"Freedom, come in! Do you copy me?" Ryan's concerned tone of voice reached Freedom's ears.
The shipboy slammed into the back of the Pilot he was chasing. He willed his wings to change configuration, aimed their sharp blades down, and thrust them hard into it. Then, with the help of his thrusters, he pushed them further in before tearing out a good chunk of the drone's hull.
"Ryan, what is it? I'm kinda busy!" He replied, jumping off the free-falling drone and resuming his flight.
"Richelieu is telling me that she has seen Tower!"
"No shit! I think we can all see her!" Freedom yelled as he dodged the beams of the other Pilot tailing him from behind.
"Not the giant whale, jackass! I'm talking about the vessel! Tower's humanoid body is inside her rigging!"
The shipboy's thrusters exploded with a burst of energy, and he performed a quick aerobatic loop that brought him behind the Pilot before calling out his rigging and shooting it down.
"What?!" He exclaimed. "Since when is that a thing?"
"I don't know, but if we take her out, her rigging will go down with her," Ryan said. "Of that, we are sure."
The silence that followed was louder than the engine in the shipboy's wings as he connected the dots.
"Are you serious?!" He yelled in disbelief. "Do you realize what you are asking me?!"
"I know, but you are the only one who can do it," Ryan said.
"Wow, no pressure at all, uh?"
"I'm sorry, I wouldn't ask you to do this, but I can't think of another way…"
"I'm kidding, Ryan," Freedom cut him off. "If it's a way to put a quick end to this battle, I'll do it."
"Thanks, man. I'll make sure to pay you back," Ryan said. "Jean Bart is on her way. Here's the plan..."
"You heard that, August?" Bismarck asked her comrade from atop Geryon's middle head.
"Indeed, my friend," August responded from atop her own rigging. "This won't be easy, but we shan't fail."
Bismarck glanced to the side at the purple glow flying around the place in close proximity, then shifted her gaze ahead on Tower's rigging.
Its armor plating was scorched black, where Geryon's fire had reached it, and riddled with holes in many others, courtesy of his cannons. Some of its fins were damaged, others were completely cut off. Its left eye was missing, and almost half of its weaponry was out of commission, depleted, or straight up too damaged to function properly.
Geryon, on the other hand, had received little damage during the fight, all thanks to his nimbleness and the cover provided by August and her planes. Despite that, he was getting weary. Bismarck's new rigging had performed admirably well in what was essentially his debut, but the amount of energy he required to just exist outside of her Cube was incredibly demanding. Because of the prolonged fight, she wouldn't be able to keep him at top performance for much longer, and if he were to become even a tad slower, he'd become nothing but a big moving target for their opponent.
They needed to put an end to this quickly. Luckily, Ryan had come up with an idea after listening to what Richelieu had to say.
Additionally, thanks to Freedom's intervention, almost all of the Pilots harassing them had been taken down, and now the giant whale was completely unguarded. If they wanted to carry out the plan, it had to be now.
"Let's go then," Bismarck declared.
Geryon let out a powerful roar, heeding his owner's command, and charged the giant whale, with Drachenberg following behind.
"Two Pilots incoming!" August announced as the two remaining drones moved in to intercept them. "They are the last ones. Let me take care of them."
With a nod of acknowledgement, Bismarck commanded Geryon to outflank the threat, leaving the drones to the carrier.
The gigantic whale let out another furious roar when it saw the three-headed dragon charging at it for the umpteenth time. This time, instead of attempting to shoot him down, it opted for a more direct approach.
It bolted, launching itself forward, intending to use its superior size to run over Geryon and Bismarck. The three-headed dragon was quick enough to change course, hauling himself upward with a beat of his wings and avoiding a full-frontal clash, but the whale had learned. With a jerk of its neck, it snapped at the dragon with its mouth, clamping its jaws on his tail before he could get away, like a snapping turtle with prey.
Bismarck was almost thrown over as Geryon came to an abrupt halt. The enemy rigging pulled on his tail with enough force to drag him down and throw him toward the water below.
Geryon impacted the waves with a tremendous splash, sending up a towering plume of water that momentarily obscured him from view. Bismarck lost her grip on him and landed in the water as well.
She recovered quickly and stood up on her feet, only to see the whale's colossal form looming menacingly over her rigging.
"Geryon, get up!" She shouted at him. But the whale was still holding him by the tail, and he was having trouble coming out of the water, thrashing about on his back with his body half-submerged. Without wasting time, Tower's rigging deployed its weapons, aiming all the guns and barrels that sprouted from the side of its head at the dragon.
But before it could open fire on the defenseless dragon, something slammed into it from above, piercing its whole cranium down to the mouth and hooking onto its palate from the inside.
The whale let out another loud cry, letting go of Geryon's tail, and Bismarck smirked. "Right where I wanted you," she muttered as she gazed upward, where she could see a certain flying ship hovering in the air.
Having followed Ryan's plan, Jean Bart had approached the fight from above, hidden out of sight behind the cover of the clouds. She had been waiting for Bismarck to create an opportunity for her to show up and shoot the damn whale with the same harpoon that had proven effective earlier.
But this time, she wouldn't limit herself to that. The large projectile that was impaling the whale's melon had an equally large and thick anchor chain attached to its rear end, which was sprouting from the top of its head. Jean Bart, without wasting time, willed her vessel to start pulling it up, along with the giant rigging.
The beast began struggling with all its might, until it realized what was happening and lifted its head. Before it could even think of taking off toward the flying vessel, something else attached itself to its mouth, piercing and hooking onto its lower jaw. Its remaining eye rotated downward to see two much smaller chains embedded into its chin. The owner of those chains was standing on the surface of the water, the other ends wrapped around his forearms, while a huge number of Kansen were gripping the lengths of the chains with their bare hands.
"Pull!" Leviathan shouted.
And thus, the giant whale found itself being pulled in two different directions by its enemies, who were trying everything they could to wrench its mouth open. It struggled fiercely against their hold, but the prolonged fight against the three-headed dragon had taken its toll on it as well, and it wasn't capable of wrenching itself free.
But it could still keep its mouth shut. Despite their enhanced strength, the Kansen couldn't hope to pry its maw open, so when it realized what they were trying to achieve, it stubbornly sealed its jaws shut, making sure not to leave a single crack in its mouth.
But Geryon wasn't done. The three-headed dragon had recovered and, fighting against exhaustion, had taken flight once more. He was now standing in front of the whale at a subtle angle, keeping himself up with his wings. He aimed his still-functioning guns at its mouth and fired, nailing it in the side, where the jaw hinge was located.
The joint finally collapsed, and with another strong jerk, the Kansen managed to pry the whale's mouth open. Not by much, but enough to allow Freedom, who had been keeping his eyes on the whole situation, to dart inside of it with a burst of speed.
Inside the whale was just like Richelieu had described it: hot and bright, blinding even. The light and the heat were both caused by the energy coursing through the rigging's body, which was necessary to keep it running.
And yet it wasn't as blinding nor as scorching as the Cardinal had described it, Freedom considered. It made sense, though, as Tower must have depleted a lot of the energy at her disposal to keep her rigging going during the fight.
Speaking of Tower herself, upon pushing himself further into the whale's gullet with his wings keeping him up in the air, he found her.
Arms spread to her sides, head hung low, and legs dangling idly into the void, the corrupted Antiochus cut an almost pitiful sight, being held captive inside her own rigging. Her empty eyes settled on him when he approached her, and she stared into his own, as if pleading to him to put an end to her misery—or maybe it was just his imagination.
Whatever the case, there was no room for hesitation.
He called out his rigging and took aim.
Like a puppet whose strings had been cut off, Tower's rigging froze all of a sudden, and its struggle came to a stop. The lights coursing through its body died down, and without its power source keeping it up, it began plummeting toward the water.
The only thing preventing it from crushing the Kansen below it was Jean Bart, who kept it attached to her harpoon for as long as she could, allowing her comrades to get to a safe distance and Freedom to come out of its mouth before detaching the chain.
The gigantic rigging fell with an even more tremendous splash than Geryon, raising a copious amount of water. When it settled, silence reigned for a second before an uncontainable sense of elation spread over the Kansen, and a loud cheer arose from their ranks, alongside Geryon's victorious bellow.
Bismarck let out a huge sigh of relief, her shoulders sagging in exertion. Her rigging lowered his heads to her level, all three of them looking expectantly at her.
"You did great, Geryon," she said, petting each one of them on their snouts, making him hum in delight. "Let us go-"
"Lord Bismarck!" Something, or rather, someone, slammed into her from the side, sending them both down into the water. U-556 latched onto her, crying her little heart out while nuzzling her face into her chest. "I can't believe this! You are awake! Thanks goodness!"
"Hey, Parzival," Bismarck said softly after recovering from the surprise. She wrapped her arms around the submarine and stood up on her feet as she carried her. "I'm sorry for making you worry; I promise I'll never do that again."
"Yeah, you better… *sniff* I'm the one who's supposed to protect you, not the other way around," U-556 said, trying her best to sound offended and only resulting in an adorable pout that made Bismarck chuckle.
"Come, let us go greet the others-"
Before she could finish, a bunch of bodies bearing the Iron Blood cross on their uniforms slammed into her, tackling them both back down before dogpiling on them in a heap of flesh and tears, all under Geryon's amused gaze.
"Mein Fraulein!"
"Frau Bismarck! We are so glad!"
Gneisenau, Scharnhorst… all the Iron Blood Kansen who had been transferred to Brest came up to greet their flagship, setting aside any kind of decorum; even Deutschland seemed on the verge of breaking down.
Drachenberg flew down to their level, allowing August to jump off his back and land next to them. From the side, Leviathan approached.
The carrier moved in to embrace him, only to notice the wound on his left shoulder that Tester had inflicted on him earlier. "My darling, you're injured," August said, her voice laced with concern.
"It's just a scratch; nothing Vestal can't handle," he reassured her, pulling her closer with his other arm and leaning in for a gentle kiss.
When Bismarck finally managed to disentangle herself from the smothering embrace of her fellow Iron Blood comrades, she turned to address the two of them, awkwardly clearing her throat to get their attention.
"Good to see you, Herr Leviathan," she said as the two lovers finally pulled away from each other.
"You as well, Frau Bismarck," Leviathan replied, extending his hand for a handshake. "We were starting to think you'd be sleeping forever."
Bismarck let out a wistful smile. "Honestly, I never dreamed that I would be given new life in this manner," she said. "Much seems to have changed during my slumber, but I am now ready to take on everything."
A bit of commotion caught their attention, drawing their eyes toward Geryon, who was focused on Liebe and Drachenberg. The three-headed dragon's left head was lowered to the water's surface, where Liebe's face peeked out, her eyes locked onto his in an almost playful stare challenge. Meanwhile, his right head remained elevated, scrutinizing Drachenberg with a mixture of caution and curiosity, reciprocated by the smaller dragon. The air was filled with low growls and the clicking of jaws as they seemed to communicate in a language of their own. Meanwhile, his middle head had caught the attention of the other Iron Blood shipgirls, who were already fawning over him in both admiration and a bit of uncertainty in front of the much larger rigging.
"By the way, thanks for the help with Geryon, August," Bismarck said. "You were right; he and I are much more alike than I thought."
August responded with a knowing nod. "Indeed, my friend. There are exceptions, but tf there's something I've learned over all these years, it's that one's disposition reflects that of one's own rigging in some way or form."
"Wait..." Bismarck perked up at that. "Is that why Drachenberg is so submissive toward you?" She inquired pensively.
August choked in an uncharacteristically inelegant way at her words. She cleared her throat, putting up a fake aura of confidence. "And what exactly are you trying to say? That is just because he knows his place."
"Sounds about right," Leviathan commented, suppressing a smirk.
"Quiet you…" August grumbled.
"Ugh, will you stop your shameless flirting already?" Deutschland interjected from the side. "We have more important stuff to worry about, like that," she said, pointing her thumb in the air.
Everyone followed her gaze and did a double take. Jean Bart's flying vessel was descending towards the water, but what really caught their attention was what was hovering nearby.
It wasn't an enemy drone; no, it was worse.
It was a news helicopter.
The battle was essentially over.
With Tower down, the Kansen had completed their mission, and with Tester defeated, the remaining pawns had lost all their coordination, so it didn't take much effort for the fleet to deal with the stragglers.
After that, Ryan could finally stop standing on the sidelines, so he and his escort moved to approach the rest of the fleet, allowing him to check on the Kansen. Jean Bart had lowered her vessel to the surface of the water to give her comrades the chance to get some respite on her massive deck.
The wounded were carried below deck, where Vestal and her META counterpart would take care of them, starting with the more serious ones. As for those who didn't make it, Richelieu would definitely want to spend some words for them later.
Ryan glanced to the side and winced. The METAs were all huddled together in a secluded spot on the deck, grieving the passing of another comrade. The poor women just couldn't catch a break. It was as if the universe was having fun tormenting them in particular, as if they hadn't already suffered enough. He felt compelled to go and offer his sympathies, along with a few words of comfort, but his attention was required elsewhere.
He walked along the seemingly endless flight deck toward where the small news helicopter had landed and the passengers had disembarked. Coming toward him was a small group consisting of a journalist and her camera crew.
"They must have been tipped off by someone who saw when Jean Bart called out her vessel back at the port," Ryan grimaced internally. They should have been more careful when departing from Brest, but they couldn't help it; a flying ship wasn't something that could easily go unnoticed, especially when in a hurry.
It wasn't rare for journalists and reporters to flock to battle sites. The shipgirls were, after all, seen as heroines and idols by the masses, and capturing them while they carried out their duties was very difficult, as the navies usually didn't allow the media to sail with them, especially when expecting to fight the Sirens. There were some cases in which shipgirls were invited as guests to some TV programs, but they were few and far between, as it required special permission and a lot of bureaucracy. But outside of that, the luckiest a reporter could be to "bump" into a shipgirl and rope her into a makeshift interview was to get on a civilian convoy to which a fleet of Kansen was assigned as escort and hope to catch one of them by surprise.
That's why, sometimes, when a major operation particularly close to the mainland would take place, literal hordes of journalists, reporters, or entire broadcasting organizations would fly in, completely disregarding their safety or anything else. Some of them just wanted to do their job as news reporters, while others were like vultures, waiting to feed on the corpses of death and tragedy in the aftermath of battle.
Before deciding how to handle this, Ryan needed to understand which category these people belonged to.
"...right on time to witness the Kansen bring down the Siren monstrosity that has brought devastation to the Royal Navy territories merely a few hours ago!" The journalist's voice became clearer with each step she took. She spoke earnestly as they approached, turning around and pointing overboard as the cameraman followed behind her. "You can clearly see the body even from here. It's so big, it looks like an island…"
"South Dakota, let me handle them," Ryan told the battleship, still dutifully standing by his side. "Have everyone clear the deck and head below."
South Dakota nodded and walked off. He came to a stop in the middle of the flight deck, waiting for the crew to come to him.
"Commander Travis, a word, please," the woman—glancing at her nametag, he saw she was called Sophie Laurent—acknowledged his presence and strutted toward him.
Judging by their demeanor, they seemed dedicated to their job, so maybe they were genuine professionals and not just some clout-chasing parasites. In any case, he had to tread carefully. The world's population was still trying to figure out Azure Lane's new position and standing now that they were essentially a rogue organization. With the help of the flagships, the masses had been reassured, but the eyes of the world were still fixed on them. He had to avoid any repercussions by the court of public opinion, but he also couldn't start indulging their every whim.
"Let's start with a gentle rebuke," he thought. "Before we begin, Miss Laurent, I'd like to know what exactly made you think that approaching a fleet of Kansen in the middle of a battle was a good idea," he began, his tone steady and professional. "You said you saw the shipgirls taking the Siren down; how long exactly have you been here? Didn't you think about the danger? A single enemy drone slipping through, or a stray shot would have been enough to turn your helicopter into a headline."
He seemed to have hit the bullseye. Sophie remained speechless for half a second, but she recovered quickly, as if she were expecting a rebuke, and cleared her throat while her crew exchanged glances.
"Commander Travis," she began, her voice measured and assertive. "With all due respect, it's precisely because of the danger that we're here. The world deserves to see the truth—unedited and unfiltered—and it's our job to bring that to them, even if it means taking risks," she said, turning to address the camera with a flaunting gesture.
"Great, that means we are live," Ryan thought. He'd need to tread carefully now.
"We've been here long enough to witness the incredible bravery of the Kansen and the sheer intensity of the battle," she continued. "Their dedication is beyond question, but that doesn't help erasing the doubts regarding Azure Lane's new position."
"What a way to change the subject," he thought. She had just promptly redirected the attention away from her shortcomings and onto the hot topic of the moment, as expected of an experienced reporter. "At least she's not foolish enough to discredit the Kansen in front of millions of viewers."
He was expecting something like that. This was the first time he had found himself in front of a camera in a long time. Therefore, it was no surprise that any journalist would jump at the chance of drilling him for information about the future of the alliance—and consequently, that of the war—once they spotted him.
"I've already issued plenty of statements regarding the matter," he said. "There's nothing I can tell you now that you haven't already heard."
Despite the flood of interview requests from all over the world following the announcement of Azur Lane's independence, he had been too busy to accommodate them. The only thing he could do was let the flagships and his supporters, of which Admiral Nimitz was the prime figure, speak in his place and put in a good word for him to reassure the public.
"The public needs more than just reassurances—they need to see for themselves if Azure Lane is still worth their trust," she insisted. "For example, where did this flying ship come from? And that large rigging with three heads we saw earlier—where is it? It's like nothing anyone has ever seen before. You were the one who brought them here when you arrived… Thinking it over, how did you even get here? What exactly are you hiding from us?"
"That is... something we'll have to leave for another time," he declared, seemingly unfazed by the accusation.
A scandalized expression appeared on Sophie's face. Before she could even object to his words, a shadow fell over them, and a strong gust of wind swept over the group, stealing her voice and making them grasp their precious equipment tighter.
Looking up, their eyes widened in shock as they noticed the three-headed dragon from before descending on the deck of the vessel.
Geryon landed by folding his wings and letting his carpus touch the ground, coiling his tail beneath him to support his legless body. Then he lowered his middle head to allow Bismarck to dismount.
The Iron Blood faction leader's arrival was met with even more shock. As she approached the group, her gaze lingered one second longer on the Commander, who was trying his best to suppress a smirk.
"B-B-Bismarck," Sophie blurted in disbelief, the camera spinning toward the shipgirl with the imposing rigging in the background. "B-but you were sunk; you should be dead..."
"My death was greatly exaggerated," Bismarck said, looking straight into the camera with a cordial expression. "Just like that of Jean Bart, whose vessel we are currently stepping on."
The journalist's face lit up in elation at the mention of the name. With shivering hands, she adjusted her earpiece and clutched the microphone, trying to come up with a string of questions for the shipgirl.
"S-so, the mysterious rigging belonged to you this whole time; what can you tell us about it? How did you get it?" She asked her excitedly, the conversation with the Commander completely forgotten. "And how are you still alive?"
"Well..." Bismarck smiled into the camera. "Let's just say that part of it is thanks to Kommandant Travis' intervention…"
Following the Commander's directives, the exhausted Kansen had managed to escape the journalists by retiring below deck.
And now that the situation had calmed down, everyone could take a breath to relax.
"I'm so glad you've both recovered," Le Malin said to Dunkerque and Jean Bart.
Lenin watched from the side of the surprisingly spacious cabin as the three of them hugged each other. More exactly, Le Malin was trying her best to embrace both taller shipgirls while Dunkerque reciprocated wholeheartedly, and Jean Bart simply stood there, awkwardly patting her back, as if she had never been on the receiving end of unconditional affection in her whole life.
Le Malin had insisted he come to say hi to the two of them. The icebreaker and the destroyer had last seen Dunkerque right before departing for the Iris Orthodoxy, when she was still in a wheelchair. The last time they saw Jean Bart, instead—that wasn't in a hospital bed, attached to a bunch of machines to keep her alive—was even before that, when they departed to search for the Ashes.
The relief he had felt upon seeing Dunkerque up on her feet and with a big smile on her face had been immense, and he felt like the hole in his chest was starting to close.
"Salut, cheri," the Vichya battlecruiser said to him after breaking the hug with the other two. "It's so good to see you."
"Uh, hello, Miss Dunkerque," he greeted her hesitantly. "Good to see you as well."
"What's up, 'Teddy Bear?' Still too shy to look her in the eyes?" Jean Bart teased him, grinning widely at him when he gave her a sideways glance.
"What's wrong, Lenin?" Dunkerque inquired, noticing his hesitation. "If something's troubling you, don't be afraid to speak up," she told him encouragingly.
"N-no, I'm just..." he tried to come up with an excuse, but then he let out a resigned sigh, hanging his head in shame. "I said I'd do anything to find a way to help you... I'm glad you've recovered, really; I just… I feel like I should have done more."
Dunkerque let out a soft smile, his earnest words touching her. The battlecruiser walked up to him and clasped his shoulders with her hands in a comforting way.
"Don't say that, mon cheri. It doesn't matter how big of a part you played. You and Le Malin both went above and beyond expectations," she began. "You put yourself in danger for me. If it weren't for you, for what you did, we would never have met the Ashes, the Commandant would have never traveled to the Original Timeline, and Dr. Anzeel would have never come here. I would still be stuck on a wheelchair at the joint base, and Jean Bart wouldn't even be awake, right, Jeanie?" She said as she turned to address her friend, sending her a telling look.
"Oh, uh, yeah, right," Jean Bart stammered, still trying to wrap her head around what she had missed while she slept. "If you say it like that, I suppose it's true."
Lenin chastised himself internally; her words were enough to soothe his worries, but despite that, he still couldn't look her in the eyes properly. The guilt and shame were still very much present in the back of his mind, never missing a chance to remind him of his place.
Unbeknownst to him, Le Malin gestured for Jean Bart to lean down, then whispered something in her ear. The battleship hummed in understanding, a frown creasing her features. Then an idea came to her mind, and she pondered it for a second. It didn't take her long to make a decision.
"Hey, Lenin, I heard that some of our comrades have been giving you a hard time since you've come to Brest," she said as she stepped up to him. "Dunkerque, can I borrow your weapon?" She asked her friend.
"My weapon…?" Dunkerque frowned in confusion, but then her face lit up in understanding. "Jeanie, is this what I think it is?" She inquired excitedly.
"That's right," Jean Bart confirmed. "Usually, Richelieu is the one doing all the ceremony, so I don't know exactly how I'm supposed to do this, but we'll manage," she continued as Dunkerque unsheathed the rapier hanging on her hip and offered it to her. She took it by the handle and cleared her throat, much to Lenin's confusion.
"What are you-"
"On your knees," she commanded, and the shipboy obeyed, bemused. "By the power vested in me by my authority as Captain of the Order of the Templar Knights, I hereby absolve you of any sins you've committed against the Iris Orthodoxy, and for the bravery you've displayed in battle, I grant you the title of Honorary Knight," she declared, trying to sound as solemn as she could while touching both his shoulders with the tip of the blade. "Now, arise, Lenin, honorary member of the Order of the Templar Knights."
The shipboy remained speechless, his mouth agape in disbelief. Was she… pardoning him? Officially? And making him a knight? Where did that come from? His gaze instinctively settled on Le Malin, and he found her beaming at him with a proud expression on her face.
"W-wait, a knight? Is that even allowed?" He scrambled to his feet, trying to process what had just happened. "What will your comrades say?"
"Don't worry," Jean Bart said, her voice returning to a more casual tone as she handed the rapier back to its owner. "If anyone has anything to say, they are going to have to deal with me."
"I… I don't know what to say," he stammered, a wave of emotion hitting him. "Thank you."
"No, thank you, mon cheri," Dunkerque said, beaming at him. Then she clapped her hands excitedly. "And now, a kiss of congratulations for the newly appointed knight," she announced.
Before anyone could react, she leaned down and reached with her hand to gently brush away his messy, light blue hair, then planted a chaste kiss on his forehead.
Instead of recoiling back in surprise, the shipboy froze under her touch, heat rushing to his cheeks. His gaze instinctively moved to Le Malin again to gauge her reaction, only to find her pouting slightly.
Eyes wide and mouth agape, he began spluttering and stuttering as he tried to string up a coherent sentence, but his stammer elicited the chuckles of the women in the room, which only added to his predicament.
Then, to his absolute dismay, the destroyer began purposefully strutting toward him with a face that made him think she was going to slap him.
But she didn't. Instead, she gripped his shoulders, leaned closer to him, and planted her lips on his cheek, so close to his mouth that if he dared to move an inch, they would probably brush against each other.
What lasted only a couple of seconds felt like an eternity to him, and when she pulled back, she averted her gaze from him, looking down sheepishly.
"A kiss of congratulations... for the newly appointed knight," she said in embarrassment.
His stammering, along with the chuckles of the other women, came to a stop. A bunch of emotions swirled wildly in his head, while Jean Bart's jaw almost hit the floor, and Dunkerque melted, trying her best to suppress a squeal of excitement.
This was a lot different than the innocent peck she had given him last time after their fight against the Ashes. This one spoke volumes.
He didn't know how to react, but looking at her, fidgeting awkwardly and blushing like a schoolgirl after acting so daringly in front of her comrades, the memory of the conversation he had with his brothers right before the battle came to his mind, and a sudden feeling of boldness began surging from within him.
She had caught him so off guard, coming on him so strongly, and now she was acting so demurely, as if she'd realized the meaning of her actions. It had awakened something inside him, and all he wanted to do was grab her and smash his mouth on hers, claiming her lips for himself right then and there.
But he had to restrain himself; he couldn't just do that out of nowhere and not in front of the others. All he could do was submit himself to the embarrassment of the teasing that would ensue from the two senior Kansen.
Luckily, he was spared any further embarrassment by a knock on the door.
Freedom had come to look for them, a grave expression on his face, and Lenin and Le Malin felt compelled to follow him.
"What's wrong, brother?" Lenin inquired as they walked behind him, the embarrassment from before washing away to be replaced by concern.
"I ran into Ember earlier; she was looking for you," said the taller man. "She said someone wants to talk to you, and since I'm heading the same way, I thought I'd come pick you up."
Le Malin had an idea who he was referring to. Her guess was proven correct when, upon reaching the door of another cabin and knocking, Ember herself opened the door.
The META bore an unreadable expression on her face, a mask of impassivity hiding the true emotion behind it.
"Where is she?" She asked Freedom without so much as a greeting, acknowledging the presence of the icebreaker and the destroyer with barely a glance.
Without a word, Freedom pulled out a Wisdom Cube from his pocket and handed it to her. She looked at it for an instant, her heart clenching at the sight of the faded, red-stained contraption, before taking it in her hands with surprising delicacy, as if it were made of glass and not some kind of indestructible and ineffable alien material. Then she stepped back into the room, allowing the three of them inside.
Inside the cabin, sitting on one of the bunks, hunching over herself while looking down at her feet, was Algérie META.
"Algérie, they are here," Ember announced. "All of them."
The distressed META lifted her head, revealing a forlorn expression on her face, the same one she had when Le Malin had taken her to safety, but this time, she also bore red markings around her eyes, whose puffiness clashed with her pale skin. Unsurprisingly, she had been crying a lot.
Ember approached her and offered her the Cube of their deceased comrade without saying another word. She reached for the Cube, taking it in her hands and looking at it with aloof wonder before glancing up at the people in the room.
"You've brought her..." she muttered, her eyes settling on Freedom for an instant.
"I said I'd do it," he stated solemnly.
"Thank you…" Algérie META said, almost in disbelief, as she was having trouble processing what was happening. Then her gaze settled on the two shorter Kansen, who were looking at her with concerned expressions. A lump formed in her throat, and the emotion came back all at once like a tidal wave. She clutched the Cube to her chest, and the dam broke once again.
"Le Malin, Lenin, I'm so sorry…" she said as more tears began trickling down her face. "We were looking for you on the battlefield—La Gallissonnière and I. After what we did to you, we wanted to apologize. We wanted to be of help…" she choked on her words, and she lowered her head in shame. "But then… then…"
Le Malin ran up to her and clasped her hands with hers, along with the Cube she was holding. "It's okay," she said warmly, catching the META off guard. "We've already forgiven you, right, Lenin?" She turned to ask the shipboy, who could only nod in agreement, trusting in the destroyer to handle this.
Algérie found herself at a loss for words. "B-but you… We didn't even..." she stammered.
"La Gallissonnière saved my life today, and also that of my friend—your counterpart," Le Malin stated confidently. She had been thinking about what to say to the META as soon as she got the chance to see her again. "She gave her life for the two of us without thinking twice, and that's a testament to her honor. I'm sure you would have done the same in her place, but you are here; you have a future ahead of you now, right? You need to treasure it, and you have to do it for her too," she added. "In the end, I'm glad you made it, though you have to thank Freedom for that."
The Vichya META almost couldn't believe her words. Not knowing how to respond, she simply kept crying, though this time the destroyer moved in to embrace her in a warm hug.
As her comrade broke down into tears again, Ember turned to Freedom.
"You have my gratitude for what you did," she whispered into his ears, then she produced something from her uniform. "Give this to Shikikan Travis; I have no use for it," she said as she slipped it into his hand. "Tell him he can do whatever he wants with it. I don't care."
Freedom glanced down at it. Laying in his hand, pulsing with an ominous purple light that clashed with the dead hue of La Gallissonnière's, was Tester's Cube.
With the one he had plucked from Tower's body after killing her, it was two more Antiochus snatched from the Sirens' yoke.
Only one left.
AN: Another checkpoint in the bag! A couple more chapters to wrap up this arc, and then I'll go on that short break I mentioned before.
After that, the last arc of the story awaits us, and then the finale!
Wow, I can't believe I'm actually writing this. We are approaching the end of the story, and I don't know how to feel about this. On one hand, I don't think I'll be able to fill the emptiness this story will leave when it's over. On the other hand, I feel the need to give it the proper conclusion it deserves without dragging it forever.
Anyway, it's best if we leave this kind of talk for later. The astral conjunction draws ever closer, and now that Tower is down for good, it's time to go back to the matter of the portal.
Next Chapter: The Master and the Maid