gamma letter glowing on his chest. His hair was short and well-kept, his eyes were glowing a bright blue with intricate patterns, and his face was locked in an emotionless state. A massive set of riggings was behind him and cast a light-blue glow on the otherworldly equipment.
Brest felt a wave of déjà vu slam into her like a truck. Cold water ran down her face; she couldn't tell if it was from the water splashed onto her or from a cold sweat. Her hands began to shake and tremble.
The man she saw in the facility that night. The man with the riggings. The figure haunting her for the past few days.
It was him.
Just FYI, upload schedule might be a bit wonky, so maybe subscribe if you're interested Also while you're waiting for the next chapter, maybe you can leave some constructive criticism and feedback for me to read! Thanks again!