Masaki had no other choice. If there was anyone who could ferry him across the unlucky wastelands and the Black Sea of failure, it would be Hikaru, the man sitting here with both Fletcher and Lexington at his side.
"And what if I succeed?"
Hikaru raised one finger.
"One million?"
"No—ten million. If you manage to build a five-star or higher shipgirl, thirty million. You'll make it back anyway after a few rounds of military R&D sponsorship."
Hikaru's real goal with selling the construction blueprint was to make money. Even if Masaki was his first customer to open the market, business was business.
Considering Masaki had been suffering for twenty years, Hikaru actually felt charging thirty million was practically charity.
"I really am a philanthropist," Hikaru muttered to himself with self-satisfaction.
Wilhelmina bit her lip but didn't try to stop her admiral. Masaki, after some hesitation, finally slapped his leg.
"Fine! I'll treat it as working for you for half a year!"
Damn, just half a year? Masaki must be ridiculously good at making money. Hikaru regretted not asking for double.
With black-hearted glee, Hikaru tossed the blueprint toward Masaki.
"Start right here. Remember, read the 'Declaration of Defeat' loud and clear, full of emotion, then chant the name of the Fortress Princess. abyssal Technology shall bless you."
Masaki scrambled to catch the blueprint. The moment it landed in his hands, he felt an odd resonance—just like the connection he felt when handling resources. He could tell without a doubt this blueprint was genuine and would merge with the materials.
He examined the constantly shifting lines on the blueprint—one moment it was a submarine design, the next a massive battleship.
So this is what 'Unidentified' means… Masaki thought, amazed by this so-called abyssal technology.
Though ninety percent convinced, Masaki still raised an eyebrow.
"'Declaration of Defeat'? Are you messing with me?"
"Believe it or not, but hurry up. I've got things to do."
"How do I use it?"
"Just combine it with your materials as usual."
Taking a deep breath, Masaki, under the gaze of dozens of new and veteran commanders, nervously held the blueprint high and began reciting loudly.
"I, Kamizawa Masaki, admit defeat! I accept my fate as the unluckiest fool alive! Pachina-sama(pachinko goddess), forgive my sins! Let your divine whip fall upon this lost lamb's back!"
Shame? Masaki didn't feel a shred of it. He'd already declared defeat so many times in the past it had become routine. Yet today, as he spoke the words aloud, it felt strangely real—like every miserable day of his life was kneeling before the Fortress Princess, begging for mercy.
He sat cross-legged, placing his hands over the pile of resources.
The blueprint and the 1++ resources began to glow and merge almost instantly, causing the crowd to gasp.
"Wait, that blueprint really reacts? Did Masaki actually spend money on this scam?"
"Something feels off. It might actually be real…"
"Superstition! You really believe in that abyssal tech nonsense?"
"Hey, if it guarantees results, I'd gladly worship the abyssal too."
"I already do worship her! I've kissed my shipgirl encyclopedia so much the Fortress Princess page is worn out!"
"Looks like they'll need to start printing those pages on plastic to survive you freaks."
Despite the banter, all eyes stayed fixed on Masaki. If it was going to fail, they'd know soon enough.
Five minutes.
Ten minutes.
Twenty minutes.
The jeers quieted down. Every eye was glued to the meditating Masaki as if awaiting a miracle.
Hikaru, unbothered, lazily popped grapes into his mouth that Lexington offered him, even playfully sucking on her fingers and earning a blushing scolding. He was thoroughly enjoying himself.
But waiting was getting boring. What if Masaki took hours to finish? Just as Hikaru considered leaving to summon Tirpitz, a group of people silently approached.
Leading them was a middle-aged man with a stern, square face, silver streaks in his hair, and a Governor's badge pinned to his chest.
Governors were officials appointed by the Shipgirl Headquarters, wielding nominal command over all Admirals in their region. Whether Admirals listened or not depended on the Governor's personal influence.
The man wore a spotless double-breasted chef's uniform and a towering white hat. If not for his badge, he'd look like any ordinary chef.
The so-called Chef Governor frowned deeply upon seeing Masaki and then glanced up at Hikaru.
"I hear you're using some so-called 'construction blueprint' to change Kamizawa's fate?"
Hikaru shrugged. "You could say that. And you are?"
"I am Takeyama Takeshi, a man dedicated to spreading peace and redemption through cuisine. Your method is heresy—it will only burden Masaki with greater sin."
Is this guy mentally unstable? Hikaru perked up, suddenly intrigued. He replied bluntly, "Never heard of you. Say what you've got to say."
Takeshi's eyes swept over Fletcher, Lexington, and California. His face relaxed slightly.
"So it's true—you've got Lexington, Fletcher, and California?"
"They chose me," Hikaru replied calmly.
"You're one of those blessed by fortune," Takeshi clapped his hands, and a brunette woman approached with a covered platter.
"My dishes are meant to bring peace to the unlucky. But lucky people—like you—must also partake, for repentance."
Connecting the dots, Hikaru narrowed his eyes.
"You're the one who tricked Masaki with that disgusting food, aren't you? I'm not stupid—I'm not eating that crap!"
Takeshi chuckled ominously, leaning in.
"I want to play a game…"
To Hikaru's surprise, he actually agreed to play along.
Takeshi was a famous alumnus of the Academy, known for his… unique contributions.
The brunette set the covered dish on a small table beside them.
"Let me repeat the rules: if you fail, you eat the dish. If you succeed, we'll give you ten times the value of the resources you used!"
Yes, Takeshi was the Academy's notorious high-stakes gambler—offering tenfold rewards for success but serving culinary horrors for failure.
Being from a billionaire family, Takeshi had no need to profit. He did this purely for his own twisted sense of justice.
Hikaru scanned the zombie-like victims behind Takeshi. They had clearly lost their bets, and their vacant, drooling stares seemed to accuse him: Why do you still live when we have fallen?
"Betting, huh? I do enjoy a good gamble." Hikaru sauntered over to Fletcher.
"But betting on shipgirls would be too easy on you."
He pulled another blueprint from Fletcher's bag and held it up.
"Let's bet on equipment development instead."
Equipment development was just as risky as shipgirl construction, but most people preferred building shipgirls since they might come with pre-equipped gear.
Takeshi nodded, indifferent to the change.
Hikaru called California over.
"Go fetch me a big-gun formula—20 oil, 30 aluminum."
California snapped a crisp salute and fetched the requested materials.
The resource stack now read: 20 oil, 130 ammo, 210 steel, 30 aluminum.
Takeshi frowned.
"Rookies shouldn't bet on heavy battleship guns. It's unwise."
Hikaru smirked.
"You should be grateful for my kindness. Otherwise, I'd go all-in with 1++ resources."
Lexington giggled as she toyed with her hair.
"Our Admiral is just too kind. We're still pretty poor, after all."
Takeshi sneered.
As if you're guaranteed to succeed…
From the crowd,someone who had been watching, shouted,
"Don't tell me that's another guaranteed-drop blueprint you stole from an abyssal!"
The crowd gave only a few half-hearted cheers this time. Masaki had been building for almost thirty minutes now—tension was high.
Takeshi squinted.
"A development blueprint? May I have a look?"
Hikaru casually handed it over. Takeshi examined it for a while and handed it back.
"Whoever made this sure has skill. Why waste it on trickery?"
"Believe what you want." Hikaru rolled his eyes and sat down with the blueprint in hand.
Just like the construction blueprint, this development blueprint had been materialized through Hikaru's system. Even the quick-repair tool could be materialized if he wanted, disguised as a simple toolbox.
Placing his hands over the blueprint, Hikaru quickly felt it resonate with the materials.
Images flashed through his mind like a slideshow:
…Soaring at 6000 meters, the pilot howling in excitement as enemy carrier fighter squadrons swarmed like birds…
Breaking through, dodging anti-air fire…
Target locked…
Not dive-bombing—ramming headlong into the side of the ship…
BOOM.
Hikaru opened his eyes, speechless.
Well… not a battleship gun, but a carrier aircraft. Guess that's still something.
Though this one seemed a bit janky—it looked like a suicide-bomber plane.
[End of Chapter]
[50 Power Stones = Extra Chapter]
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