"Why don't you lie down for a while…"
His voice turned cold.
Before Purifier could react, Yuuki raised his hand and fired—once, twice, three, four times. Each repulsor shot struck with surgical precision, hitting her limbs and joints rather than her core. The blasts tore through her structure just enough to cripple without killing, locking her body in place as she screamed in pain.
Her movements stopped.
Completely.
She lay there, unable to rise, her yellow eyes burning with hatred as they fixed on him. The intent to kill was unmistakable—raw, violent, and absolute. If she could move, she would have torn him apart without hesitation.
Yuuki didn't even acknowledge it.
He had already gotten what he needed.
Without another glance, he lifted off the ground and flew back toward Yorktown and Laffey, who were still enclosed within the glowing blue barrier. With a simple motion of his hand, the shield dissolved into particles of light, vanishing as if it had never existed.
He landed in front of them.
"Sorry about that," he said casually. "Now… back to my earlier question."
He tilted his head slightly.
"Are you two okay?"
Silence.
Both girls remained frozen, their eyes locked on him, their bodies tense. Even after everything he had done—after saving them, after defeating the Sirens—they couldn't respond.
Yuuki paused.
"…Right."
He glanced down briefly, then sighed.
"Hold on a sec."
With a soft mechanical shift, the helmet began to retract. The golden mask split apart and folded back smoothly, revealing his face beneath.
Yorktown froze.
The man inside the armor was… young.
Far younger than she expected.
For a moment, her mind failed to process it. The one who had just overwhelmed the Sirens, who had dismantled them with ease, who moved like a force of nature—
Was a young man in his mid-twenties.
His features were sharp yet calm, his expression relaxed, almost approachable. Raven-black hair framed his face neatly, and his eyes—clear, steady—held none of the brutality he had just displayed moments ago.
Something stirred in her chest.
Unexpected.
Unfamiliar.
Her heart skipped.
Beside her, Laffey felt it too, though she didn't understand it.
Before either of them could speak, the armor began to open.
Piece by piece, like a mechanical puzzle unfolding, the Mark XLVII separated and retracted away from his body. Plates shifted, folded, and disengaged with seamless precision until Yuuki stepped forward—free from the armor.
Now, standing before them—
He looked… ordinary.
A fitted grey sweater clung lightly to his frame, layered over a black inner shirt, paired with simple pants and grey sneakers. Civilian clothing. Casual. Almost out of place in a battlefield filled with smoke and ruin.
But his physique told a different story.
Lean.
Defined.
Built through discipline rather than display.
Yorktown's gaze lingered longer than she intended.
In her life, she had seen many men—commanders, soldiers, officers. None had left an impression.
But this one—
Did.
Behind him, the armor reassembled itself with a soft hum, plates locking back into place as it returned to full form.
"Sentry mode," Yuuki said simply.
The suit's eyes lit up.
And then—
It moved.
Standing behind him like a silent guardian, fully operational without a pilot.
Yorktown's eyes widened again.
Autonomous.
That armor… didn't even need him inside it.
Yuuki turned back to them, hands casually at his sides.
His expression softened slightly.
"Sorry about that," he said again, this time more gently.
A small pause.
"…Feel better now?"
"Hnnn… thank you… thank you very much… for saving our lives."
Yorktown's voice was soft—gentle, almost fragile, yet steady in a way that carried quiet strength. Even now, she held Laffey close, as if afraid that letting go would somehow undo everything that had just happened. There was relief in her tone… but also exhaustion. The kind that came from surviving far too long on the edge of despair.
As she spoke, the Iron Legion units descended behind Yuuki one by one, landing with synchronized precision. Their armored frames locked into position, glowing cores steady as they assumed sentry formation.
The sudden movement made both girls flinch.
Instinct.
Fear.
Yuuki noticed immediately.
"Hey—don't worry," he said, raising a hand slightly in reassurance. "They're drones. Autonomous, but under my control." He gave a small shrug. "I'm the only one here with actual flesh and blood."
That seemed to ease the tension—slightly.
His gaze shifted briefly across the ruined base, then back to them.
"…We were late," he added, quieter this time. "From what I can see… you two are the only survivors. Am I right?"
Yorktown lowered her eyes for a moment.
"…Yes," she replied softly.
Then she looked back up at him.
"May I ask… who are you, sir?"
There was something different in her expression now.
Hope.
Careful.
Fragile.
But unmistakably there.
Yuuki opened his mouth to answer—
But his armor spoke first.
"Sir," the Mark XLVII reported, its voice calm and mechanical, "multiple Siren vessels detected within operational range. Cruisers, destroyers, and at least one battleship-class unit approaching."
Yuuki's expression shifted instantly.
Focused.
"Additionally," the armor continued, "the communication suppression dome remains active. The captured Siren has been unable to transmit distress signals. However… she is persistently attempting to do so."
A faint pause.
"…And still verbally hostile."
Yuuki exhaled lightly.
"Of course she is."
He glanced back toward the battlefield, where the crippled Purifier lay immobilized among the wreckage.
Then his eyes lifted slightly—
Toward the horizon.
Incoming threats.
Bigger ones.
His tone changed.
Sharper now.
"Looks like we're not done yet."
He turned back to Yorktown and Laffey, his expression calm—but decisive.
"Stay behind me," he said. "This might get a little louder."
"Oh—right. I almost forgot about that."
Yuuki's tone shifted, casual for a brief moment, as if recalling something minor rather than an overwhelming escalation of force.
"Shall I order the Legions to intercept?" JARVIS asked.
"No," Yuuki replied, shaking his head slightly. "Too slow."
He didn't even turn.
"Eva… what's the status of the big guns?"
For Yorktown and Laffey, the voice that answered next was… unexpected.
Female.
Refined.
Composed.
It carried a tone of authority wrapped in elegance—something that felt strangely familiar, almost reminiscent of the dignified officers of the Royal Navy.
"Commander," Eva's voice came through clearly, "all units are prepared. Chrono drones from the Little Doctor report full synchronization. Deployment window is stable. We are ready for teleportation."
Yorktown blinked.
Teleportation?
Yuuki smirked faintly.
"Then let's not keep our guests waiting," he said. "Send them in."
"Command acknowledged, sir. Teleportation sequence initiating."
A pause.
Then—
"Teleporting troops will arrive in five… four… three… two… one…"
The world behind them—
Changed.
A massive dome of blue energy erupted into existence, crackling violently with arcs of electricity that tore through the air like living lightning. The ground beneath it vibrated as space itself distorted, bending inward as if reality were being forcibly rewritten.
The air grew heavy.
Charged.
Unnatural.
Yorktown's breath caught.
Laffey froze completely.
Even the crippled Purifier, lying in the distance, felt it—and for the first time since her defeat, true shock overtook her expression.
The dome pulsed—
Then collapsed inward.
And something emerged.
Not dropped.
Not flown in.
But placed.
As if it had always been there.
The battlefield fell silent.
Even the wind seemed to hesitate.
Yorktown's legs nearly gave out beneath her as she stared at what now stood behind them. Her mind struggled to process the scale… the presence… the sheer impossibility of what had just appeared.
Laffey clutched her tighter, unable to even form words.
And Purifier—
For the first time—
Felt something she had never experienced before.
Not fear.
Not yet.
But something dangerously close.
Because whatever had just arrived…
Was not meant for a battlefield like this.
Yorktown's thoughts echoed faintly, barely forming into words.
…What… is that…?
"Are those… flying battleships?"
Yorktown's voice came out as barely more than a whisper, her eyes wide as she stared at the colossal constructs now hovering in the sky. Her mind struggled to reconcile what she was seeing—ships… not on water… but suspended in the air like silent gods of war.
Yuuki didn't answer immediately.
Instead, JARVIS did.
[Kodiak-Class Flying Battleship.]
The name alone carried weight.
Above them, three massive warships hovered in perfect formation, their shadows stretching across the ruined battlefield. Their hulls were enormous—armored, angular, and unmistakably designed for war on a scale far beyond anything this world had ever witnessed.
Each Kodiak bristled with weaponry.
Nine 24-inch (610 mm) heavy artillery cannons were mounted beneath their frames, grouped into three massive turrets. Even idle, they radiated destructive potential—guns designed not just to damage, but to erase. Entire fortifications… entire battle lines… reduced to nothing with a single coordinated barrage.
Their purpose was clear.
Long-range annihilation.
The kind that ended battles before they truly began.
Along their upper structures, multiple Vulcan cannons tracked independently, scanning the skies with mechanical precision. Anti-air defenses—fast, reactive, lethal against anything foolish enough to approach.
And yet…
Despite their overwhelming presence, they hovered silently.
Waiting.
Obedient.
Controlled.
Yorktown's breath trembled as she took a step back, her body instinctively reacting to the sheer scale of power now looming above them.
"These… things…" she murmured, unable to look away.
Laffey clung to her, eyes locked upward in complete disbelief.
"They're bigger than… any fleet…"
Yuuki finally spoke.
"Three units," he said calmly, glancing upward as if this were routine. "Kodiak-class. Long-range bombardment platforms."
His tone was almost casual.
"They outrange anything on this planet," he added.
That wasn't arrogance.
It was a statement of fact.
Far in the distance, the silhouettes of incoming Siren ships began to appear—cruisers, destroyers, a battleship—moving in formation toward the island.
They had no idea that another distortion tore through reality.
A second teleportation spheres erupted into existence, smaller than the last, yet no less intense. Blue-white arcs of electricity lashed outward as the dome expanded, its surface rippling violently as something else forced its way into this world.
Yorktown flinched instinctively.
"…There's more…?"
The sphere pulsed—
Then collapsed.
And from within it emerged something different.
Not a weapon.
Not a destroyer.
But a presence that felt… supportive.
[Archangel-Class Repair Crafts.]
Three of them hovered into position with a quiet hum, its structure sleek yet purposeful. Roughly the size of a Kodiak, it lacked the overwhelming aggression of the other warships. Instead of heavy artillery or glowing weapon arrays, its design centered around function—precision, adaptability, sustainment.
Four massive articulated arms extended slowly from its frame, each one glowing faintly at the tips as energy conduits activated. They moved with delicate precision, like mechanical limbs designed not for destruction—
But restoration.
Clusters of smaller compartments along its hull opened subtly, revealing swarms of compact repair drones waiting within, their systems already spooling up for deployment.
A faint aura spread outward from the craft.
Invisible—
Yet tangible.
The air itself seemed to shift around it.
"Energy field detected," JARVIS noted calmly. "Support protocols active."
Yuuki glanced upward briefly, acknowledging its arrival with a slight nod.
"Right on time."
The Archangel wasn't built to fight.
It was built to change the battlefield.
Within its operational radius, allied units would be reinforced, strengthened, repaired in real-time. Damage would fade. Systems would stabilize. Weapons would push beyond normal limits.
And for enemies—
The opposite.
Interference fields.
Weapon disruption.
System degradation.
It didn't just support allies.
It crippled opponents.
Yorktown stared upward, trying to understand what she was seeing.
"That one… isn't attacking…" she murmured.
Laffey tilted her head slightly. "…It's helping…?"
Yuuki gave a faint smile.
"Something like that."
Above them, the Archangel shifted into position behind the Zeus and Kodiaks, completing the formation.
And then—
the sky changed.
Not with thunder. Not with fire.
But with presence.
The air grew heavy, as if something vast had forced its way into existence. The blue electrical dome expanded again, larger than before, its surface cracking with violent arcs of energy that struggled to contain what was coming through. The ground beneath them trembled—not from impact, but from pressure alone.
Yorktown felt it in her chest.
Laffey clung tighter.
Neither of them spoke.
Because something was arriving.
The dome collapsed inward—
And it appeared.
[Zeus Battleship.]
It did not descend from the sky, nor rise from the sea. It simply manifested, as if reality itself had been rewritten to make space for it. Vast and imposing, it dwarfed even the Kodiak-class ships, its sheer scale alone enough to make the battlefield feel insignificant.
At a glance, it didn't resemble a ship meant for water.
It looked like something that merely tolerated it.
Its hull was sleek—unnaturally smooth, devoid of the clutter and exposed systems seen on traditional warships. There were no bulky turrets or protruding weapon mounts. Instead, its structure followed a refined, almost aerodynamic design, as though it had been engineered with spacecraft principles rather than naval ones.
Cold metallic silver stretched across its surface, broken only by glowing veins of blue-white energy. Those lines pulsed rhythmically, like a living organism circulating power through its body. As the ship stabilized, the glow intensified, illuminating the battlefield with an eerie, artificial light.
Yorktown's breath caught.
"…It's massive…" she whispered unconsciously.
Because that was what it felt like.
Then came the weapons.
They didn't move.
They didn't rotate.
They revealed themselves.
Collider Cannons.
Sections of the hull responded seamlessly, forming embedded emitter arrays that began to gather energy. Light condensed within them, growing brighter and denser, like miniature stars forming just beneath the surface.
No shells.
No missiles.
Only pure, focused energy.
Laffey's voice trembled. "…That's not a ship…"
She was right.
This wasn't a battleship in the way she understood.
It was a platform.
A floating superweapon.
Four times the size of the Kodiaks, it loomed over everything—dominating not just the battlefield, but the very idea of naval warfare itself.
Then—
a shimmer.
A transparent dome formed around it, barely visible at first. As it stabilized, hex-like patterns rippled across its surface, distorting light and bending the air around it. The energy shield didn't just block attacks—it dispersed them, redirecting force as if rejecting the very concept of damage.
From a distance, the Zeus looked unreal.
As though it existed slightly out of phase with the world.
Even the ocean beneath it remained undisturbed. No waves rose beneath its mass. No water displaced. It didn't float.
It hovered.
Perfectly still.
Perfectly stable.
Purifier stared upward, her expression hollow.
For the first time—
she didn't understand what she was looking at.
"…What… is that…?" she whispered.
Because this was beyond data.
Beyond prediction.
Beyond Siren knowledge.
Yuuki didn't even bother to look back.
"…That," he said calmly, "is what we use when we don't feel like wasting time."
Above them, the three Kodiak battleships subtly adjusted their positions, as if acknowledging the arrival of something far greater. Their massive artillery now seemed almost conventional in comparison.
The Zeus hovered silently.
Dominant.
Absolute.
And far beyond the horizon, the Siren fleet continued its advance—unaware that they were no longer approaching a battlefield.
They were entering a kill zone.
"THE DATA NEVER SHOWS ANYTHING ABOUT THIS!!"
Purifier's voice cracked—no longer filled with arrogance, but with raw disbelief. Her eyes were locked on the sky, on the six colossal constructs hovering above the battlefield, with the Zeus dominating the center like a silent god of war.
This wasn't possible.
The humans of this world were nowhere near capable of this level of technology. They were centuries behind—primitive, fragmented, struggling just to survive against the Sirens.
And yet—
This existed.
If forces like these entered open combat with Siren fleets…
They wouldn't fight.
They would erase.
Her systems screamed for connection. She tried again—sending signals, distress calls, warnings to nearby fleets, to headquarters—
Nothing.
Blocked.
Silenced.
Cut off completely.
Her expression slowly shifted into horror.
"…Oh no…" she whispered. "The fleet…"
Above her, the machines settled into formation.
"The big boys are here now."
The voice came from the Iron Man armor—confident, almost amused—as the Kodiak battleships adjusted their positions mid-air, stabilizing after their Chronosphere insertion.
"Kodiak settling in… Heard you wanted something big. We're right here."
"Archangels online. Repair protocols ready. Awaiting tasking, sir."
"Sir?"
Yorktown and Laffey both turned instinctively, their eyes darting between the hovering warships and the young man standing before them.
This man…
Controlled all of it.
The realization hit them all at once.
The Kodiaks.
The Archangel.
That massive… Zeus.
All of it—
Answered to him.
Their bodies stiffened, instinctively stepping back as fear crept in once more—not of the Sirens this time…
But of him.
Yuuki exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off tension.
"Hahhh… finally," he muttered. "You drone boys took your time."
Then his tone changed.
Sharp.
Commanding.
Absolute.
"Kodiaks—form a three-point surround around the island," he ordered. "Sweep and clear all red signatures. Weapons hot."
A pause.
Then—
"Leave… none… alive."
The words landed heavily.
Yorktown flinched.
Laffey shrank slightly against her.
There was no hesitation in his voice.
No doubt.
No mercy.
Above, the Kodiaks responded instantly.
"Copy that… Surround formation acknowledged."
"Heard you loud and clear, kid."
Yuuki sighed faintly. Even now, they insisted on calling him that.
"Archangels," he continued, ignoring it, "shadow each Kodiak. Maintain repair priority. Deploy drones as needed. Keep yourselves shielded."
"To the task at hand," the Archangel replied calmly. "All units will be restored. All assets will be protected."
Yuuki's gaze lifted slightly.
"Zeus…"
A brief pause.
Then—
"Sweep and clear. Establish full control over the island. Deploy Athena Shield."
High above, the Zeus Battleship responded.
Its energy veins flared brighter.
The shield expanded.
A massive, shimmering dome began to spread outward from its hull—encompassing the island in layers of protective energy, isolating the battlefield entirely from the outside world.
A cage.
A fortress.
A kill zone.
And within it—
The Sirens had nowhere left to run.
"All units… open fire."
The command echoed—and the sky answered.
The three Kodiak-class battleships ignited their thrusters simultaneously, shockwaves rippling outward as they surged into position. The air itself seemed to split beneath their movement as they took formation across the island's perimeter, each one locking into a perfect triangular encirclement.
Below them, the Siren fleet reacted instantly.
Cruisers, destroyers, and battleships shifted into combat formation, their guns roaring to life as they opened fire. Shells streaked through the sky in rapid succession, explosive rounds slamming into the advancing behemoths. Some ships attempted to reposition, others held their ground—bound by their command protocols to engage whatever threat stood before them.
But this—
This was not a battle they understood.
High above, the Zeus moved.
Its embedded emitters flared, gathering energy into the collider cannons that burned brighter and brighter until—
It released.
Beams of condensed power lanced across the horizon.
There was no impact delay.
No warning.
Siren cruisers were cut apart mid-movement, their hulls splitting cleanly as if carved by an invisible blade. Destroyers vanished in flashes of light, reduced to fragments before they could even complete evasive maneuvers.
The Zeus did not bombard.
It deleted. Imagine all four collider cannons under their massive bodies shooting the same target.
Meanwhile, the Kodiaks began their own assault.
Their massive underside turrets rotated into position and fired.
The sky thundered.
Heavy artillery rounds descended like judgment, slamming into clustered Siren formations and detonating with catastrophic force. Entire sections of the fleet were engulfed in explosions, their formations collapsing under the sheer scale of bombardment.
Siren return fire struck back.
Shells impacted the Kodiaks' hulls—direct hits, multiple angles—but the result was negligible. The armor absorbed the force with minimal effect, barely registering the damage.
Then—
The Archangels engaged.
Four luminous beams extended from each support craft, locking onto the Kodiaks. Energy flowed steadily, reinforcing hull integrity while projecting a new layer of defense outward.
A spherical shield formed around each battleship.
Transparent.
Massive.
Hexagonal patterns flickered across its surface as incoming shells struck—and stopped.
Not deflected.
Not resisted.
Simply… halted.
Explosions bloomed harmlessly across the shield's surface, their energy dispersing into nothing.
Even without the shields, the Kodiaks could endure.
With them—
It became overwhelming.
Below, Siren fire continued relentlessly—but it no longer mattered.
The battlefield had shifted too far.
Up above, one of the Kodiaks transmitted across the channel, its tone almost… amused.
"They're in for a good time…"
Another followed, voice laced with confidence.
"Let's go make an introduction…"
A brief pause.
Then—
"Daddy's about to say hello."
And with that—
The bombardment intensified.
The sky became a storm of controlled annihilation, and the Siren fleet—once the rulers of the seas—
Was reduced to targets in a firing range.
When the Kodiaks reached optimal range—
they fired.
All twelve heavy barrels—forward and lateral—unleashed in perfect synchronization. The recoil alone distorted the air around them, a rolling thunder that shook the sky as their artillery roared to life.
The shells descended like judgment.
And then—
impact.
Each strike wasn't just destructive—it was decisive. A single shell tore through a Siren battleship, splitting its structure apart in one catastrophic blast. Another obliterated a carrier outright, reducing it to burning fragments before it could even react. Clusters of cruisers and destroyers vanished in chain explosions, erased in moments as if they had never existed.
There was no sustained engagement.
No prolonged exchange.
Just—
one hit.
One kill.
Over and over again.
The Siren fleet tried to respond. Their guns roared, their formations shifting, volleys of shells and energy fire rising desperately toward the airborne warships. Explosions bloomed against the Kodiaks' shields—but the transparent domes held firm, hexagonal patterns rippling as each impact was absorbed and dispersed.
And then something even worse—
The Kodiak shells phased through those same shields.
Like ghosts.
Unhindered.
Untouched.
What protected them did not protect their enemies.
Purifier watched it all unfold, her breath catching in her throat as realization set in. Her fleet—vast, powerful, dominant—was being dismantled in seconds.
Not weakened.
Not pushed back.
Erased.
Her voice failed her.
Because there were no commands left to give.
No strategy left to deploy.
Only inevitability.
Above, the Kodiaks continued their advance, gliding across the battlefield with terrifying calm. Wherever they passed, destruction followed. Fire. Ruin. Silence.
Nothing survived their path.
More Siren ships surged forward, flooding the area in a desperate attempt to overwhelm them—but it only made things worse. More targets. More clusters.
More opportunities.
The Kodiaks responded with something disturbingly close to enthusiasm.
"Squish 'em!"
"Let's shut 'em up for good!"
"They just keep sproutin' up!"
Their voices carried across the comms, almost playful—if not for the devastation that followed every word. Each new wave of enemies was met with heavier bombardment, faster targeting, more relentless fire.
The sky became a storm of artillery.
And below—
The ocean burned.
What had once been a dominant Siren fleet was now nothing more than scattered wreckage, sinking beneath waves stained with fire and light.
And the battle—
Was never close.
Yorktown and Laffey could only watch.
What unfolded before them no longer resembled a battle. There was no back-and-forth, no struggle, no desperate resistance. The Siren fleet—once an overwhelming force that had dominated the seas for years—was being erased with terrifying efficiency.
The Kodiak-class battleships moved like executioners in the sky. Their artillery struck with absolute certainty, each shot claiming a target without fail. The Sirens fired back relentlessly, but it didn't matter. Their attacks shattered harmlessly against layered defenses, while the Archangel support craft sustained and reinforced every Kodiak in real time.
Invulnerable.
Untouchable.
Unstoppable.
"This… isn't a fight…" Yorktown whispered, her voice barely audible.
Laffey clung to her side, her usual sleepy demeanor completely gone. "…They're… disappearing…" she murmured, eyes wide as another Siren vessel vanished in a distant explosion.
Yorktown's gaze slowly shifted.
Away from the destruction.
Toward him.
The man standing calmly amidst it all.
The one who had descended from the sky alone… faced the Sirens without hesitation… and dismantled them with his own hands. The one who commanded the Iron Legions as if they were extensions of his will. The one who had crippled Purifier—something no shipgirl, no fleet, no human force had ever accomplished.
And now—
He commanded this.
Those monsters in the sky.
Those weapons that rewrote the battlefield itself.
Her heart tightened.
Who… is he…?
Why had Azur Lane never mentioned someone like this? Not even in classified reports. Not even in the final days before the High Command fell. Three years of war, of loss, of waiting—and never once had his name surfaced.
No records.
No sightings.
No rumors.
Nothing.
As if he—
And everything he brought with him—
Had only just appeared in this world.
"…Big sister Yorktown…" Laffey tugged lightly at her sleeve. "…He's… not from here… is he…?"
Yorktown didn't answer immediately.
Because deep down—
She already knew.
This wasn't just advanced technology.
This wasn't just a hidden faction.
This was something else entirely.
Her eyes remained fixed on Yuuki, watching the way he stood—calm, composed, untouched by the chaos he commanded.
"…No…" she said quietly.
"…He's not."