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Chapter Text

Laboratory

Location: ???

Exact location: ???

Inside a laboratory hidden and unknown to the general public, two scientists watched closely several women confined to hospital beds. They were all in a coma, immobilized by restraints on their bodies and confined within glass boxes.

The glass displayed a peculiar blue tint, while plates below the beds showed names like "Laffey," "Formidable," "Warspite," "Hornet," "Yorktown," and "Illustrious" – all names of famous ships. Each name corresponded to a woman in a coma.

The two scientists, one German and the other Italian, both wearing lab coats, headed to another area of the laboratory where more women were confined to hospital beds inside glass tubes.

This area, in contrast to the previous one, was spacious and slightly darker, with some clothes arranged around. The same scene repeated in the previous room, where women were contained in blue tubes, now with the addition of a mysterious aura around them. These women were also named after famous ships, such as "Graf Spee," "Graf Zeppelin," "Königsberg," and "Deutschland," with a woman named "Tirpitz" among them.

While observing the women in the tubes, the two scientists carried on a conversation between themselves.

The two scientists continued their conversation as they decided to leave that area of the laboratory and eventually exited the environment altogether.

After some time following their departure, unbeknownst to them, they inadvertently allowed a particular girl to awaken, long after their respective departures...

Point of View of ???

‘Have they already left?’ The young woman, appearing to be around 25 years old, questioned herself mentally, opening her eyes to find herself inside a red glass tube.

"Wo bin ich? (Where am I?)" She asked herself, noticing that her throat was extremely dry, as if she hadn't had water in centuries.

‘I need to get out of here…’ She thought, observing other girls seemingly in a coma due to some kind of serum around them, presumably present in the tubes.

Finding herself in a vast area with girls contained in red glass tubes, the young woman noticed that each one was identified by a name engraved below her tube.

As she tried to move, she realized she was trapped by restraints around her body, preventing any movement. Trying to loosen her arms, she could hear the sound of the restraints tightening around her body, seemingly made of sturdy material.

Persisting in her movements, hearing the noises of the restraints giving in to her strength, although she couldn't free herself completely, she considerably damaged the restraints.

She continued to sway until finally managing to exit the red glass tube, causing a sudden movement of the bed and the tube as a whole, accompanied by a crash as the glass shattered in all directions.

"Ugh… Was zum Teufel… Vielleicht hätte ich mich besser darauf vorbereiten sollen… (What the hell... Maybe I should have prepared myself better for this…)" She murmured while groaning in pain after falling heavily to the ground, among the glass and the bed.

As she realized the restraints were loose thanks to her own efforts to remove them, the young woman finally managed to free herself.

When she stood up, freed from the restraints that bound her from waist to feet, she could finally better examine the place where she was and try to unravel the meaning of this perplexing situation.

"Was ist das für ein Ort? Was ist das alles? (What is this place? What does it all mean?)" She wondered, still feeling the pain from the fall, as her eyes scanned the surroundings and glimpsed the other young women still unconscious, much like she had been just moments ago.

With effort, she shifted sideways and turned towards the tube that had kept her imprisoned, managing to decipher the name engraved on a metal plate lying a few inches away, after the crash of the deliberately caused fall.

"Tirpitz."

Upon encountering the name, a wave of recognition washed over her, as if a sudden insight illuminated her...

It was then that painful memories assaulted her mind, bringing to the surface her true identity: KMS Tirpitz, the second and last ship of the Bismarck class in that conflict. This was who she was.

"Meine Schwester…"

A battleship that had never experienced real fire, never having unleashed its cannons in combat against an enemy.

It was the second greatest pride of the Kriegsmarine, a pride that ended up relegated to oblivion in the waters off northern Norway until it was shot down by Royal Air Force Lancasters in 1944, a terrible and unworthy fate for a vessel intended to be grand.

Built and launched as the second exponent of German naval power after its sister, Bismarck. They were conceived to be unstoppable war machines, destined to dominate the seas and ruthlessly annihilate their adversaries.

At least, that's what they said when Bismarck was launched, she still remembered...

It was the second in command of the Kriegsmarine and consequently, the ultimate battleship at its disposal after the sinking of its sister in 1941.

When her sister sank on her first mission, she, Tirpitz, was upgraded to be much more than a mere steel fortress, unlike her predecessor, as was rumored before her departure for her first mission.

For three years, she was the flagship of the Kriegsmarine, only to be abandoned in Norway and prevented from fulfilling the role assigned to her by her title and lineage.

Only to, in the end, be relegated to oblivion and sink without ever having seen real combat, with more than two-thirds of her crew perishing in that attack... To die inside her own hull, without hope of rescue…

"Sie sind wütend… (They are furious…)" She could feel, perceive the anger of her crew and their convictions, feeling outraged and humiliated by the fate they and Tirpitz faced over the years of that conflict until 1944.

She, along with her vessel, embodied the pinnacle of German engineering, demonstrating its effectiveness by being repaired after suffering severe damage.

However, in the end, not even a tribute, not even a dignified outcome was granted to her and her crew.

"Lasst uns erstmal hier raus… (Let's find a way out first...)" She pronounced, fixing her gaze on the plaque for another moment before starting the search for an escape route. In her search, she spotted a military naval uniform in the room, along with other similar attire.

"Ahhh... Die schöne Admiralsuniform der Kriegsmarine... Eine schöne Auswahl an Kleidung… (Ahhh... The beautiful admiral's uniform of the Kriegsmarine... An enchanting selection of outfits…)" She murmured, contemplating the white uniform adorned with details like a small cape attached to the garment and a sword at her waist, accompanied by equally immaculate gloves.

"Ich ziehe mich besser schnell an... Ich will nicht länger an diesem Ort bleiben… (I'd better get dressed quickly... I don't want to stay here any longer…)" Stripping off the thin white robe that enveloped her, Tirpitz began the process of donning the admiral's uniform, whose name was inscribed just below the mannequin displaying it.

Upon completing the attire and securing the sword in its sheath at her waist, she cast one more glance around and headed for the exit, determined to free herself from that perplexing environment.

~•~

"Ein Strand… (A beach)" It took some time to find the right direction, but she finally reached a beach in an unknown location, which, to say the least, was desolate.

"Der Ozean… (The ocean…)" The sound of the serene waters at night brought Tirpitz a nostalgic feeling, evoking the serene and worry-free nights during her years in northern Norway.

They were long years in northern Norway, primarily spent waiting for the incessant attacks from the RAF to cease.

With all of that happening, all that was left for her was to listen to the calm waters of Norway, enjoying the rare occasions when the bombardments didn't disturb her, allowing her to savor a brief moment of peace in the icy waters of the North.

She and her crew spent years in this regime...

While immersed in these thoughts, Tirpitz ended up recalling a song that her crew created while stationed in Norway.

This was one of several songs that her crew composed during that period, but unlike the others, this one seemed to have stood out among them because they sang it more frequently than any other.

"From the northern waters of Norway emerges the silhouette of a ship...

The silence of the gods is about to end and turn into hell itself

This ship is the true power, it is the true symbol of strength

Everyone, flee far away!

This ship is setting sail to fulfill its mission!

It is the second greatest pride of a nation, much larger than a steel beast

A queen, an empress, a true and unstoppable leader made of the most powerful steel!

Tirpitz is underway, the absolute leader and empress of the oceans!

She was built to dominate all seas!

And she will not allow herself to be dominated by anyone!

Even if it's a God!

Built to command and lead the true war machine!

Tirpitz is the true commander who controls the waves and leader of the Kriegsmarine!

She is far above the devil and his knights of the apocalypse!

It is she who leads the seas!

It's Tirpitz!

The empress of the oceans and leader of the Kriegsmarine who will bring victory!

Two thousand and sixty-five thousand men and fifty-two thousand tons of steel set sail to fulfill their mission!

The Atlantic fears her arrival and the allies dare to pursue her and her crew

They will see what power is, the true definition of a cannon in action

All in combat! The enemy is right in sight!

In formation! The empress's hunt has begun!

They are all doomed, they all died due to the audacity of pursuing her and trying to kill her!

She dominates all seas with just one of her cannons!

Built to command and lead the true war machine!

Tirpitz is the true commander who controls the waves and leader of the Kriegsmarine!

She is far above the devil and his knights of the apocalypse!

It is she who leads the seas!

It's Tirpitz!

No one can stop her

Not even the abyss dares to take her to the depths

The underworld fears her and reveres her

The heavens embrace her and protect her, for the angels and God have accepted her as their absolute leader!

Any enemy who dares to stand in her way will feel the wrath of her cannons!

Cannons that not even God and the Devil dare to challenge

They felt the wrath of the absolute leader of the oceans and the great war machine!

She is the greatest pride of a nation, the absolute empress of the oceans!

Tirpitz is underway! The empress will drive the sinners out of her territory!

Built to command and lead the true war machine!

Tirpitz is the true commander who controls the waves and leader of the Kriegsmarine!

She is far above the devil and his knights of the apocalypse!

It is she who leads the seas!

It's Tirpitz!

She who will lead the oceans and everything she passes through!

This is Tirpitz! The empress and legendary flagship of the Kriegsmarine!

The great lady of the ocean and the abyss!

She is far above Bismarck!

She is the true definition of a leader and an empress and emperor!

She is Tirpitz! Supreme leader of the Kriegsmarine and empress of the oceans!"

(Sorry if this song turned out bad, but it's what I could think of.)

What nostalgia to sing this melody in front of the vast ocean ahead...

In the days of monotony, someone always sang this or another song to lift the crew's spirits or dispel boredom before and after the incessant attacks from the RAF, which so afflicted them.

However, this song echoed among them in moments of rest, when they were not exercising to maintain physical fitness.

Even the KzS participated in these activities with the crew, as there wasn't much else to do in those days. Attack suggestions were vetoed due to the severe restrictions imposed.

At times, it was more intriguing to observe the movements of the fish as they sheltered in the Norwegian waters than to pay attention to the global war. There were moments when she even forgot she was involved in the conflict until abruptly reminded by her own crew and the incessant bombardments from the RAF.

As she advanced along the beach, Tirpitz moved with slow steps toward the sea, listening to the subtle sound of her boots in the sand.

It was as if the ocean was calling her...

She could feel, discern the voice of the sea summoning her presence...

Calling her back to the place that rightfully belonged to her...

To the domain she should exercise and the demonstration of her sovereignty over that war and those seas...

Highlighting the fear that the Bismarck class still imposed, even after the sinking of her sister...

Towards the sea she advanced, feeling the waters begin to brush against her boots as she approached the blue horizon.

As Tirpitz moved toward the sea, preparing to enter the deeper parts while slowly closing her eyes, she was surprised by an unexpected sensation, instead of the water brushing against her shins.

Upon opening her eyes, her senses were sharpened by the sight of the four imposing twin-gun turrets of her ship, erected on individual decks, each adorned with metallic shark mouths. Furthermore, she spotted the robust 53.3 cm torpedo tubes lined on the sides.

Looking back, she encountered other sections of her vessel, including the majestic command tower and the formidable anti-aircraft weapons, distributed on the peculiar four decks. In her left hand, she held a mast displaying a flag evoking the colors of the German flag, and upon closer examination, she realized that the mast could be employed as a powerful spear.

"Meine Waffen…" She murmured, staring at the guns and the four metallic sharks that supported the main cannons of her ship.

As she gazed at the metallic sharks, Tirpitz noticed they seemed to be watching her back. She decided to lightly caress them, without fear, after all, they were her weapons, living beings, but still, weapons.

With the mast in one hand, she leaned it slightly on her shoulder to check the watch that accompanied it. Whoever had prepared that uniform for her was quite competent in including essential items like binoculars, a map, a compass, and a watch.

"In fünf Minuten ist es Mitternacht… (In five minutes it will be midnight…)" She murmured to herself, watching the time pass. Midnight would soon be upon her.

As she took the mast back into her hands, Tirpitz found herself faced with a dilemma.

Where should she head?

Although armed with a map, the question was to discover her current location. Initially, she considered being in icy regions near Norway, or perhaps in the Baltic Sea, or even in the Soviet Union. However, she realized she was not in any part of Europe. The quality of the ocean water was distinct, although she couldn't discern precisely how, she only knew she was not on European soil.

However, she was at least presumably in the vastness of the Atlantic. She wasn't sure, but could only conceive of two distant destinations in the Atlantic that fit the criteria of coldness: Iceland and Greenland, which made her route somewhat more complex.

She could inadvertently cross paths with British and American ships; since the mid-1942s, things had become harsh with the increasing American presence in the North Atlantic and later in the South. Tirpitz did not wish to encounter the American fleet; it would be suicide, as by the unfolding of 1943, the American navy rose as a colossus, with its ships being mass-produced.

"Wo gehe ich hin? (Where should I head?)" She sighed, using her free hand to scratch the back of her short white hair. If her conjectures were correct and she was in the vicinity of Iceland or Greenland, she would find herself in the heart of one of the Allied bases and could not simply navigate carelessly.

She had heard praises about Iceland during its construction in the 1930s, but later only heard curses when the war broke out and Iceland became an obstacle for Germany and the Kriegsmarine, as the British and Americans used it as a naval base. It was one of the Allied strongholds that the Kriegsmarine failed to penetrate between 1940 and 1942.

As her mind delved into deep reveries, suddenly, a strange text appeared to the right of her vision.

BERECHNETES ZIEL: 

Marinestützpunkt [Unbekannt]

"Well, it seems to simplify things" Reflected Tirpitz as she spotted another screen with information appearing in another corner, this time showing the route she should follow.

"So here we go, it's not like I have another option..." Tirpitz murmured with a sigh at the end of the sentence, beginning her journey towards that mysterious base.

Following the indicated route, as she had no better alternatives across the vast Atlantic, she turned off her spotlight and any devices that could compromise her visually. She navigated her way through the waters, singing some naval military songs. If the calculations were correct, it would take at least 8 weeks to reach that unknown base at cruising speed.

It would be a rather long journey, but a welcome one for Tirpitz. This time, she wouldn't be confined in Norway with nothing to do.

Chapter Text

In the secluded laboratory...

After Tirpitz's escape from the confines of captivity, the fragile vials containing her lay shattered throughout the room, while the once-restrictive restraints now lay inert. Her white robe lay near a mannequin stripped of its clothing, a silent witness to this small commotion.

Furthermore, an imposing monitor pulsed in intermittent scarlet light, accompanied by the shrill wail reverberating through the room where Tirpitz had once been imprisoned.

However...

Echoes of laughter resonated through the corridors of the sinister facility. The artisans of that laboratory, a German scientist and an Italian, roamed with insensitive nonchalance, oblivious to the events that had transpired.

Yet, these brief moments of jubilation were abruptly cut short upon reentering the room. Contentment gave way to astonishment and terror at the macabre scene that unfolded before them.

Among the vials labeled with the names "Yorck" and "Felix Schultz," the bed and supports lay strewn across the floor, surrounded by crimson shards. A white robe lay in front of a mannequin devoid of clothing. The room shrouded in darkness, only illuminated by the intermittent pulsing of the scarlet monitor and the endless piercing lament echoing in that atmosphere heavy with unease.

"Che cazzo! How did this happen?!" Exclaimed the Italian scientist, rushing towards a second nearby monitor, while his German colleague followed, both astonished by the unfolding scene.

"Scheisse... How could I know?! But Tirpitz managed to escape from its containment!" Retorted the German scientist, staring at the sudden words flashing on the upper monitor, indicating the security breach and the lab breach, while his Italian partner typed frantically on the second nearby terminal.

"Come spiegheremo questo? If the superiors find out what happened here... Then, you and I will be condemned to death!" The Italian expressed his distress, evidencing frustration as his fingers danced over the keyboard, as if misfortune was eager to manifest itself.

The two men heard the door creak open, revealing the figure of a man with distinct British features, staring at them imperturbably, without a trace of a smile on his face.

~•~

In the midst of the vast ocean...

Perspective of Tirpitz

"Ahhh... Did Bismarck feel this before encountering the British?" A sigh escaped her lips, while a faint smile traced her face. Gliding over the waters after so long was providing her with a comforting sensation.

The sky was beginning to lighten, and she had chosen to wake up earlier. In her calculations, there were only a few hours left until reaching that unknown naval base, but there was no rush. The brisk and chilly breeze of the Atlantic was revitalizing.

Despite the journey being serene, Tirpitz remained vigilant. She couldn't afford distractions, for she sailed in potentially hostile territory and could encounter the Americans at any moment.

Memories served as persistent warnings. The sinking of the Graf Spee in 1939 remained a vivid reminder of the danger the British posed, especially in these vast waters of the Atlantic.

"Wenn die Dinge einfacher wären... (If things were easier...)" Murmured Tirpitz, as she consulted her radar and scanned the distance through binoculars.

Eight weeks had passed since the journey began. Eight weeks of silence, no radio, no searchlights, no light that could reveal her presence at night. However, this allowed her to enhance her night vision, preparing for possible combat under darkness. Tirpitz didn't want to be caught off guard and seized every moment for intensive training.

The crossing continued peacefully, but Tirpitz remained alert, unable to divert her attention. Until suddenly, the sharp beep of the radar warned her of an imminent approach.

“Haben sie meinen Standort entdeckt? (Have they discovered my location?)” Tirpitz immediately went on high alert, turning towards the approaching red dots on the radar. The two dots seemed to be sailing towards her.

Had they discovered her location? Or could it be a ship from a neutral nation coming to investigate? But that didn't make sense. Tirpitz had constantly scanned the skies to ensure no aircraft were spying on her. Her radars and eyes hadn't detected any aircraft presence. Could it be a submarine? It was a plausible possibility. Even from a great distance, submarines could spot ship shapes or ship points and inform the navy of their presence.

Many possibilities ran through Tirpitz's mind. The two points on the radar could represent any ships from other nations. If they were approaching for a closer interception, her efforts of silent navigation could be futile.

Her guns were already ready. All four turrets were loaded. Tirpitz wouldn't allow herself to be sunk now. Slowly, her guns moved towards the two mysterious points on the radar.

She had to admit, she was a bit eager at the thought of fighting other ships. Perhaps it was because she had been in real combat against enemy ships during the war years until her sinking in 1944.

Despite trying to conceal it, Tirpitz was getting anxious to fire her guns at hostile ships. Even the sharks seemed to convey the anxious feeling for a naval battle.

The only time she could use her guns was to bombard a distant and strategically insignificant island. Tirpitz soon realized that mission, along with the Scharnhorst, was purely political.

News spread quickly throughout the navy. It didn't take long for her and her sailors to learn that Hitler had ordered the dismantling of the entire surface fleet and the resignation of Erich Raeder. Her presence in northern Norway was delaying many Allied plans. So, they wouldn't withdraw her from there. Her concerns at the time were for the Scharnhorst and her other escort companions.

As her guns slowly turned towards the two points that her eyes could barely distinguish, Tirpitz slowed down her own ship to improve her aim and identify the targets.

Despite the naval battle procedures she was conducting, the two ships were too far away for her to clearly distinguish. They were at the limit of her radars.

However, Tirpitz could tell that those two points were not ships due to their shape. They seemed to be like her, beings capable of walking and sliding under the waters with a human appearance.

"Who sind sie? Sie sehen nicht feindlich aus, so wie sie segeln… (Who are they? They don't seem hostile from the way they're sailing...)" Tirpitz wondered, trying to identify them by radar and the direction they seemed to be coming from before using her binoculars.

‘There's no way... Looking with the naked eyes at this distance is asking to use glasses…’ Tirpitz spoke as she grabbed her binoculars to observe the appearance of the approaching ships.

They were two women. The first one appeared to be about 21 years old, with extremely pale skin and bright blue eyes. She wore a white blouse and tight shorts, as well as large and apparently metallic gloves, holding an oil drum.

The second woman aroused even more curiosity in Tirpitz. Her skin was blue, just like her eyes. She wore a sailor-designed dress.

Her equipment was simpler than the first woman's, with what appeared to be two strange aircraft flight decks, she also held a hammer in one hand and a screwdriver in the other.

Contemplating her next move, Tirpitz momentarily set aside her binoculars while pondering her options. At least, she could assert that those two girls did not belong to any known navy.

"Alle Kampfstationen in höchste Alarmbereitschaft versetzen! Diese beiden Wesen könnten immer noch feindlich gesinnt sein! (All battle stations, be on high alert! These two beings could still be hostile!)" Giving her first command to her guns, Tirpitz heard the *click* of her cannons, followed by the battle mode.

Determined to maintain silence to avoid being detected by more ships or navies, Tirpitz sent a coded message to the two beings in the distance. She also didn't want to shoot down potential allies in case there was negotiation.

.--. .-.. . .- ... . / -... --- - .... / --- ..-. / -.-- --- ..- / ..- . ... - . .-. ... . 

(Please identify yourself)

After a few minutes to confirm the message had been sent, Tirpitz used the binoculars to check if the two had received the communication.

The woman with pale skin seemed to have received the message, as she began to speak with the blue-skinned girl beside her, initiating an apparent discussion about what they should do. Did they not understand naval codes? Nevertheless, Tirpitz didn't lower her guard, keeping all her weapons ready for combat and watching for any approaching submarines.

Narrator's Point of View

For a moment, the sea trembled beneath the might of Tirpitz, her guns ready to roar and claim what she deemed hers by right. It was a contained power, expressed only by the silent threat of a gesture.

If the sea could speak, it would surely express a silent gratitude for Tirpitz's cannons retracting. It wasn't the moment, at least not yet. Respect for the rules of the naval game was evident, though the will to act was palpable.

As much as it longed for combat, Tirpitz was not reckless. With four commanders by November 1944, she understood the importance of holding the line and logic to avoid the fatal fate that had befallen other ships, like her sister, Bismarck. The blame didn't solely rest upon her; the high command of the Kriegsmarine could have provided more escorts, such as destroyers, despite the known design and construction problems they had.

Tirpitz awaited a response from the vessels in her sights, drastically reducing her speed while closely observing through the binoculars. The two still seemed to be in discussion, which caused her a sigh of disappointment. The lack of familiarity with basic naval protocols was evident.

[We are friends! We are not enemies! We were the ones who showed that open signal!]

The female voice, jovial and strange, echoed through the airwaves, surprising Tirpitz. Arching an eyebrow, she lowered the binoculars upon recognizing the speaker's identity.

[Please, identify yourselves first. I don't want to take unnecessary risks.]

Tirpitz wondered how those two were still alive. If they were found by Americans or British, they would surely face a warning or even immediate sinking. The delay in responding and approaching without identification was a defiance of naval codes, something that could result in disastrous consequences. According to Kriegsmarine protocols, a third warning would not be granted.

The voice wasn't the only impasse; it was the singular conduct of those two figures that compelled Tirpitz to wait patiently for a response.

[Alright, then you can call me Supply Depot Princess and the other one Dock Princess!]

Tirpitz, wrapping the binoculars around her neck, suppressed the urge to sigh or massage her temples. It all seemed like a theater of dubious tastes. The eccentricity of the two personalities coupled with the unconventional names only amplified the strangeness of the moment. Not even the Americans would indulge in such designations.

It was laughable to imagine naming a ship Heinrich Friedrich-Schieffer Wilhelm Büchner von Schmidtendorff when they could simply name it Heinrich von Schmidtendorff. Although it wasn't implausible to conceive of vessels with such monikers, it was highly unlikely that the crew would adopt them; they would certainly prefer simpler nicknames like Daisy, Maria, or any opportune abbreviation.

Maintaining her composure, Tirpitz awaited the next communication, refraining from dwelling on the absurd names of the visitors. She preferred to wait and see the subsequent unfoldings, although she was already persuaded of the lack of insight behind their actions.

[It was us who launched that signal! We were seeking possible allies and aimed to attract their attention!]

What a foolish plan... That was Tirpitz's first impression. Who in their right mind would reveal their location just to garner allies? It was like begging to be shot unnecessarily. They could have emitted the signal from a distant location in the Atlantic and set a trap if approached by adversaries.

Deciding to wait for the two, despite their glaring lack of sagacity, Tirpitz gradually cooled her weapons. It would take some time for the visitors to approach, not in terms of meters, but a few kilometers, as they had veered beyond the radar ranges.

Calculating that it would take about an hour and a half for them to reach Tirpitz, the captain observed them again through the binoculars. Although she already had an idea of their appearance, it was still intriguing to glimpse a woman so pale she almost seemed albino and another with blue skin. In silence, Tirpitz made an internal joke about the blue hue of the shorter of the two.

‘Hmmm... They might be skilled in ambushes if they know how to keep silent, but in a direct confrontation, they would be the first to fall if they didn't flee’ Thought Tirpitz, finally exhaling the sigh she had been holding since the beginning of the situation.

"Well... I suppose you must have some questions, but we'll continue towards the base. It will be more prudent to elucidate what we know during the journey" Said Supply Depot Princess, the pale-skinned woman with glasses, before taking the lead. It seemed like the two had no notion of presentation protocols or were simply in a hurry.

~•~

It was hours of navigation to the base, in the company of the two ladies, and Tirpitz found it extremely peculiar when suddenly they entered into a fog that formed out of nowhere during the voyage.

Although the fog didn't raise great concern for Tirpitz — after all, it wasn't the first time she sailed in similar conditions — it was intriguing that a fog would arise without prior warning, especially when the weather conditions didn't indicate signs of winter or storm.

"Why this fog? There's no sign of winter or storm for today..." Inquired Tirpitz, observing the fog thickening as they advanced straight ahead. Despite the compromised visual visibility, the radars and electronic navigation devices compensated for it, thanks to the extensive modifications made to Tirpitz between late 1941 and October 1943, not limited to just weapons.

"The fog is a protective measure. If someone didn't know the way to the base, they would easily get lost and end up somewhere unknown beyond this fog" Explained Eliza, the blue-skinned woman, as if the phenomenon was nothing special to her or the other girl.

Interesting, pondered Tirpitz. A fog created to protect the base. Although this was not new to her — after all, half of her career in Norway involved hiding among mountains and fjords with the Kriegsmarine's artificial mists to better camouflage herself — a dense fog like this, without being artificial, was intriguing. She planned to inquire of the two how they managed to create this effect at some opportune moment.

As time progressed, the mist that clung to the world with pale, cold fingers began to dissipate, gradually revealing the imposing silhouette of the naval base. And when Tirpitz, with eagle eyes, finally tore through the gray veil, the grandeur of that maritime fortress assaulted her.

From her vantage point, it became clear that the base was not just a mere stopping point for ships, but the pulsating heart of colossal naval and aerial operations. A forest of piers thrust out to sea, challenging the horizon with its vastness. Dry and wet docks dotted the coast like scars on the land, while warehouses rose up, concrete and metal sentinels, guardians of secrets and supplies.

And beyond, where the eye reached aided by spy glasses, hangars that housed the famous winged beasts, strategic bases whispering orders to the wind, and communication stations capturing the voices of the skies. Radars and antennas intertwined, a dance of giants, weaving an invisible net that covered the island.

In a distance that memory reached, but feet hesitated, a neighborhood of structures unfolded like a chessboard. Administrative offices, barracks with the elegance of small palaces, mess halls promising banquets, hospitals that were temples of hope, and quarters that whispered dreams of rest. Cafés and restaurants punctuated the space, islands of conviviality and delight, while entertainment areas sang songs of forgetfulness and joy.

For Tirpitz, it was the first time her eyes opened to a naval base of such stature, a leviathan of resources and possibilities. And with the certainty of a shared secret, she knew that such a bastion could only rest in the bosom of the German soil, an echo of her memories of construction. A pang of sympathy welled up in her chest for the architects of concealment, who wove veils over the base and the island, hiding them not only from German eyes but also from the allies. It was an inescapable truth that a structure of such magnitude would not remain invisible for long.

(I also tried to find an image that matched the description, but I couldn't, so I used these two images that are already on Wattpad, the first is the shape of the island more or less and the second image is what the naval base looks like, at least a little)

As Tirpitz approached, an unusual element captured her attention, standing out amidst the vastness of concrete and sea: a colossal building, rising in the heart of the base, between bureaucratic offices and disciplined barracks. Its majestic silhouette evoked, albeit in a diffuse manner, the grandeur of the Reichstag, stirring a whirlwind of questions in the captain's mind.

'What the hell was the Kriegsmarine thinking when they built this base?' she wondered, as her eyes fixed on the towering mast where the Kriegsmarine flag fluttered, a specter of power at the mercy of the wind.

As they advanced, it became evident to Tirpitz that the base lay abandoned, surrendered to time and oblivion. The grandeur still lingered, but it was like a melody played on out-of-tune instruments, a symphony of ruins and memories. The roof, in particular, appeared vulnerable, betrayed by the passage of years and the absence of care.

The sight instilled in Tirpitz a deep melancholy, an echo of the days when she herself emerged from the waters of Wilhelmshaven, clad in promises and hopes. The memory of her naval baptism day resurfaced, when greatness seemed not only possible but inevitable. The faces of the people, a sea of hopeful gazes, reflected in her mind – adults with their dreams of glory, children with their eyes shining with fascination and admiration for the steel giant.

“Today, a flame of hope has been lit for us, the German people. This ship, this magnificent ship, is not just an ordinary vessel. It will be the mast, the tip of the spear, and the shield of our nation. It will be the guardian and the pride of the Navy, and its name shall be Tirpitz.”

The sight of that flag, dancing in the wind, brought to Tirpitz a melancholy that permeated the fibers of her being. Memories of camaraderie and days under the aegis of that insignia flooded her mind.

"Is this your wife, Frank?"

"Yes, before I left, she informed me she was pregnant. When I return, I'll bring back some mementos of Tirpitz for my daughter."

"You're a father? Albert! Frank's a father!"

"Shut up, Marcus!"

"Haha..."

Almost everything was remembered by her. Tirpitz had been a silent witness to the conversations and confidences, from the corridors to the bridge. The memories, the promises, even the most mundane ones, taught her the weight of being German, of being a guardian, a leader. "She will be the mast, the tip of the spear, the shield of the nation" - such words reverberated in her innermost being, embraced even in the unworthy farewell.

Following Eliza and Mia, a solitary tear traced a path down her cheek, a silent witness to the promises and dreams now relegated to oblivion, known only to Tirpitz.

"When this war ends, Jakob, how about we go to Potsdam? I know great places with drinks and women!"

"Is that all you think about, Franz? But this time, I'm in. When the war ends, we'll go to Potsdam and get drunk!"

Dismissing such thoughts, Tirpitz observed parts of the base that resisted the ravages of time, maintained with care. It wasn't hard to conclude that Eliza and Mia, such enigmatic figures, tended to those corners with unmatched dedication.

"May I ask how long you two have been at this base?" Tirpitz inquired, gathering her binoculars and making her way to the nearest pier, driven by an unshakeable curiosity.

"Oh, it's been quite a while, actually... I'd say we've been here for about 2 and a half years, almost 3 already," Eliza replied, her voice carrying the weight of time, approaching one of the docks while Tirpitz chose the pier that seemed most inviting to her.

Upon reaching the pier, Tirpitz allowed herself a moment of introspection, closing her eyes as she felt the blue cubes detaching from her, a luminous metamorphosis that transformed her equipment into shimmering fragments, converging to shape her ship. The familiarity of the process did not diminish the spectacle; even after eight weeks, the sight of her ship, armed and imposing, ready for battle, still elicited a sigh of admiration from her.

To behold her vessel, with all weapons at the ready, was a sight that stirred her heart. But it was her presence in that naval base, even if abandoned, that filled her with a renewed sense of purpose, a reminder of the mission entrusted to her ages ago.

(Her ship is in a place like this)

"Ahhh... This still brings me good sensations…" Tirpitz murmured, her hand caressing the hull of her ship, which gleamed with the glory of yesteryears, before the war had drawn its scars on the world.

The presence in that naval base, even in abandonment, stirred within her a feeling of greatness, perhaps more poignant than in the days when she challenged the icy waters of Norway.

"It seems like you're adjusting quickly. That's good, it'll make things much easier" Commented Mia, drawing Tirpitz's gaze, who turned to the two figures, now distant from the pier where her ship lay anchored.

"I'm just a ship, am I not? So, I've been to places like this before going North…" Tirpitz murmured, with a breath of nostalgia, as her memories sailed back to the days before her mission in Norway, and her steps led her towards the two enigmatic companions.

With a nod, Mia and Eliza led Tirpitz towards the imposing building that evoked the Reichstag, an architectural enigma that sowed doubts in the captain's mind. Why would such an emblematic construction rise in a naval base? This question echoed in her thoughts as they advanced.

The young women shared fragments of the modern world with Tirpitz, whose knowledge of the currents of time had stagnated. The narratives of global changes were like an intriguing maze to her, with transformations more radical than she could have imagined, and yet, some pieces of this puzzle would be useful to her.

The absence of details about other nations, however, tinged her curiosity with frustration. It wasn't a matter of judgment, but the gap left by these crucial pieces of information was palpable and disappointing.

"I hope to have the opportunity to learn more about what's happening" Tirpitz murmured, fully aware of the value of this data to her. Meanwhile, her eyes scanned the "Naval Reichstag," observing the marks of abandonment and neglect that time had impressed on its facade.

As they entered the building, the three were met with a large room containing several chairs and a table in the center, with a chair positioned behind it. Tirpitz immediately recognized that setup, as she had seen this image many times in newspapers and photos that arrived on her ship during refueling or when sailors headed to the makeshift naval base of the Kriegsmarine in northern Norway.

It was a scaled-down replica of the interior of the real Reichstag. Doing a quick mental count, Tirpitz estimated that the room could accommodate between 20 to 30 officers or high-ranking military personnel for important and emergency meetings. But who would occupy that leader's chair? The mere presence of that chair in the center of the room could trigger intricate military-political plots, something Tirpitz was familiar with from her first to her last commanders, all involved in such games at some point.

Walking up to the central table, Tirpitz saw Eliza and Mia sit on top of the table, leaving the chair empty for her to sit. Tirpitz followed suit and sat down, watching the two with a doubtful expression on her face.

"Now that you're here, it's valid for us to start discussing the reactivation of this base... Your presence gives us an incentive to act, and it would be excellent to put this base back into operation" Informed Mia, crossing her arms and closing her eyes. To some extent, this made sense to Tirpitz. Eliza and Mia seemed to have wanted to reactivate the base for some time, but the lack of resources made it a major obstacle. Now, with Tirpitz's presence, a battleship, the two seemed more hopeful.

"Furthermore, before we met, we discovered an underground laboratory and some documents useful for reactivating this base... And since you seem capable of reading that language, we will take you there" Added Eliza, letting out a sigh at the end of her speech, as if unburdening a great responsibility.

"An underground laboratory!? Is there really one here?" Surprised by the revelation, Tirpitz saw Eliza and Mia confirm her question with a nod. Leaning back in her chair, she pondered this unexpected information, wondering why the Kriegsmarine would have installed an underground laboratory beneath a naval base.

Then, Tirpitz initiated a discussion about the laboratory, trying to extract as much information about it as possible, while also debating with the two on how they could reactivate the base. In the end, it was Tirpitz who prevailed in the discussion, convincing the two to further explore the laboratory in search of possible useful resources.

Azur Lane Base in the North Atlantic…

In ancient times, an urgent missive from the Azur Lane High Command crossed the seas, bringing disturbing news: the Tirpitz, the steel leviathan, had broken free from its Icelandic slumber. Nine moons had passed since its escape, and the commander was tasked with a Herculean mission: capture the beast or, should it bare its claws, send it to the abyssal depths before the world awakened to the truth of its existence.

At this moment, the commander, ensconced in his office, contemplated the war table. A task force had been summoned, gathering the winged messengers of 'Operation Tungsten', to hunt down the elusive battleship.

However, fate, in its whimsical weave, had unraveled meticulously woven plans. The aircraft carriers, still not risen from the ashes of the previous battle, lay inert. Only the Victorious, as its name foretold, remained unscathed. In place of the Furious, the Glorious had been called upon, though it shared the same misfortune of an existence not yet realized.

No less astute, the commander interwove German allies into his fleet, a stratagem to unsettle the mind of Tirpitz, witnessing her compatriots sailing under the British flag. A dark stratagem, but war knows no color of mercy.

Here is the list of those summoned to the macabre dance on the seas:

Aircraft carriers:

- Victorious

- Glorious

Battleship:

- Howe

Battlecruiser:

- Scharnhorst

Heavy cruisers:

- Deutschland

Light cruisers:

- Newcastle

- Penelope

- Glasgow

Destroyers:

- Z24

- Z26

"Hear me, sailors! I summon you to a battle against a specter of our seas, Tirpitz! The Kansen who renounced Azur Lane!" Proclaimed the commander, raising the effigy of the battleship Tirpitz, captured in times past in the icy waters of Northern Norway.

"Victorious, as the sole soul to witness Operation Tungsten, you are chosen to lead this hunt!" Exclaimed the commander, with a laughter that echoed through the walls of the office, while Victorious, with a solemn nod, accepted the burden of leadership.

"Dismissed until the twilight of the last 1,488 days! Set forth now in pursuit of that cursed sea leviathan or condemn her to the depths if she resists the call of return!" Bellowed the commander, and the ships of the Royal Navy, like warhorses, pivoted on their steel heels, followed by the somber fleet of the Ironblood, with Victorious releasing a sigh that carried the weight of the sea.

"If death is to be my fate on this journey, let it be by the hands of Tirpitz" Murmured Victorious, with a voice that barely disturbed the silence, as she gathered her belongings to join the other Kansens.

The shipgirls' quarters were modest chambers, so narrow that they housed only a bed, a drawer, and a sliver of space for the freedom of a body to rise and depart.

"Well, many souls long for that end... But look on the auspicious side, if we can send Tirpitz to the abyss, perhaps the gods of war will grace us with more generous portions" Joked Howe, with a smile that illuminated the dimness, beside Victorious, who responded with a laugh that dispelled the shadows for a moment.

Thus, they treaded the path to their quarters, armed with courage to pursue the legendary and forgotten Northern Solitary Queen, whose name was rarely whispered and who before stood as the last German bastion after the fall of Scharnhorst. A creature that would soon reveal to the world that the greatest mistake was to let her slumber in the forgotten pages of naval history and humanity.

Chapter Text

Somewhere in the vast Atlantic...

Tirpitz's Point of View

"What seas do these ships sail most frequently?" Tirpitz wondered to herself, her murmur barely audible. With her binoculars, she scanned the maritime horizon as her vessel cut through the waves at cruising speed, in a relentless search.

She was looking for merchant ships that could help rebuild the base. She imagined that Mia, with her expertise in discovering resources, would take on such a task. However, reality unfolded differently. Mia chose to stay at the base, offering her assistance to Eliza in repairing whatever they could in the laboratory they were exploring.

Flashback

In the underground laboratory

Descending the stairs, Mia and Eliza led Tirpitz through the labyrinth of corridors to the hidden laboratory deep within the earth. As they walked, they revealed that they knew little about the mysteries the other rooms held. The laboratory had been revealed to them upon finding an old map, its faded and torn lines hinting at an underground part of the base previously unknown.

As they descended, the first thing that caught their eyes was a corridor whose once white walls now displayed the patina of time, with unlit and shattered light fixtures, witnesses to years of abandonment.

The neglect was such that audacious roots sprouted from the cracks in the walls, and shards of glass from the lamps lay scattered on the floor like crystals from a fallen chandelier.

"This laboratory... It doesn't inspire confidence to enter..." Commented Tirpitz, her eyes sweeping the dark corridor in search of something noteworthy. What she found was just the emblem of the Kriegsmarine, with the eagle facing right and the swastika clutched in its talons.

"I agree with you" Replied Mia, her voice devoid of emotion, "but for now, it's better to wait and choose our next words cautiously in light of other surprises." Her eyes then fixed on some switches to the left, waiting for a touch that might never come.

Eliza, with youthful impetuosity, advanced to the switches, defying Mia's warnings. Her attempt to light the environment was fruitless, but the darkness did not rob her of her humor; a laugh escaped her lips as she returned to join Tirpitz and Mia, who merely sighed at their blue-haired companion's innocent stubbornness.

"I'm grateful to the heavens for having dedicated myself to night exercises..." Murmured Tirpitz, whose eyes had already adapted to the dark shroud that enveloped them. "Ordinary people would certainly get lost in this darkness." The darkness, however, was a veil that clouded her vision, preventing her from deciphering the secrets inscribed on the doors they encountered along the way.

These exercises were almost a rite for her and her crew, a necessity imposed by the frequent threats of nighttime air raids on her ship. Vigilance was constant, keeping more than half the crew on alert, eyes fixed on the starry sky. Fortunately, the northern skies of Norway were sparing in their attacks, granting them a reluctant peace.

Venturing deeper into the unknown, the trio faced doors that proved impassable, sealed by keys they did not possess or codes they did not know. Sturdy metal doors and thick steel piqued Tirpitz's curiosity, making her wonder what mysteries lay hidden behind such fortifications.

"This laboratory hides more than the maps suggest... Fascinating..." Tirpitz could not help the intuition that surfaced in her mind, a sense that something unexpected lay beyond those barriers.

They continued their journey, traversing even darker corridors while others were revealed to be faintly bathed in a flickering light. Mia's patience, however, reached its limit during that walk, sealing her frustration with a gesture of exasperation.

"At this rate, we'll never discover anything useful! Let's break down one of these doors and see what's inside!" Her voice, though tinged with irritation, carried the weight of prolonged expectation. Without hesitation, her steps led her to the first barrier that stood in their way.

The door before them was a silent testament to time, adorned with a steel plaque that read “Eindämmungsbereich Nummer 3” engraved in austere characters. The additional locks, meant to offer illusory security, were nothing more than an invitation to challenge in Tirpitz's eyes, who perceived the vulnerability hidden beneath the patina of rust.

"Trust me, I am the most capable for such a task" Tirpitz declared, with a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of her solitary soul, as she approached the metal sentinel.

Mia and Eliza, understanding the need for caution, stepped back, allowing Tirpitz to take the lead. With firm hands protected by elegant white gloves, the albino tested the door's resistance with calculated pushes. The metal responded with a promising creak; a concentrated effort would suffice, and the passage would yield, revealing the secrets hidden behind the door.

Gathering her strength, Tirpitz stepped back to gain momentum, and with a measured run, launched herself against the door. The crash of her impact against the metal reverberated through the environment, announcing the door's fall with a noise that echoed down the corridors.

As they entered the newly unveiled room, Mia and Eliza couldn't contain the amazement that widened their eyes, while Tirpitz, with a more serene expression, controlled the surprise that surfaced within her. The familiarity of the inscriptions on the door gave her an advantage in recognizing the scene unfolding before them.

It was a vast hall, adorned with metallic paneling and a myriad of pipes intertwined like veins of an unknown organism. But the true focus of the trio's attention was the set of capsules that stood majestically in the center of the room.

Five imposing receptacles, filled with a bright blue liquid of enigmatic consistency, captured their gaze. Inside them, young maidens rested in what seemed like eternal slumber, dressed in simple white linen. Intricate cables and connections linked to the capsules, suggesting an interplay of life and science.

The inscriptions on the plaques of each capsule, written with elegance and simplicity, invited understanding. Tirpitz, however, remained silent, absorbed by the familiarity of what she saw, though the strangeness persisted. The association with the Kriegsmarine only wove the veil of questions more densely around them, an enigma whose answers seemed increasingly distant.

With her curiosity piqued by the discoveries, Tirpitz murmured to herself, questioning the presence of those capsules in such a forgotten place. Approaching the nearest one, the inscription "Leitende Wissenschaftlerin ‘Leonie’ Wolff" raised her eyebrows—a chief scientist lay before her, trapped in the induced sleep of the capsule.

Eliza, with a mix of admiration and perplexity, approached, sharing the astonishment. “What were they trying to do here?” She asked, while Mia, with an analytical look, scanned the room bathed in the blue glow of the capsules.

“If you don't know, imagine me…” Mia interjected, pointing to a table cluttered with papers and ancient artifacts. “But maybe we can find some answers there.”

With measured steps, the three approached the table. Tirpitz, with the delicacy of someone unwrapping an ancient scroll, took one of the documents in her hands. The words recorded there, now under her scrutiny, promised to unveil the veil covering the mysteries of that room.

End of Flashback

The discovery of the files brought to light revelations that stirred the minds of the explorers. Mia, with a visionary look, conjectured that the laboratory could be awakened from its lethargy if its vital mechanisms were restored. The research preserved there could then be employed to their benefit.

However, the task would not be trivial. The list of needs was extensive, ranging from doors to power systems, including lamps and cables—and that represented only half the challenge.

Mia ended up handing her a map marked with coordinates she deemed precise—cargo ships sailing with essential military supplies for revitalizing the laboratory, and perhaps, for other areas of the base if there were excesses.

Tirpitz, though confronted with her own apprehension, could not ignore the knowledge she possessed about the Kriegsmarine's incursions and battles in the Atlantic. The monotony of those operations, often overshadowed by the efficiency of the U-boats and the Luftwaffe for quite some time, contrasted with the vibrant stories the ocean held in its depths.

"Hmmm... Sie wollen sicher keine Risiken eingehen, selbst bei ruhiger See (Hmmm... They certainly don't want to take risks, even in calm seas)" Tirpitz reflected, as she scanned the maritime horizon from the observation platform of her ship.

The ocean was calm, making the task of identifying potential targets easier. However, the same tranquility of the waters could make her visible to enemy eyes. At that moment, her binoculars captured the silhouette of her imminent prey.

A cargo ship, imposing in its magnitude, emerged in her field of vision. Mia's words echoed in her memory, reminding her of the grandeur of these ships and the promise of supplies that could be the key to reactivating the laboratory.

Watching the ship from a distance, Tirpitz pondered the inherent advantages of these sea giants—their cargo capacity was undoubtedly remarkable. However, thoughts of the disadvantages also sailed through her mind: the high construction cost and the latent vulnerability in times of conflict, exacerbated by the lack of adequate armor.

The wisdom of the sea, a lesson learned in times of war, whispered to Tirpitz the necessity of escorting merchant ships. The stories told by Mia about a war against unusual adversaries might be met with skepticism, but prudence on the ocean was never excessive. The Royal Navy, with its memories etched in the waves, had taught everyone the price of vulnerability at the beginning of the war.

"Da müssen eine Menge nützlicher Dinge drin sein… (There must be a lot of useful things inside…)" Thought Tirpitz, as the lone merchant ship danced in her vision. With a smooth motion, she lowered her binoculars and, like a silent predator, increased her ship's speed, approaching the unprotected prey.

The strategy was clear: a stealthy attack, without fuss. If fortune smiled on her during this first assault, others would follow, but no more than three—their discretion was her most faithful ally at the moment.

Narrator's Point of View

A discreet smile bloomed on Tirpitz's lips as she maneuvered her ship towards the sea giant. The cannons, ready for combat, might remain silent, preserving the valuable resources aboard the target.

And then, at 24 knots, a mysterious mist began to weave its veil around Tirpitz's ship, cloaking it in a ghostly shroud. It was a skill she had discovered during her solitary journeys in the Atlantic, a secret that now enveloped her in shadows and whispers of fog.

[Skill: Der Nebel der einsamen Königin

Tirpitz spent a lot of time in northern Norway and only took part in a single offensive role in 'Operation Zitronella'. To try to avoid allied attacks, the Germans used an artificial fog to confuse the allies and make Tirpitz go unnoticed, a fog that ended up harming the environment where she was and still causes some damage today.

This skill creates a fog for moments when she does not want to be seen, increasing her speed by 25% and improving her vision by 15%, these points also apply to her allies.

This fog negatively affects her enemies who enter it, reducing their maneuverability, speed, and vision by 35% and affecting the ship's electronics, especially radars and electrical sensors.]

With a plan already mapped out in her mind, Tirpitz positioned the 'Anton' cannon with lethal precision. Her objective was clear: to hit the command tower of the cargo ship, silencing any attempt at communication and, hopefully, neutralizing key figures on board.

The subsequent step would be to tow the vessel to the newly established operations base. For this, she would rely on the assistance of secondary cannons and anti-aircraft weapons, ready to suppress any signs of revolt or resistance that might arise after the capture.

While Tirpitz executed her plan with mastery, inside the merchant ship, the crew faced a distorted reality. The unexpected fog that emerged from nowhere was just the prelude to a series of unusual events. The ship's speed drastically reduced, as if the surrounding waters conspired to halt it.

To heighten the chaos, the electronic systems began to fail, displaying erroneous information and reacting unpredictably. The sailors' personal devices and the ship's internal systems entered a state of increasing disorder, worsening with each passing second.

Certainly, resolution was approaching. Onboard, forty people, each with their role in the great opera of the ship, and a small team of selected individuals promised to unravel the imposing mystery, or at least that was what the other sailors hoped for.

Confusion reigned for thirteen long minutes until a new event shook the reality of everyone onboard, something for which even the wisest among the electronic team were unprepared.

An explosion, like the roar of a sea monster, reverberated through the bowels of the ship, emanating from starboard. Before they could even conceive the origin of the chaos, a second detonation erupted, this time from the ship's bowels, followed by a violent lurch.

"What is happening?"

"Is it the sirens!?"

For those in charge of the electronic machinery, the terror deepened, abandoning their duties to investigate the ship's bowels.

"SIRENS! IT'S THE SIRENS!!"

"THESE WATERS WERE NOT SAFE!?"

On the surface, the pandemonium intensified. Following the explosion, a deafening clamor preceded the wail of contorting and colliding metal, inciting panic as cries for help intertwined with those of companions trapped by the debris, and the containers, like tombstones, collapsed on them.

It was a scene of horror. The desperate clamor reverberated throughout the ship, freezing some with the chill of fear. Of the forty crew members, only twenty-seven souls emerged from the chaos that had befallen the freighter.

The waters, once deemed safe near the coastal fortresses of the Americas, now deceived them. Since 2019, the occupation troops had banished the sirens from the Americas, making an attack in such waters unthinkable. Ships were warned five to ten hours in advance of the presence of these spectral vessels.

No one wanted to encounter these enigmatic entities, which had emerged a decade ago and scourged the globe, leaving a legacy of death and subjugation. The crew, like all good men, feared becoming prey to these creatures.

Despite being gripped by panic and terror, the survivors advanced toward the epicenter of the first explosion, dodging debris and wayward containers.

Upon reaching the location, they were met by a dense and enigmatic fog that blurred all vision. Some resorted to zooming in with their cell phones in an attempt to pierce the nebulous veil, while in a poignant silence, many prayed that it wasn't the sirens emerging from the mist.

All attempts to unveil the fog's shroud were futile. Questions sprang from the sailors' trembling lips until an unfamiliar voice cut through the silence. It did not belong to a siren; it was a cold voice, almost devoid of humanity, articulated in immaculate English with a subtle and enigmatic accent, betraying no origin.

" Attention, all survivors: proceed immediately to the bow of the ship. Any disobedience to this order will be severely punished! " The feminine proclamation reverberated through the fog, and from the proximity of the sound, the sailors sensed that the source was frighteningly close to the freighter.

An oppressive silence followed the announcement, leaving only the whistle of the cutting wind and the sepulchral shroud of fog as sentinels of that moment, injecting a primordial fear into the twenty-seven souls on board, now hostages to the uncertainty of their fate.

Contrary to the impulse for rebellion and flight, the instinct for survival prevailed. With hesitant steps, they advanced toward the bow, overcoming chaotic container obstacles and the inanimate bodies of fallen comrades, a sight that induced nausea and vomiting even in the strongest.

As the crew reached the bow, their eyes witnessed, in an instant, the arrival of a robust and imposing bulwark, launched with precision toward the ship, firmly embedding itself in the bow. The deck trembled beneath their feet, as if the very heart of the sea pulsed there, while the ship's speed was abruptly reduced and the electronic instruments succumbed, becoming obsolete in the face of the fog that enveloped them.

"Ahh... Uhh... Are we... being towed?" The trembling and uncertain voice of a young sailor broke the imposed silence, as sepulchral as the fog's embrace.

"Yes... But by whom? The voice sounds like a kansen..." Another man added hesitantly, as their gazes fixed on the bulwark, now adorned with a naval tow hook.

A sea of doubts flooded the sailors' minds; none could comprehend what was unfolding or why a kansen would act in such a manner. The supposition that it was a kansen emerged like an island in the ocean of uncertainties, for such behavior had never been attributed to the sirens; thus, the possibility of a kansen being behind this maneuver became the second most plausible guess for all.

"Forgive the interruption, but I demand absolute silence." The feminine voice echoed, advancing towards the bow, compelling everyone to fix their gaze on the towing winch. A female silhouette slowly emerged, and her piercing blue eyes shone like beacons in the dim light.

The encounter with those blue eyes sent a shiver through each sailor, a chill that seemed to emanate from the very depths of the sea. They were abyssal eyes, devoid of emotion—without traces of anger, joy, or sorrow. It was as if they stood before the unfathomable ocean abyss, probing its unreachable end from a fragile deck.

The familiarity of the blue color was not enough to dispel the mystery; the expressionless gaze of that kansen sowed terror in their hearts, evoking the apathy of the elite siren's eyes. Yet, before them was a kansen, a guardian of humanity, not a predator from the depths.

"This will be your only warning: you will be taken to my base. Until then, remain silent or speak only in whispers." With these words, the enigmatic figure merged back into the mist, disappearing from the bewildered crew's sight.

Despite the implicit permission to converse, none of those present dared to utter even a whisper after the fading of those blue eyes that had hovered over the towing winch.

~•~

Hours had passed since the turmoil began, and the fog remained like a thick veil, obscuring the true form of the ship towing them. The sailors' vision was limited, and uncertainty reigned supreme.

The confusion seemed eternal, but like the receding tide, the fog began to dissipate, gradually revealing the outline of the ship that followed them.

As the mist cleared, the silhouette of the ship towing the cargo vessel became clearer, emerging from the shroud of mystery that had enveloped it since the attack.

The silhouette emerging from the mist was imposing, and for a brief moment, the sailors allowed themselves to believe the impossible—the Bismarck, the titan of the seas, seemed to have returned from the depths of Germany to lead them. But reality soon set in, dispelling the illusion as quickly as the fog dissipated.

"But what about Bismarck's sister? What happened to her?"

"Regrettably, the efforts to infuse life into the kansens faced a setback when it came to the Tirpitz. However, we will not cease our attempts to revive her!”

Such news was uttered as a brief murmur during a report from Azur Lane's high command, moons ago. The mention of Tirpitz stirred the waters of debate, like a stone thrown into a serene lake, causing waves that, though disturbing, soon returned to their former calm.

Who, after all, would dwell on the chronicle of a battleship whose fate was not marked by laureled deeds, especially when there is an armada of legendary ships whose legacies stand tall? New Jersey, Enterprise, Yorktown, Kaga, Akagi, Musashi, Shinano, Yamato, King George V, Prince of Wales, Hood, Queen Elizabeth, Warspite, Scharnhorst, Gneisenau, Admiral Hipper, Prinz Eugen, and even Bismarck itself. In the face of such a noble roster of vessels, Tirpitz would not stand out as the preeminent choice.

And even if the comparison were confined to a lower echelon, Tirpitz would be relegated to the last place. Bismarck, Prinz Eugen, Graf Spee, Graf Zeppelin, the legendary U-boats, and many others would precede her. Naturally, the spotlight would turn to Bismarck, the most famous of German ships. Yet, even among her peers, other ships would precede Tirpitz in renown.

The memory of the Tirpitz faded, and, consequently, few desired to behold her up close. Those who still harbored interest did so more for her title and her solitary history in the icy waters of northern Norway. Few recalled her as the last German warship to endure after the conflict, the final operational battleship of the Kriegsmarine, or as the last bastion of German naval power in foreign lands. Even fewer remembered her single offensive sortie, an occasion when her guns thundered, and her crew fought with fervor.

Although Tirpitz's feats did not match those of her sister in number, they still shone with their own brilliance, worthy of being inscribed in the annals of memory. However, such glory was not granted without struggle, especially when the elder sister, hailed as the "King of the Seven Seas," constantly overshadowed her with her magnificence.

The elder sister's reputation swelled further when, on her inaugural and final voyage, she triggered a colossal pursuit by the Royal Navy, a feat that would be impressive on its own. In contrast, Tirpitz's accomplishments were viewed as modest, encapsulated in the harsh phrase: "Lived and died a cripple," a verdict of which she herself might never have been aware.

However, atop her command tower, Tirpitz could be seen in all her majesty, donning the immaculate KzS uniform of the Kriegsmarine, white as snow, complemented by a white cape with a scarlet lining, which conferred upon her an aura of elegance and authority.

The cape, an inseparable part of her attire, was not present merely as an ornament; beneath its mantle lay a Prussian-designed sword, opulently adorned, strapped to her belt. Strategically placed for supreme discretion, the sword was within Tirpitz's reach, and she unsheathed and sheathed it with aquatic dexterity and precision.

"We have reached our destination. Upon anchoring, we will disembark, but be warned: any attempt to escape will be severely punished!" She declared, in her second admonition to the sailors. With firm hands and a keen eye, she expertly guided the vessel to one of the empty docks, the cargo ship in tow following its course with the inertia of those without command.

As soon as the ship settled on the muddy pier and the merchant vessel quieted in the shadow of the battleship, Tirpitz ordered the sailors to be cast ashore, not without first binding them with robust ropes, nullifying any possibility of a reckless escape.

"Es scheint alles in Ordnung zu sein... Ich muss nur Eliza und Mia anrufen, damit sie mir bei dieser Aufgabe helfen… (It seems everything is in order... I just need to call Eliza and Mia to assist me in this task…)" Tirpitz whispered, letting out a muffled sigh. Expressing herself in her native tongue, spontaneously and detachedly, she revealed her German heritage to the sailors. It was then that she realized the challenge ahead might not be as simple as she had anticipated.

~•~

Under the command of the imposing Victorious, the task force embarked on the hunt for the elusive Tirpitz, but among the members, the dialogue was merely a facade, for no trace of the German battleship could be seen.

The term "conversation" was, indeed, a euphemism. What unfolded was a mosaic of segregation: the Ironblood Kansens conspired in hermetic cliques, and the Royal Navy's Kansens behaved no differently. The tension between the Germans and the British was palpable, a living testament to ancestral scars not yet healed. For those Kansens who once faced the battles of the Pacific, the call to this mission cast them into a whirlpool of mortal uncertainties on the other side of the ocean.

However, the quiet of these fragmented conversations was broken when Victorious, with her commanding voice, seized everyone's attention.

"Alert! Immediate course change! We have received news of a cargo ship that vanished in the mists of the South Atlantic!" Victorious proclaimed to the assembly, following the unexpected communication about the cargo ship that disappeared while sailing toward the Eagle Union.

For those unaware who heard such a proclamation, the immediate inference would be the nefarious actions of the sirens, infamous for sinking unguarded vessels like the evanescent cargo ship. The vulnerability of an unaccompanied merchant ship was, indeed, an open invitation for the abyssal predators.

Within the group, many suspected the sirens as the architects of that misfortune, but Victorious harbored her doubts. Until a week ago, Tirpitz's route had been public knowledge among the group, until, as if by magic, she vanished, leaving only traces of her presence in the South Atlantic.

Given such a supposition, Victorious and her task force could not decline the investigative mission. All signs pointed to the presence of Tirpitz in that vast aquatic expanse.

"Sometimes, I yearn for simplicity..." Sighed Victorious, aware that the search for Bismarck's sister would not resemble the chase of '41. With a delicate maneuver, she redirected the helm of her aircraft carrier to starboard.

"How did Frau Tirpitz manage to escape?" Scharnhorst pondered to herself, contemplating the enigma of Tirpitz's disappearance from Azur Lane. Keeping her speculations secret to avoid a summary judgment, she considered the possibility of allying with the mysterious fugitive. And she was not alone in this desire; a growing longing for freedom began to blossom in the hearts of the German Kansens, seeing that the possibility of escape was not impossible but merely slim.

~•~

In the heart of the vast naval airbase, the figure of Tirpitz stood, imposing and vigilant. The twenty-seven sailors from the captured merchant ship lay firmly bound, their mouths gagged to muffle any whisper of rebellion.

Mia and Eliza, diligent as ever, had dedicated themselves to collecting all vital supplies, taking advantage of the ship's large size and the diversity of resources in its compartments. The haul was vast, sufficient not only to meet immediate demands but also for future restorations.

Tirpitz, for her part, felt a legitimate pride in capturing such a ship, a feeling amplified after Mia confirmed the grandiosity of the feat.

While awaiting the return of Mia and Eliza, Tirpitz took on the task of guarding the newly shackled captives. During the interim, her eyes scanned the airbase, capturing every detail of the panorama surrounding her.

Mia had revealed grand intentions: if their plans succeeded, the prisoners would be subjected to trials in the large capsules filled with a mysterious blue liquid. The miraculous and anomalous virtues of this substance, alluded to only in nebulous military reports that withstood the erosion of time, would finally be put to the test.

"Wie hätte dieser Stützpunkt zu seinen besten Zeiten ausgesehen? (What would this base have been like at its operational peak?)" Tirpitz murmured, her eyes sweeping over the wreckage of aircraft, vehicles, and abandoned military artifacts scattered across the airbase, her hands resting casually in the pockets of her white overcoat.

It wasn't merely ruins; among them lay now-antique planes, consumed by rust, representing not a single lineage but a range of combat models, now scattered like leaves in the wind.

The landscape suggested a hasty retreat. Tirpitz reflected that, in an emergency, the aircraft would be the first to take off, yet there they were, abandoned. Some were missing, but the majority remained, including seaplanes once destined for aquatic maneuvers.

Faced with such a scene, a question nestled in Tirpitz's mind: how could they reclaim that lost glory? The lab's revelations provided clues, but urgency called for the reconstruction and reactivation of the lab itself. Another uncertainty emerged, but this, she chose to keep secret.

When the time came to penetrate the lab's depths, they would dedicate themselves to reviving the base's internal systems. With the resources seized from the captured merchant, it would become feasible to restore the directional systems, electrical fabric, and thus the mechanisms of the dry docks.

With the internal infrastructure of the naval base rebuilt, attention would shift to the other essential structures.

"Sie brauchen länger als erwartet… (They're taking longer than expected…)" Tirpitz murmured, casting a scrutinizing glance at the prisoners. She remained in this vigilant state, oscillating between the captives and the base's panorama, until familiar echoes split the silence.

"Hey! We’re here! Sorry for the delay!" Turning towards Eliza’s voice, Tirpitz saw Mia sneaking in behind, the prisoners alert to the sound of American English.

"Do you presume you obtained what we needed?" Tirpitz inquired, withdrawing her hands from the refuge of her overcoat pockets and crossing her arms with innate authority.

"Yes! In fact, we exceeded expectations... With the amount of resources we gathered, reactivating the lab will be a breeze, and we’ll have a substantial surplus of material to repair and upgrade all the base's internal systems" Reported Eliza, her enthusiasm manifesting in her animated gestures, while Tirpitz pondered the fate of the surplus materials, contemplating the incorporation of the cutting-edge technologies the cargo ship harbored.

"It’s comforting to hear that again. However, I suppose I must return to the sea for more supplies, correct?" Tirpitz queried, casting a probing glance towards Mia. The blue-skinned girl wore a jubilant smile, but Tirpitz anticipated the need to intercept more merchant ships in the inhospitable Atlantic waters before they fell under the aegis of armed escorts.

"Indeed, it would be prudent, should we need more than we currently possess" Mia agreed, offering a subtle smile. She leaned her head back, admiring Tirpitz’s commanding presence.

"As for the prisoners, there’s nothing to worry about. We will use the sailors to test the efficacy of the blue compound. If the results are positive, we will proceed with the experiments" Mia assured, sealing the fate of the twenty-seven imprisoned sailors, who saw no chance of escape.

~•~

In the heart of the South Atlantic base, within the commander's austere chamber, he was seen rubbing his temples, a clear sign of mounting unease. The news of a crucial cargo ship for Eagle Union disappearing near his jurisdiction was more than enough to cause such a state of mind.

His discontent was exacerbated by the fact that the missing cargo ship was one of the giants of the seas, originating from Dragon Empery, forged in collaboration with the Sakura Empire. It was indisputable that the leviathan was sailing towards the Active Support Naval Base in Orlando, Florida, with a scheduled stop at the Mayport Base for additional provisions.

The vanishing of a ship of such magnitude under "mysterious circumstances" was not just a logistical disruption, but an enigma touching upon American national security. To add to the turbulence, a recent message reported the escape of a kansen, who had fled the laboratory months before, now wandering with her complete naval arsenal.

"What did I do to deserve this..." Murmured the commander, his gaze still fixed on the documents scattered across his desk. The fugitive kansen was a concern, but what truly exasperated him was the fact that such a delicate task had been relegated to the commander of the North Atlantic Azur Lane.

He harbored a deep disdain for that man — the commander of the North Atlantic Azur Lane was seen as a debauchee and an incompetent, who barely understood the fundamentals of naval art. By a twist of fate bordering on the absurd, that man had risen to the position he now held.

The mere thought of such a figure in command constituted, for him, an affront to capability. The norms and guidelines of Azur Lane erected a fortress around the commander, barring any effort to remove him from his pedestal.

With resignation, he opted to immerse himself in his duties, awaiting directives from the supreme command. However, his attention was suddenly usurped by the hurried entrance of Ping Hai, whose trembling face and harried look revealed a fear that gripped her soul.

"S-sir... Ships from the North Atlantic are requesting your presence..." Ping Hai's voice was barely audible, betrayed by the fear gnawing at her being. In response, he merely nodded, a gesture of understanding before the tense situation unfolding for the poor Chinese Kansen.

Ping Hai disappeared down the corridor, the office door swinging in her wake. Through the opening, ten young women marched in, their rigid postures and uniforms reflecting military discipline, a blend of German and English.

"Excuse me, Commander, I apologize for the interruption" Said the lone figure who stepped forward from the formation of kansens. The woman, her blonde hair elegantly arranged and attire reflecting past triumphs, gave a respectful salute to the commander, who remained as still as a statue.

"We have come to report our suspicions about the fate of the missing cargo ship" Announced Victorious, her English accent pronounced as she kept her hands behind her back and her gaze fixed on the commander.

"We have reason to believe that it wasn't the sirens that sank the cargo ship, sir" She continued, while the commander, still seated, raised an eyebrow in surprise. Victorious stepped forward and placed a dossier on the desk with utmost care.

"Are you suggesting that the fugitive ship sank it?" Asked the commander, examining the dossier with attention to ensure he missed no detail.

"Yes, sir. From the wreckage, it's clear that it wasn't the work of a Siren. They would have been detected immediately, especially in the vicinity of the Latin countries" Explained Victorious, while the commander observed photographs of the cargo ship's remains—images of twisted and burned metal. Victorious seemed uncomfortable discussing the matter with this particular commander.

"It was undoubtedly the action of a kansen. We are convinced that Tirpitz, the escaped ship, is responsible for what happened" Affirmed Victorious, visibly uneasy. The commander paused from reading the dossier and looked at her, as if assessing the truth of her words.

What none of those present knew was that the fugitive German kansen had already returned to the Atlantic waters, ready to claim more victims and test her guns against a true warship. And the following morning, as if by magic, another large cargo ship disappeared in the Atlantic.

All those who had forgotten her and wronged her nation would feel her wrath— the wrath of the true empress of the oceans…

Chapter Text

Narrator's Point of View

Chaos. A simple yet powerful word, capable of describing events that transcend mere confusion or disorder. It was a term that perfectly captured the essence of situations on the brink of imminent disaster.

And this was, without a doubt, the exact word to summarize the events of the past few days. The entire high command of Azur Lane, well aware of the looming presence of Tirpitz, was caught off guard by what was unfolding. In just two days, three cargo ships had vanished into the depths of the Atlantic, leaving no trace, surrounded by enigmatic circumstances.

What shook the commanders the most was the disappearance of the last two ships on the same day, with only a few hours separating the unfortunate events.

The tension grew exponentially when it was confirmed that 92 sailors were on board the three missing vessels, taking the entire crew with them into the unknown abyss of the ocean.

Despite numerous attempts, the whereabouts of Tirpitz remained an unsolvable mystery. The information they received always arrived too late, and in the last two days, the imposing German ship had taken on the guise of a specter, moving stealthily through the vast Atlantic.

The signals picked up were scarce, even in their best scenarios. The most promising clue suggested that Tirpitz was primarily operating in the South Atlantic, as two cargo ships had disappeared in that region, compared to just one in the north.

The task force assigned to locate the feared battleship worked tirelessly on their mission across the Atlantic, but their efforts proved futile. Whenever they seemed to uncover the enemy's route, it would vanish like mist in the sun.

Given the situation, urgent measures were taken to prevent a disaster similar to the previous days. One of these measures was the order for all cargo ships to be accompanied by escorts. However, the true reason—the imminent threat of Tirpitz—remained concealed.

Revealing that a battleship of such magnitude had escaped its port and was wreaking havoc in the Atlantic could spark widespread panic. Therefore, the authorities of Azur Lane decided to cover up the truth from the beginning, blaming the losses on the treacherous Sirens.

~•~

Everything was proceeding as usual, but Tirpitz remained at her naval base, gazing at her majestic ship anchored in the dock. Sitting on a few crates, her expression maintained the same unshakable serenity: a calm and neutral beauty, while her head rested in her hands, which were gloved in an elegant pair of white gloves.

As she contemplated the ship, her mind wandered endlessly to the 52 sailors she had confined in the large capsules of the underground laboratory. Surely, they didn’t understand why they were there, nor the reasons that had brought them to that situation.

She knew they weren’t military, their attire made that abundantly clear. Her thoughts carried her back to the sailors and captain who shared their fate in 1944. Tirpitz knew intimately the sensation of drowning, of feeling water invade the lungs and slowly extinguish life, all thanks to her loyal sailors and captains.

Her mind incessantly hammered that particular question, always returning to the fateful day she sank into the icy Norwegian waters. It felt as if it had happened yesterday. Whenever she closed her eyes, she found herself back in that hell of deafening noises, sounds that would drive anyone unaccustomed to the war’s chaos to madness.

In that tragic moment, Tirpitz found herself suspended between life and death. She could see and feel the corpses of her crew scattered throughout the ship, even in the darkest corners. At the same time, she felt her weapons and tools being swallowed by the ocean on that day that still haunted her.

"HELP!! SOMEBODY GET ME OUT OF HERE!!"  

"PLEASE, I DON’T WANT TO DIE!! PLEASE, GET ME OUT OF HERE!!"  

"LET ME OUT OF HERE! I HAVE A WIFE AND DAUGHTER TO CARE FOR!!"

The desperate cries of her crew still echoed in her ears, like ghosts haunting her in the silence. It was as if demons and even angels wanted to remind her of what had happened, of the failure and the betrayal of the title she had promised to honor. A betrayal she was forced to swallow and accept.

What felt like years, or even an eternity, culminated in her hull being dismantled, even while submerged. The immense pain made her scream silently before she finally perished in the Norwegian waters, far from her German homeland.

Though no one thought of it, she was the only large Kriegsmarine vessel not to sink completely. She remained in the depths, living a silent hell as punishment for dishonoring her nation. The last "Wunderwaffe" of the Kriegsmarine, who fulfilled her role to the utmost until the very end.

"Ich frage mich, ob meine Kapitäne dem zustimmen würden... (I wonder if my captains would agree with this...)" Tirpitz pondered for a moment before letting out a sigh. Her blue eyes scanned the entire ship before fixing on the horizon, where the mist enveloped the naval base. Despite the fog, it was a sunny day.

She questioned what Mia and Eliza’s feelings would be if she asked them how they felt about treating the sailors in such a way. Certainly, the answer wouldn’t change, no matter how much she reflected on the possible variables.

Those two were strange beings, Tirpitz knew that, and she was sure the sailors shared that opinion when they saw them before being placed in the capsules, without remorse or pity. But, up until now, she, Tirpitz, had also acted without remorse. Was she also a monster, different from what she had been told years ago?

She quickly dispelled those thoughts. That was impossible. She wasn’t a monster like her sister had been called: "Monster of the Seas," "Steel Beast," and "King of the Seven Seas." Those titles belonged to her sister, not to her. Tirpitz had been titled "The Shield and Spear of Germany," "Empress of the Seas," "The Allies’ Nightmare," "The Führer’s Royalty," and "Supreme Flagship of the Kriegsmarine." These were the titles she had received, and surely she was something greater than a monster chained by greedy rulers, devoid of passion for defending their own nation.

She, Tirpitz, was the one holding those chains, destined to guide the navy to victory and protect her nation to the end. Her goal was to eliminate all who stood in her way to victory. Now, she had the chance to redeem herself for the betrayal she had been forced to commit and finally protect the nation as she had always been meant to do.

"Ich nehme an, das ist für mich unvermeidlich... Ich nehme an... (I suppose this is inevitable for me... I suppose...)" The water felt cold; in fact, it was definitely cold. After all, she was in the Atlantic, not the warmth of a beach or the calmness of a large lake or river. It was obvious the water would be freezing, not warm.

She had expected to encounter difficulties when sailing through the ocean again after escaping that mysterious laboratory. However, Tirpitz was surprised at how long it took for supply and fuel problems to arise. Perhaps it was because her ship was stocked as far as the eye could see: food, fuel, ammunition for her guns and anti-aircraft weapons, and even less essential supplies.

On the other hand, there was an advantage. The laboratory could finally be reactivated that day. Moreover, large parts of the base had been successfully restored, at least partially, since most of the work time had been dedicated to the underground laboratory.

At least it could become operational. However, it would take a few hours to be completed without issues. Some of the broken capsules would need to be rebuilt to accommodate more people, as well as using the ones still intact.

The day had also proven to be quite revealing, especially the two days prior and the few hours today. The most surprising discovery she made was that those slumbering scientists, appearing to be in their twenties, were actually scientists from the Third Reich. The men had been mysteriously transformed into women, resurrected, so to speak.

According to the explanations from those same scientists, it wasn’t exactly about bringing someone dead back to life in a new female body, but rather transferring their souls and beliefs into a female vessel, slightly altering them. This rule applied to both men and women, without exception, as they explained.

Of course, after that, Tirpitz discovered there were more girls in the adjacent rooms, asleep inside capsules filled with a strange blue liquid. She hadn’t expected to find so many rooms with these capsules, and was quite surprised to see there were about a hundred such rooms. It was clear that the Reich’s army wanted to create a kind of mass production of soldiers, bringing them back to life and returning them to the battlefield.

For Tirpitz, it was no surprise to see that, even when confined, those young women in the capsules quickly organized themselves into hierarchies. It was an obvious thought: if you were at the top of the hierarchy, you wouldn’t want to share the same space with people of lower ranks. To her, it was logical.

The women were distributed in numbered rooms from 1 to 5, each containing just over four capsules, unlike the others, which held around thirty-five tubes. This arrangement revealed to Tirpitz the Reich’s intention to revive, on a large scale, soldiers and key figures for the battlefield, as if they were mass-producing industrial goods using the discovered formula.

Perhaps the most impressive aspect was the gift these women seemed to possess: the ability not to age. Apparently, this was due to genetic mutations that prevented the aging of their tissues, keeping them in peak human physical condition. These mutations also prevented illnesses that could weaken soldiers, such as colds, vomiting, fatigue, and addictions like smoking and alcoholism, along with their respective diseases. A true scientific miracle, worthy of admiration.

Beyond the discovery of non-aging, another surprise for Tirpitz was the date of construction of the base. Its formal construction began in 1933, just two months after Hitler assumed the role of Chancellor. By 1934, the base was partially completed, and by the end of 1935, it was finished and testing began, establishing its function as a major German naval base and research laboratory in 1936.

Although she didn’t know exactly how a laboratory was built, she had a full understanding of what it meant to construct a naval base of that magnitude. Something like that couldn’t be done in less than two years; at minimum, it would take six years to complete two-thirds of a naval base that size. This indicated to Tirpitz that the investments to revitalize Germany, with a focus on the military, were not the only large investments made by the Reich and Hitler.

Thanks to the revived scientists and the few surviving documents, Tirpitz quickly learned that when the war broke out in 1939, advanced activities at the laboratory and the base as a whole began to falter, especially in 1944, when orders from Berlin and the OKW called for a full and hasty evacuation due to the supposed approach of the British and American navies.

This was how all the members of the base were evacuated, leaving behind the facilities and equipment, with only a few planes taking off in a hurry. Tirpitz doubted those planes ever made it back to Germany. She quickly understood another part of this story: during the rushed evacuation, the scientists didn’t have time to wake their comrades still asleep in the capsules, leaving them trapped in the strange blue liquid, unaware of what was happening around them.

In her hands, Tirpitz held a small, simple list detailing the number of girls present, divided by their respective functions. It wasn’t the most accurate inventory, but for what Tirpitz needed at that moment, it was invaluable:

- Scientists: 25

- Soldiers: 60

- Engineers: 100

- Officers and Generals: 32

- Military Designers: 18

- Marines: 40

- Girls in other functions: 400

A sigh of relief escaped Tirpitz's lips as she surveyed the situation. Of course, 678 people wouldn’t be enough to fully reactivate such a grand base, but if she redistributed each member, at least the docks and warehouses could start operating again, along with the rest and hospital areas of the base. Once that was done and the situation stabilized, with more girls being brought to the base, Tirpitz could focus on the remaining parts of the island and the base.

As the flagship of the Kriegsmarine and a military leader, she knew that the well-being of the soldiers and sailors had to be her priority. "A poorly rested soldier will never be efficient in their duties!" was a phrase one of her officers used to say, and she had adopted it in her mind since 1943.

It was indeed a highly advantageous situation for Tirpitz. Mia and Eliza had proven to be a true stroke of luck; Tirpitz doubted she could have stayed at sea much longer without their valuable assistance. Eventually, she would have had to surrender to some nation or submit to the whims of commanders and politicians who valued only numbers, with very few exceptions.

If such luck had graced her between the years of 1939 and 1944... No, even if she wished it, Tirpitz knew that such an occasion couldn’t have occurred at that time. Even though there was fate and chance, destinies were sealed by decisions made at critical moments, especially for warships like her. Tirpitz had learned, through experience, that one small situation or daily event was enough, and the rest would depend on her choices or those of others, leaving her only to pray that the decision made was the right one.

She was convinced that after the Bismarck sank, the entire upper echelon of the Kriegsmarine and the high command reverted to old plans. The Narvik disaster, as she had heard from her commander at the time, had resulted in the loss of half of the surface navy in a single campaign. She thought the navy would backtrack on its decisions and invest in destroyers, resume construction on the only aircraft carrier being built, and even convert one of the cruisers into an aircraft carrier.

But she knew such thoughts were nothing more than dreams. Thanks to her Ziviler SeefunkModell 11, affectionately nicknamed ZF 11 or Mary’s Mouth (after the daughter of one of the bridge officers), a secure news radio created by the navy to keep sailors informed of the news and music from their homeland, she learned that the Kriegsmarine would leave its ships anchored and that the Graf Zeppelin would be relocated to another port. Soon, word came from the high command that her ship would undergo significant upgrades, enhancing anti-aircraft and secondary armament, internal technology, and armor.

It was a remarkable overhaul, but Tirpitz wondered whether the money invested in it could have been allocated to other equally useful purposes.

Folding that small list, Tirpitz carefully tucked it into her coat pocket. The cold Atlantic breeze lashed her face, making her short white hair sway in the wind. Sighing deeply, she contemplated her ship and then the vast ocean before her, where fog hovered just a few meters away.

"Ich frage mich... Was hat der heutige Tag für mich auf Lager... (I wonder... What does today have in store for me...)" She murmured to herself, as her mind drifted through the events of yesterday and today. In truth, it had been an immense stroke of luck to find that third cargo ship during a patrol in the waters near the base. Thanks to the radar, she had managed to locate it.

The scarcity of ships at that base was a misfortune. Tirpitz was the only ship truly capable of defending the entire island and patrolling the surrounding waters, but that didn’t mean she could handle such a task alone. If the enemy appeared with more than five ships, they could spread around the island and conquer it. To prevent such a calamity, Tirpitz would have to rely on luck and the enemy's foolishness in accepting to play by her terms. Patrolling the nearby waters was relatively simple, but only in the front section, near the docks and the entire naval area. When it came time to circle the adjacent waters, the task became exceedingly difficult.

As she thought, Tirpitz considered the possibility of attracting more allies, preferably combat or support ships. Her mind led her back to memories from a few hours ago and to other recollections.

She remembered the moment when she detected the third cargo ship on the radar. The excitement of finding more supplies was mixed with the anxiety of being the only line of defense. The approach had been swift and effective, but the need for more ships was as clear as day. The base and its surroundings were far too vast for a single ship to patrol and defend properly.

The cold wind continued to blow, and Tirpitz turned her attention back to the foggy horizon, reflecting on the decisions she would need to make to ensure the safety of the base and the souls under her responsibility. "Will I be able to attract more allies?" she pondered. She knew that, to do so, she would need to demonstrate strength and leadership—qualities she had already shown, but which would need to be reinforced in the near future.

~•~

Flashback

Tirpitz’s gaze fell upon the captured prisoners. Her expression remained stern, without a trace of hesitation; her eyes emitted a cold and somber scrutiny, as if trying to probe the souls of those unfortunate ones. She observed them with the calculated calm of someone accustomed to pressure, until Eliza’s voice broke the silence in the gloomy room. With a slight tilt of her head, Tirpitz turned to the young woman with pale skin and curly hair, who approached with the poise of a courtesan, her movements graceful but infused with an almost cruel indifference.

Eliza's footsteps echoed softly on the stone floor, each step imbued with a calmness that seemed to challenge the tension of the moment. Her impeccable posture and distant gaze suggested an acquired coldness, perhaps the result of many trials faced over the years. Under different circumstances, she might have considered other approaches, but options were few, and fate, apparently, was sealed.

As she approached Tirpitz, Eliza maintained her composure, her green eyes fixed on the imposing figure of the German woman. Tirpitz cast her a brief glance before closing her eyes and letting out an almost imperceptible sigh, her thoughts deepening as she tried to unravel the complexity of the situation she found herself in. The prisoners were only part of a larger puzzle, and she knew that any hesitation could be fatal.

While Tirpitz immersed herself in thought, Eliza allowed herself a brief glance at the prisoners before calmly informing her superior that everything was going according to plan. “Finally...” Tirpitz murmured, her tone hiding a faint sense of relief. “I was beginning to think I’d have to watch them until nightfall.”

Straightening up, Tirpitz stepped away from the prisoners, giving Eliza a slight nod, indicating that the situation was under control. Her mind, ever sharp and strategic, was already planning the next step, aware that the shadowy war they were engaged in required constant vigilance. The day still promised many challenges, and she had to be ready for all of them.

Eliza gave a faint smile at Tirpitz’s comment, but her expression quickly returned to its usual seriousness, her thoughts distant. Though her eyes revealed nothing concrete, Tirpitz sensed that Eliza’s concerns were focused on something beyond the prisoners present.

Some time later, Mia arrived hastily, her attire slightly disheveled from running through the corridors. She explained her delay by mentioning the discovery of more capsules in other rooms of the vast laboratory. She explained that these capsules could be of great use, although she regretted that not all of them were filled with the strange blue liquid. The impressive number of capsules, even in a partially deactivated laboratory, seemed to indicate that something larger was on the horizon.

With the situation seemingly resolved, Tirpitz clasped her hands behind her back and delegated to Eliza the responsibility of guarding the captured sailors. Casting one last disinterested glance at the prisoners, she shrugged and walked away, her mind already focused on what lay ahead. There was no longer any reason to worry about that matter, especially with other challenges looming on the horizon.

As she walked through the cold, silent corridors of the base, a troubling question began to form in her mind: how much longer could they remain hidden in this place? To Tirpitz, it was only a matter of time before someone started to suspect and came after them. She knew that the base, despite its remote location, was not invulnerable and that the presence of so many prisoners and capsules could eventually attract unwanted attention.

With a slight shake of her head, she decided to push those thoughts aside for now and focus on the present. The day was far from over, and there was still much to be done. As for the laboratory, she knew the outcome would take time to unfold, and patience would be essential in facing whatever was to come. After all, amid the uncertainty and constant risk, Tirpitz was determined to ensure that her mission was accomplished, no matter the cost.

~•~

Tirpitz watched closely as the last sailor was sealed inside the capsule. The prisoner’s resistance, however fierce, yielded like the others before. The muffled sound of a "splash" echoed through the chamber, followed by the hermetic sealing of the capsule, where the blue liquid began to take its relentless effect, swiftly subduing the unfortunate soul into a forced slumber, almost as if life itself were being drained from their eyes.

Leaving the oppressive room, Tirpitz mentally prepared herself for the next phase. The laboratory, though only partially reactivated, was the key to the intricate plans she was beginning to lay out for that isolated base. Every step needed to be meticulously calculated, like a chess game where victory was the only option.

Eliza and Mia, both in their usual positions, followed their leader in solemn silence. Each was immersed in their own thoughts but always ready to respond to any command from their superior. Tirpitz, despite her cold and impenetrable façade, knew that time was a decisive factor. There was no need for reckless haste, but the urgency to reactivate the laboratory’s full potential was becoming increasingly evident.

Eliza, like a shadow, silently moved toward the point where the energy awaited activation, ready to fulfill her task without hesitation, as if a loyal servant carrying out a sacred duty. With a slight nod, Tirpitz expressed her approval, knowing that restoring the laboratory’s full functionality would not be achieved by merely pressing a few buttons. Patience and strategy would be her greatest allies, as they always had been.

With that, Tirpitz allowed herself a brief moment of introspection. Her gaze, once fixed on every detail around her, now wandered toward the horizon, while her hands clasped behind her back, a gesture that signaled her shift into a state of contemplation. The vast possibilities and numerous challenges that the base represented paraded through her sharp, calculating mind, and she was determined to prepare meticulously for what lay ahead. Uncertainty hung like a shadow over her thoughts, but Tirpitz, with her innate cunning, knew she was ready to face any adversity, trusting in her ability to turn every obstacle into a stepping stone toward success.

~•~

While humming softly, Tirpitz allowed herself to admire with remarkable attention the meticulous design of the room she was in. The reconstruction carried out by Eliza and Mia proved to be a truly impressive work. Even amidst the chaos and desolation of that place, both had managed to breathe life into something that could have been relegated to oblivion, like a relic of the past. If they had lived during the Third Reich, their skills would undoubtedly have made them renowned, but their peculiarities—such as the unusual bluish skin and other characteristics—would certainly have been viewed with suspicion in that ruthless era.

The soft bluish lighting of the room emanated from a strange liquid contained in several capsules, casting blue-toned shadows across the environment. It was an utterly fascinating, almost hypnotic sight. Tirpitz found herself wishing she had a camera or the talent for painting to immortalize that moment in a work of art. However, as was often the case, she knew that life rarely bent to one’s desires, a philosophy she had adopted over the years amid the stormy sea and her harsh duties.

"Beeindruckend..." She murmured, while her fingers lightly tapped on one of the capsules. Inside it, a young woman rested peacefully—or more precisely, a former German scientist, now reborn in the form of a woman. The plaque affixed to the capsule bore the name: “Liliana ‘Stephan’ Eichelbaum-Schönberger.” The care with which these names had been engraved suggested that the scientists had been resurrected with a specific purpose, preserving their identities even after the transformation.

Mia, always pragmatic, interrupted Tirpitz’s reverie. “Hmm… In a few moments, Eliza will activate the generators.” Mia was handling some documents, though Tirpitz still had no clarity about the origin of those papers.

With the rumble that echoed through the laboratory, Tirpitz realized the moment was approaching. But there was something else she knew—that she should inspect the power generators, ensuring there would be no unpleasant surprises capable of compromising her future plans.

Tirpitz let a faint smile cross her lips at Mia’s comment, while the deep sound of the generators being activated filled the air with a nearly palpable vibration. The lights began to switch on one by one, casting an artificial glow over the room that sharply contrasted with the faint bluish glow emanating from the liquid in the capsules.

"Yes, I’ll definitely need to inspect those generators at some point" Tirpitz murmured to herself, skillfully avoiding a few scattered cables on the floor, while her eyes scanned the room under the new lighting. It was an imposing space, with the capsules aligned like sentinels, ready to be activated, reinforcing the sense that something monumental was about to occur.

She decided it would be wise to assist Mia, even if only as a discreet helper, since she hadn’t been directly involved in the laboratory’s reconstruction. Mia, with her characteristic efficiency, began the procedure to awaken the slumbering young women. Tirpitz watched closely, careful not to interfere with Mia’s delicate movements.

Suddenly, a piercing sound reverberated through the space as the door was flung open, instantly drawing the attention of both Tirpitz and Mia. Eliza entered the room with a resolute expression, as if no obstacle could divert her from her mission. She walked straight towards the two, ready to contribute to the process of reviving the girls.

Recognizing her lack of experience with the complex technology involved, Tirpitz chose to step back a few paces. She observed the two women with heightened attention, studying every movement carefully. It was fascinating to see how Mia and Eliza operated in perfect sync, their actions flowing with the speed and precision of a finely tuned clock. Though Tirpitz was a natural leader on the battlefield, she understood that here, her role was different—to observe, learn, and perhaps reflect on the significance of this new beginning for all of them.

As the young women in the capsules began to stir, Tirpitz couldn’t suppress the thoughts that flooded her mind: what challenges awaited them? Could this venture be the key to ensuring their survival and success in the future?

As her eyes wandered across the capsules, Tirpitz couldn’t shake the questions that kept arising in her mind. How had Germany, ravaged by the devastation of the previous war and constrained by international treaties, gained access to this enigmatic substance? And even more intriguing, how had they managed to keep it secret for so long? This hidden base, isolated from the world’s view, was a relic of a mysterious past, but what made it even more fascinating was the advanced technology at its core.

The cables connected to the capsules caught her attention, emitting a peculiar light: a faint blue that unsettlingly contrasted with a deep crimson red. Tirpitz, her eyes sharp, tried to discern what was happening. The liquid inside the capsules, which had previously held a deep blue hue, began to shift in color, mirroring the pattern of the cables. The pale blue didn’t blend with the vivid red, but coexisted in a visual dance that bordered on the hypnotic.

Despite the strangeness of the scene, the women in the capsules began to show signs of life. It was as if they were waking from a deep sleep, their movements as gentle as those of someone slowly emerging from a peaceful dream. Tirpitz nearly laughed at the irony of the image—these women seemed to be waking in their beds, not submerged in a strange liquid, confined in technological capsules.

“Wow… How do you think they did this?” Mia murmured, intrigued, as she moved closer to get a better look. Before she could approach too far, Eliza stopped her with an impatient gesture, letting out an annoyed sigh. Without hesitation, Eliza took the lead, ready to release the young women from the capsules.

The first to awaken was in the penultimate capsule on the left. As indicated by the plaque, her name was "Leonie Wolff," the chief scientist. Tirpitz's curiosity grew with each passing moment. The awakening process was almost surreal—there were no signs of suffocation or any visible discomfort. It was as if the enigmatic liquid possessed properties beyond ordinary understanding, allowing these women to be preserved and revived without suffering any apparent harm.

As Eliza prepared to open the capsule, Tirpitz couldn’t help but ponder what these women would bring with them upon waking. Forgotten knowledge from the Reich, crucial memories from that recent past, or perhaps the answers to the questions that so troubled her mind.

"Explaining all of this is going to take quite a while..." Tirpitz murmured, leaning back in one of the chairs placed around the room, next to several tables. She chose to observe from a distance as Mia and Eliza rescued the young women from the capsules.

One by one, the women were removed. Curiously, their clothes were dry, as if they hadn’t just emerged from capsules filled with a mysterious liquid. Tirpitz noticed that although they were awake, the women showed signs of deep exhaustion, as if their energy had been completely drained. Once again, nothing seemed to go as expected, Tirpitz mused, reflecting on the possible complications that might still arise.

"Ugh... Ich fühle mich, als hätte ich gerade den besten Schlaf meines Lebens gehabt... (Ugh... I feel like I just had the best sleep of my life...)" Murmured one of the scientists, yawning as she struggled to stand, her movements still sluggish and hesitant. To them, it seemed to have been nothing more than a deep sleep, devoid of the gravity of what had truly happened—as if they hadn’t, in fact, died and been brought back to life.

"Für eine lange Zeit, um genau zu sein... Wenn meine Schätzung richtig ist, irgendwo um die 60 oder 70 Jahre... (For a long time, actually... If my estimation is correct, somewhere around 60 or 70 years...)" Tirpitz’s voice echoed through the space, drawing everyone’s attention to her, revealing a disquieting truth. Where were the other scientists? And the soldiers who should have been on guard? Even more disturbing: who were these three lone people in the room?

The atmosphere was thick with palpable tension, a mixture of confusion and anticipation. The return of the young scientists seemed to raise more questions than answers. Tirpitz, still seated, silently contemplated the meaning of it all, letting out only a low sigh at the weight of it.

~•~

*clocp-clocp*

Walking through those corridors bathed in a bluish hue brought a suffocating sense of apprehension. The prolonged echo of footsteps reverberated against the cold walls, causing discomfort among some of those present. Tirpitz, however, remained impassive, her stern expression and rigid posture standing in stark contrast to the unease permeating the environment.

As she conversed with the scientists, her presence was a symbol of control. Even in the face of the slight disturbance felt by others, she did not yield to the growing tension.

"Ich glaube, das war's erst einmal. Ich hoffe aufrichtig, dass es nicht zu unangenehm war, Sie so abrupt zu wecken (For now, I believe that’s all. I sincerely hope it wasn’t too much of an inconvenience waking you so abruptly)" Tirpitz remarked to the scientists, casting a quick glance at the clock hanging on the wall. Twelve minutes had passed since they had changed out of their ordinary attire, replaced by more appropriate clothing for the occasion: black pants, a blue blouse that stood out beneath their white lab coats, and similarly black shoes. A uniform of pragmatic simplicity, though Tirpitz quickly deduced it to be standard in this scientific environment.

Beside the scientist stood the Dock Princess and the Supply Depot Princess. The latter seemed to be the most alert, although she was completely unfamiliar with the German language that filled the discussions. Perhaps the weight of her responsibilities kept her so attentive—after all, the entire supply chain depended on her decisions, and it was her duty to be informed of every detail. To Tirpitz, this attitude was not only understandable but essential.

However, as the technical details were explained, a growing unease took root within Tirpitz, a feeling that, no matter how hard she tried to suppress, could not be ignored. If there had been a window nearby, her gaze would certainly have been fixed on the distant port. That discomfort had become an insidious presence, like a premonition that something imminent and unavoidable was approaching. She had an unshakable conviction that her presence here should not be prolonged beyond what was necessary—something of vital importance was about to happen, and she sensed that she needed to be elsewhere, ready for what was coming. Allowing such an event to unfold without her at the forefront was unthinkable, though the exact nature of this foreboding escaped her, like fog slipping away in the wind.

One of the greatest challenges facing Tirpitz was dealing with the enemies hiding in the vast, unfathomable stretches of the Atlantic. Beyond the complex operations of managing the naval base, the responsibility of overseeing the vast contingent of personnel rested on her shoulders. The need to form her own entourage, composed of trusted officers and generals, was becoming increasingly urgent—but the true obstacle lay in finding people whose loyalty and competence were beyond question.

What a complication… It was a burden that, in retrospect, she should have anticipated the moment she crossed the gates of the laboratory. However, now it seemed too late to escape the unexpected weight that had been placed on her. The complexity of the situation demanded unwavering rigor, a mind always alert and calculating.

‘An unforgivable oversight... I should have foreseen this need. I cannot allow such a failure to happen again’ She reflected, allowing herself a brief moment of distraction. Nevertheless, she knew her discipline well; her military nature would never tolerate repeated mistakes. She had a deep understanding of the inner workings of military doctrine, from the youngest sailors to the most seasoned admirals, and she was fully confident she would avoid future missteps.

With an almost automatic gesture, she adjusted the cap on her head, turning her attention back to the scientists, who continued to outline their technical explanations. Calmly, she resumed patiently translating the information for Mia, ensuring that her colleague understood every detail of the unfolding discussions.

~•~

The walk through the vast complex of the laboratory had proven fruitful. Now, as she felt the gentle breeze brushing her uniform and her hair swaying lightly with the wind, Tirpitz experienced a rare sense of tranquility. Despite it being a mere technical inspection, the moment brought an unexpected calm, in stark contrast to the tense and calculated environment in which she had been immersed.

Her eyes scanned the towering anti-aircraft defense turrets, equipped with machine guns that, although functional, still needed enhancements. Relying solely on the base's concealment was a risky gamble, a real throw of the dice. She knew all too well, from bitter experience, how treacherous it could be to depend on the element of surprise. From the early days of 1941 to her tragic sinking in 1944, the Kriegsmarine had learned hard lessons about the dangers of this strategy. In the end, luck and preparation could not be separated, and both were essential for survival in the unforgiving waters of the Atlantic.

"I must report these areas to Eliza" She pondered, mentally outlining the necessary modifications. "Once we have the resources, upgrading anti-air defenses must be a priority, followed by coastal defenses and radar improvements." A few meters away, she spotted the warehouses, where essential supplies for ground operations and materials for the shipyards were likely stored. With an almost automatic gesture, she pulled her left hand from the pocket of her coat and checked her watch. It had been quite some time since she had left the laboratory.

The scientists, no doubt, would be occupied for a considerable period, absorbed in their research, while inside the capsules, other girls remained in deep slumber, awaiting their moment of awakening, their "reincarnation." The notion that prisoners had been used to host the beliefs and memories of scientists, soldiers, and other German individuals, transferring their consciousness into artificially created female bodies, was a concept that, although difficult to grasp at first, was becoming increasingly clear over time—even if saying it out loud made it all seem like madness. Additionally, the investigations into the "kansens" were beginning to take shape, with Tirpitz being the initial focus of these studies.

The Supply Depot Princess had already departed, focused on her task of securing the base’s supplies. Meanwhile, the Dock Princess remained at her post in the docks, busy with repairs and refueling. Tirpitz knew well that these additions would be crucial to the full operation of the base, especially in the areas of maintenance and logistics. Before she could rely on new allies, it would be imperative to form a team of naval engineers. Relying on just one person to handle the entire process of resupply and repairs was a strategy doomed to fail in the medium and long term.

For a moment, she considered conducting another patrol. However, she was dissuaded by the Dock Princess, who reminded her of the urgent need to inspect and resupply her ship. It made sense. Tirpitz, in a brief oversight, had neglected the maintenance reports on her vessel—an unforgivable lapse for someone in her position. With the characteristic firmness that defined her, she promised herself that she would never make such a mistake again.

"Hmm… I guess I’ll have plenty of time to learn more about this base..." The German mused, her steps slow as she turned toward another section of the area she was exploring.

End of flashback

~•~

In one of the vast and unfathomable regions of the South Atlantic, a small fleet of ten ships had been navigating the waters for days, driven by a singular mission. The objective was clear: to hunt down and capture the fugitive ship, which had, after long slumber in the depths of an obscure laboratory, managed to escape its confinement.

On the deck of one of the vessels, firmly gripping the railing, stood a young woman of modest stature, gazing out at the distant horizon. She wore a military uniform that accentuated her figure, while her long black hair, streaked with vivid red and white, danced in the sea breeze. This was no ordinary girl—this was Deutschland, the "Pride of the Reichsmarine" and, for the time being, the "Flagship of the Kriegsmarine."

Lost in thought, Deutschland reflected with bitterness on recent events. The very notion of being "resurrected" to serve in such circumstances filled her with deep resentment. Had she known beforehand that fate would deal her such a cruel hand, she might have preferred eternal rest, consigning her ship to the merciless blades of the scrapyards, left to rust away as forgotten metal.

The treatment she and her comrades received was nothing short of disheartening. To say they were undervalued would be an understatement. Since being stationed at the North Atlantic base and being briefed on the current state of the world, Deutschland had felt the heavy weight of bitter disappointment.

A shadow of envy clouded her thoughts whenever she recalled Tirpitz. Through a clever twist of fate, Tirpitz had managed to avoid the chaotic grip of the so-called "world peace organization." Deutschland, with her melancholic clarity, knew that the younger sister of Bismarck was faring far better than many of the young women of Azur Lane she had come to know.

"It is absurd, perhaps madness, to even consider such a thought... Yet, in some way, I do not truly see myself bound to the Kriegsmarine. Who knows... maybe it would be possible..." Thus, deep in thought, Deutschland let her mind wander through ideas that any immediately discerning spirit would label as treason or, at the very least, unmistakable desertion. However, for her, the matter took on another perspective. She did not wish to betray her homeland; rather, her intention was subtler: she would simply withdraw—without it being said she was "deserting"—from the ranks of Azur Lane to join Bismarck's sister, Tirpitz.

She was fully convinced that the treatment she would receive under Tirpitz's protection would be incomparably superior to what she currently endured. The idea of transferring to Azur Lane's base in the South Atlantic had already crossed her mind, but certain "peculiarities" of that location made her shudder at the mere thought of approaching it.

What kept her tied to her current position was the uncertainty regarding the judgment her German compatriots would pass on her conduct. Although many speculations were whispered in her circles, the Eisenblut kansens were bound by nearly unbreakable ties, especially under the banner that Bismarck, their indomitable leader, had proudly proclaimed: "Disziplin ist unser Eisen, Ruhm ist unser Blut. Lang lebe Eisenblut!" ("Discipline is our iron, glory is our blood. Long live Eisenblut!").

However, what truly made her hesitate was the thought of her beloved little sister, Graf Spee. The latter, who had not been summoned for the current mission, was now resting at the Azur Lane base in the North Atlantic, far from Deutschland.

This detail, no matter how insignificant it might seem to others, deeply troubled her. It was a burden not to have enlisted Graf Spee for the mission, which she would have done without hesitation, considering the commander’s foolishness, whose actions reflected a certain stupidity that, were it not tragic, would be comical.

"Deutschland, is something bothering you?"

"Hm? Scharnhorst?"

As she turned, Deutschland saw her compatriot approaching with slow yet firm steps, as if each movement carried the weight of the journey. Scharnhorst joined her, and both fixed their gaze on the vast and unfathomable sea stretching out before them, perhaps seeking refuge from thoughts that tormented them, especially those related to the British kansens.

"Ah... not exactly. I’m just reflecting on a few things..." An almost imperceptible sigh escaped from Deutschland’s lips as her gaze turned to the two destroyers accompanying the fleet’s formation like faithful guardians: Z24 to starboard and Z26 to port, both members of the mighty Eisenblut nation.

"You know... I understand what’s bothering you. For I, too, have been pondering the same thing for three days now..." Deutschland couldn’t hide the slight surprise that took hold of her. She cast a quick glance at Scharnhorst, who, however, remained serenely contemplating the ocean, as if the revelation were of undeniable naturalness.

"Despite my hesitation, I must confess that I wish Gneisenau were here, by my side, in the Atlantic... But she remains in Europe, you know..." Scharnhorst’s gaze lifted toward the sky, blue and dotted with scattered clouds, while a melancholic expression formed on her face. Deutschland merely nodded in silence, not daring to speak. She fully understood what her friend felt, for the same longing gnawed at her soul: the absence of her sister by her side.

In recent times, many intricate issues had arisen, disturbing the spirits of the Eisenblut ships in that fleet. The idea of "leaving" Azur Lane, although it did not imply, in absolute terms, a desertion from the Kriegsmarine or the current Kaiserliche Deutsche Marine, was a thought that weighed heavily on them. Deutschland, Scharnhorst, Z24, and Z26 shared a common burden, a silent torment that had followed them ever since this possibility was set before them.

What haunted them most, however, was the prospect of leaving their sisters behind in the name of their own interests, without the dignity of a farewell. Severing ties with Azur Lane carried with it a harrowing guilt, an unbearable shadow over their consciences.

Yet destiny, in its unshakable course, has enigmatic ways of shaping the future. Neither they nor the British kansens could foresee the events that were soon to unfold. All those doubts, those decisions left unmade, were about to be put to the test.

Soon, their eyes would witness the wrath and fury of the forgotten empress, one who carried within her all the pain and rage of a vanished nation. And this same empress, marked by the stigma of a forced betrayal in 1944, would do everything in her power to ensure that the mistake would not be repeated.

~•~

With skill and precision, Tirpitz guided her ship to the docking berth as if the vast vessel were merely an extension of her body, obedient to every command. No sooner had she completed the maneuver than Ketlin von Núfran, one of the three veterans who had once served the Kaiserliche Marine as naval designers, came aboard, carrying with her a seriousness that indicated the urgency of her purpose.

The ensuing conversation proved not only productive but also revealing. Ketlin expressed a concern that had until then escaped Tirpitz’s meticulous mind: the competence—or, more precisely, the near total lack of it—among the new naval designers trained by the Kriegsmarine. The veteran bitterly recounted the decline of the naval design academies, which, since Germany's downfall in the First World War, had succumbed to a slow degradation. This academic and technical collapse, though always suspected by Tirpitz, turned out to be far more severe than she had ever imagined.

"Greetings, Großadmiral Tirpitz. I know it’s sudden to say this, but I fear that many of the new designers could pose significant problems for our navy, given the superficial knowledge they acquire, which is insufficient for the demands of our time."

"I understand your concern, Miss Núfran. But tell me, if I were to entrust you with resolving this issue, would you have a plan in mind?"

"Certainly, Großadmiral. My two fellow veterans and I are ready to tackle the root of the problem, offering the knowledge that these academies no longer provide."

That conversation revealed a new and alarming panorama before Tirpitz. The enigmas that once seemed unsolvable—such as the persistent operational failures of German destroyers in Atlantic waters or icy climates—began to make perfect sense. Even far from Norwegian waters or the Eastern battlefields, the problems persisted, and now Ketlin had illuminated the connection between these failures and the poor training of the new designers.

Thoughtful, Tirpitz turned her attention to her own ship, recalling recent mechanical failures below the waterline and the excessive weight of secondary guns that hindered critical maneuvers. And, if her memory served her well, she remembered that Scharnhorst, or perhaps her sister Gneisenau, had more than a thousand unnecessary electrical wires removed during a refit. Now, with this newfound knowledge, all these scattered elements fit into the larger problem that had once seemed like an unsolvable puzzle.

"Well, Miss Núfran, it seems it’s time for us to disembark."

"Understood, Großadmiral!"

As they prepared to leave the ship, Tirpitz paused briefly, gazing at the sunset that painted the sky in majestic shades of red and orange. The reflection of those vibrant colors on the calm waters gave the moment an almost ethereal atmosphere. The gentle murmur of the waves, sometimes crashing against the rocks, sometimes against the steel hull, was a subtle melody that filled the spirit with a rare calm. With her hands tucked into her coat pockets, Tirpitz turned, while Ketlin, calmly smoking a cigarette, followed closely behind.

The sea breeze blew pleasantly, hinting that the night would be perfect for resting with the windows open—something Tirpitz was already looking forward to with pleasure. The two walked side by side toward the place where their companions awaited them. And as their feet followed the path ahead, Tirpitz's mind was already working feverishly, outlining the next steps of her plan.

She knew the challenges ahead would be titanic. The Allies would not make the mistake of leaving their merchant ships without proper escort for much longer. More than ever, it would be imperative to conduct detailed field research to gain innovative ideas for future naval operations.

~•~

The sunset painted the horizon with an almost dreamlike magnificence, coloring the sky in shades of orange and red, while the fleet cut through the ocean at cruising speed. A serene silence reigned, disturbed only by the soft murmur of waves hitting the steel hulls. The quiet atmosphere seemed to mirror the boredom that had long settled over the kansens aboard.

It was a boredom reminiscent of those melancholic weekends when time seems to stretch endlessly, directionless, purposeless, merely waiting for the hours to dissolve. Not long ago, the fleet had made a brief stop in the Kingdom of Guayubirá—the former Uruguay—for refueling and minor repairs. But now, back in the vastness of the sea, the emptiness of routine extended indefinitely.

"Something needs to happen... I swear I wouldn’t complain, even if it lasted a whole day..." A deep sigh escaped Deutschland's lips as she leaned against the bow railing of her ship. The slowly setting sun bathed the sea in golden reflections that seemed to slip away with each passing minute, while her mind wandered, frustrated, in the fruitless search for Tirpitz, who had been missing for days.

Despite the apparent calm, Victorious and Howe kept the fleet on high alert, aware of the constant threat of a surprise attack. The continuous roar of Corsair and Fairey III fighters, taking off from Victorious and Glorious, filled the skies above the fleet, closely watching the ever-present danger of the Sirens.

Deutschland couldn't shake the discomfort she felt among the British vessels. It was an almost grotesque contrast to the still vivid memories of the war, when Germans and British clashed relentlessly, with hatred and determination. Now, seeing British planes patrolling and protecting Ironblood ships left her with a bitterness that was hard to swallow. The irony of the situation weighed heavily on her shoulders.

Even the British kansens, as professional as they were, could not completely hide their discomfort. The tension between the two fleets, though contained, was palpable, fluctuating between silent unease and barely veiled hostility. Even in times of alliance, the scars of war remained open, painful, and hard for both sides to ignore.

*VVVRRRRROOOOoooommmm...*

One of the British planes flew low over Deutschland during its patrol, but she barely paid it any attention. Her gaze, once lost on the horizon, slowly shifted as she moved away from the railing, heading toward the bridge. The peaceful vastness of the sky above only intensified her discomfort, as if the very serenity of the environment mocked the unease she felt inside.

As the minutes dragged on, her thoughts led her to a single, inevitable conclusion. As uncomfortable as that alliance was, there was an opportunity before her—a chance that might never come again. An uncertain but tempting path.

"Tell me, Tirpitz... Where are you now? What are you doing?" Deutschland murmured to herself as she walked. Her eyes turned to the two aircraft carriers ahead of her, imposing and majestic, unmistakable symbols of the pride of the old Royal Navy. It was impossible not to recall the Kriegsmarine's ambitions, its aspiration to rival that naval power in the 1940s. Yet now, those aspirations seemed as distant and unattainable as the setting sun itself.

~•~

To say that Tirpitz was busy would be a modest figure of speech, if not a complete understatement. Since assuming the position of Oberbefehlshaber of the base, her responsibilities had multiplied to such an extent that the mere matter of the uniform she no longer wore seemed, in her mind, trivial—almost irrelevant. The grandeur of the position, imposing in itself, transcended the visible details of her authority.

Behind her walked Katlin, dressed in much more informal attire, a sharp contrast to Tirpitz's ever-upright and martial posture. An involuntary curiosity arose in the Oberbefehlshaber’s mind—was this casualness in dress a characteristic trait of young naval designers, or the result of a lack of rigid uniformity? Perhaps it reflected the mental flexibility that the profession demanded.

However, such questions were fleeting distractions. What truly occupied Tirpitz's thoughts was the sea, vast, imposing, and full of secrets. The Atlantic seemed to call her with a silent urgency, an ancient whisper she could not ignore. She had already informed Eliza of her intentions, promising that as soon as the internal situation was under control, she would set off again. The ocean awaited, and her instincts told her that something of great importance, hidden in its depths or forgotten routes, called for her discovery.

Naturally, obstacles would arise in her path—they always do for those who dare to master the unpredictable. But Tirpitz was ready, as she always had been. With the map of the Atlantic spread before her, she had plotted routes, marking areas to avoid and highlighting the safest paths for her journey. Her spirit, refined by bitter experiences and past glories, had learned to expect the unexpected, for the Atlantic, like the European and Norwegian seas, immense and unforgiving, always reserved its surprises for the unwary.

Caution, that ancient military virtue, was her constant motto. Her officers and subordinates repeated it like a litany, and Tirpitz, aware of the power of prudence, had incorporated it almost as an absolute truth. There was no room for mistakes; a single misstep, and all the power she wielded could be eclipsed. The bitter memory of the past, when under others' command, imprudence had led to a fateful surprise, was etched in her mind. This time, however, there would be no repetition.

History would yet know why Tirpitz was called the "Oberstes Flaggschiff der Kriegsmarine," the true and only "Empress of the Seas." Her name, which once inspired respect and fear, would rise again like the storm that sweeps across the oceans. And her enemies, those who dared face her, would once again know the strength of her steel and the relentless weight of her determination.

Chapter Text

Narrator's Point of View

Under the leaden sky of the Atlantic, seagulls tore through the air above the brackish waters, their cries muffled by the impetuous wind that scattered them into the abyssal void. Meanwhile, the waves were cleaved by an imposing fleet, advancing in tight formation. They followed a meticulously charted course, though permeated by uncertainty, in search of Tirpitz—a specter adrift in the waters, whose whereabouts were reduced to conjectures transmitted by the South Atlantic Azur Lane High Command through cryptic and enigmatic radio messages.  

The brief stop at the South Atlantic Azur Lane base left an indescribable unease in the air, a nearly suffocating sensation that quickly spread. It was one of those rare moments when Britons and Germans, traditional adversaries, seemed to share the same opinion: the unanimous desire to escape that place as soon as possible.  

The only solace they found was the benefit of new intelligence on Tirpitz’s possible routes, "courteously" provided by the base commander, along with a thorough technical inspection of their ships. However, the atmosphere hanging over the base was dense, almost lugubrious. Victorious, a veteran of countless expeditions, could not hide her displeasure whenever she was forced to dock there. The kansens who inhabited those waters exuded a heavy, almost ominous aura.  

Their gazes were empty, akin to unburied corpses or dead fish. There was a palpable tension in the air, an insidious mixture of fear and restrained resentment. Victorious still shuddered at the memory of the deplorable condition of some of the vessels docked in that port. Many had not even received the most basic repairs. The case of Peter Strasser, for instance, was lamentable. Her elevators remained damaged from past attacks, her boilers threatened to collapse at any moment—severely compromised by Siren torpedoes—and her structure, both above and below the waterline, barely held together. It was a miracle that Strasser could still operate her air wing of forty-three fighters, plus two additional aircraft, without disaster befalling her.  

The USS Spence, a destroyer of the numerous Fletcher class, had lain abandoned in dry docks for nearly a year. The base commander excused the repair delays under the pretext of urgent priorities, but Victorious knew all too well that the real reason was sheer reluctance to allocate the necessary resources. The commander’s disdain for Spence’s fate was evident, as if the ship’s destruction failed to elicit even the slightest compassion.  

However, what enraged Victorious the most was the case of Hyuuga. The Japanese kansen had been relegated to dry docks for nearly two years, subjected to such precarious repairs that her full recovery was projected to take as long as six years. Upon learning of the situation, the authorities of the Sakura Empire issued a severe ultimatum to Azur Lane. Under intense diplomatic pressure, the Empire managed to repatriate four of the seven ships stationed at the South Atlantic base, and in just one year and four months, Hyuuga was fully restored, receiving substantial improvements. The restoration of the Japanese fleet not only significantly reinstated its full operational capacity but also greatly enhanced the reputation of its navy among its allies.  

Observing her four corsairs rise into the skies, Victorious let out a subtle sigh, laden with a mixture of unease and fatigue. Standing at the edge of the flight deck of her imposing aircraft carrier, her watchful eyes scanned the vast scene around her. To port, HMS Glorious was also busy launching a few reconnaissance aircraft, both ships engaged in the mission of sweeping the infinite expanse of the Atlantic. Casting her gaze toward the horizon, she spotted, in the distance, the panzerschiff Deutschland, sailing just behind the two allied vessels. The presence of the kansen associated with that ship was an almost intangible mystery; Victorious had seen her only on three occasions, rare moments when she had witnessed the panzerschiff maneuvering its guns, firing test shots in scattered directions, as if measuring the immensity with its might.

The rhythmic cadence of the waves, softly echoing against the hull, might have granted her a sense of serenity, were it not for the overwhelming tension that enveloped the fleet. No one, in truth, felt at ease in the presence of the others. There was an invisible chasm between the crew members, filled with ancestral grievances and unhealed scars from battles and tragedies. Each carried the weight of past rivalries and pains, and thus, this task force had become something far beyond a mere military coalition: it was an unstable composition, on the verge of collapsing under the weight of its own fragility. The tension, dense and palpable, seemed to seep into every part of the ship.

Victorious pondered, perplexed, why the commander had not bothered to conduct even a basic assessment of the fleet’s composition. The latent hostility among the crew members made communication failures inevitable. It was as clear as the sun rising over the ocean. Howe, for instance, showed a certain leniency toward the Germans, but Glorious still harbored bitter resentment toward the Scharnhorst sisters, who had once been her tormentors during operations off the Norwegian coast. Newcastle, though serene in appearance, could not conceal the discomfort that the presence of the Germans caused her, a reflection of the losses her sisters had suffered in the battles of the forties. Penelope, on the other hand, barely disguised her hostility, rooted in the trauma of her own sinking at the hands of the infamous U-boats. Even Glasgow, normally of a conciliatory temperament, was not spared the unease, sharing with Newcastle a feeling of distrust and repulsion.

On the German side, feelings were equally murky. Deutschland, in particular, harbored a silent fury against the Royal Navy, exacerbated by the tragic fate of her sister, the Admiral Graf Spee, scuttled in the treacherous waters of 1939. Victorious knew all too well that the emotional complexity of this fleet, so intrinsically tied to the grudges and wounds of the past, was on the brink of an imminent rupture. A single misstep, a spark of misunderstanding, and everything would collapse into a hurricane of violence and chaos.

What unsettled her deeply was the apparent indifference of the commander in the face of such a scenario. How did he remain in command of such a critical situation? Even the most mediocre of leaders would have hesitated to assemble a fleet so burdened with internal tensions. To Victorious, it was inconceivable that the Azur Lane High Command had allowed such an unprepared individual to lead such a delicate operation. ‘How did this civilian rise to this position?’ she wondered, knowing she would find no answer. It was a question that, at least for now, would remain in the unfathomable realm of the unknown.

— Vick? Don't you think you should rest? This has been making you very nervous lately.

The rhythmic sound of Howe’s boots echoing across the deck made Victorious momentarily avert her gaze. Her eyes fixed on the line of ships ahead, where HMS Penelope sailed, leading the two aircraft carriers. Though she couldn’t make out her companion’s expression, the shadow that Howe cast betrayed a veiled unease, as if she carried an invisible burden. It had been some time since Victorious had spoken a single word, and this silence was beginning to unsettle Howe, whose own suspicions about the state of the task force commander were already forming.  

— You have no reason to worry, Howe — Victorious murmured, without taking her eyes off the infinite horizon. — They're just... scattered thoughts.

— Are you referring to the entire task force, Vick? 

— Hm, yes. This fleet is, by its very nature, a powder keg. One misstep, and everything could collapse into chaos!  

— I can't dispute such an assessment — Howe admitted, her voice steady. — But don't let yourself be consumed by these uncertainties. I can handle things, at least for now. Among all of us, I'm the one who maintains the best relations with the Germans.

With a gentle gesture, Howe placed a hand on Victorious' shoulder, offering her a rare comfort amid the oppressive atmosphere. Victorious, after a brief sigh that betrayed the weariness of her soul, murmured a nearly inaudible thank-you, gratefully accepting the momentary relief. With measured slowness, she rose, deciding to leave the immediate duties in her companion's hands. She made her way to the crew quarters, feeling the weight of responsibility lighten, if only slightly.  

— May luck be with you, Howe — Victorious whispered as she walked away, her words dissolving into the wind blowing across the deck.  

For a brief moment, Howe remained alone, attentively observing the fleet. Her thoughts traced the intricate tensions of the mission, as if navigating the fragile threads of a web. The tension hanging over the squadron was evident, almost palpable, but she nurtured the hope that the worst could still be avoided. Taking a deep breath, Howe turned toward her own ship, which sailed ahead. The success of the operation depended, in part, on maintaining that tenuous stability, though she knew that fate did not always favor the careful.  

The only immediate problem, however, was the ominous atmosphere looming over the entire fleet, dense as an inescapable fog. Furrowing her brow, Howe let her eyes wander over the imposing guns of her ship. In her thoughts, confidences never spoken aloud began to form: she had never fired those guns at a naval target. As macabre as the thought was, a peculiar kind of anxiety took hold of her spirit. She was accustomed to bombarding land targets, but the prospect of an open-sea engagement stirred a strange anticipation within her, almost vertiginous.  

Without a word, Howe made her way to the Combat Information Center (CIC) of her vessel. There was still much to be done, and the fleet’s condition demanded constant vigilance. Victorious, always diligent, had given her copies of the maps and coordinates transmitted by the Azur Lane commander in the South Atlantic. If any misunderstanding or emergency were to arise, Howe considered herself fully capable of intervening and ensuring control of the situation. For now, Victorious deserved a rest after the exhausting start to this arduous operation.  

~•~

Wilhelmshaven, the most revered of the military ports in Eisenblut's history—formerly Germany—stood as an imposing bastion in the nation's collective memory. During the darkest days of the war against the fearsome Sirens, which peaked between 2014 and mid-2018, this port, along with Hamburg, Kiel, Gotenhafen, Bremerhaven, and Königsberg (formerly Kaliningrad), played a crucial role. Wilhelmshaven, however, stood out as one of the key vertices of the strategic triad, alongside Hamburg and Kiel, forming the vital core of Eisenblut's naval defense and production. The loss or severe destruction of any of these locations would have been an irreparable blow to the nation in those arduous years of conflict.  

Now, with the heart of Europe relatively "free" from the Sirens' devastating attacks, Wilhelmshaven was rising from the ashes, revitalizing itself, especially after the so-called "Great Reconquest." It had once again become Eisenblut’s primary naval bastion and the home of the legendary German kansens, housing most of the Deutsche Heimatflotte and the formidable Schlachtflotte. Kiel, Hamburg, and Königsberg still retained great strategic value, but Wilhelmshaven, renewed and strengthened, had established itself as the true epicenter of the nation's naval operations. However, a significant portion of the German fleet remained scattered across the globe, responding to the demands of the Azur Lane international coalition.  

Inside Wilhelmshaven’s naval headquarters, in a room on the third floor, hidden behind the modest fourth door of a long corridor, was the vice-admiral of the Kaiserliche Deutsche Marine, the imposing Admiral Bismarck. Tall and commanding, her long golden hair cascaded in perfect waves, framing a noble-featured face with piercing blue eyes. Her naval uniform, meticulously tailored, evoked the glory of the once-powerful Kriegsmarine, further enhancing the aura of grandeur and authority that defined her. Seated with calculated serenity in her leather chair, Bismarck held in her hands a file that fully absorbed her attention.  

The cover of the document, marked by the light yellowing of time, bore in relief the symbol of the German eagle, its wings spread in a gesture of sovereignty and power. Below the emblem, in large scarlet letters, was the word "GEHEIM!" (SECRET!), a warning that only deepened the mystery contained within its pages. Bismarck had received this document a week ago, and since then, she had been unable to distance herself from its revelations. The report, though concise and careful in its exposition of facts, contained astonishing information that even the seasoned admiral was still processing. As she reopened the file, handling its pages with delicate precision, her eyes fell upon the same photograph that had unsettled her before. It was an image laden with history and implications, drawing her thoughts back into the depths of long-buried memories.

[Top Secret File]

Ship Name: Tirpitz  

Ship Type: Battleship  

Description: The battleship Tirpitz has a standard displacement of 42,900 tons (42,200 long tons) and a maximum displacement of 52,600 tons (long tons) at full load. Its maximum speed is 30 knots; however, fragmented records and reports suggest that its engines were upgraded during later repairs. The main armament is identical to that of the battleship Bismarck, as is the secondary armament. Initially, its anti-aircraft battery consisted of sixteen 10.5 cm guns in eight twin mounts, sixteen 3.7 cm guns in eight twin mounts, and twelve 2 cm guns in single mounts. However, after the sinking of Bismarck, Tirpitz's anti-aircraft armament was significantly reinforced, with 78 Flak 30 2 cm guns in single and quadruple mounts, as well as the addition of 8 torpedo tubes of 53.3 cm.  

Crew: The ship has a capacity of 108 officers and 2,500 sailors.  

Personality: Known as the "Lonely Queen of the North," Tirpitz was responsible for temporarily forcing the Allies to suspend supply shipments to the Soviets.  

Significant Events: Although it did not directly participate in naval battles, Tirpitz was the target of multiple air raids coordinated by the RAF, demonstrating impressive resilience.  

Special Characteristics: Although there are no detailed official records, fragments of information suggest that Tirpitz underwent improvements beyond those documented. Its record of naval combat is practically nonexistent outside of training periods due to its strategic positioning in Norway.  

~•~  

Closing the file with a slow gesture, Bismarck could not help but feel a mixture of concern and fascination. The presence of her sister in the Atlantic was a fact known to Western commanders, but what intrigued her the most was the uncertainty surrounding Tirpitz’s exact route and whereabouts. Tirpitz, the so-called Lonely Queen of the North, had made her mark by sinking three cargo ships—a feat that would certainly have been proudly celebrated by the now-defunct high command of the Kriegsmarine. The impact of her recent actions could not be underestimated.  

For Bismarck, there was an ironic touch to it all: she and Tirpitz, sisters of steel, had never met, not even during training exercises, due to delays in the completion of Tirpitz’s construction.  

The seas that had separated them continued to raise invisible barriers. Bismarck, forged in the shipyards of Hamburg, and Tirpitz, born in Wilhelmshaven, followed paths that, until now, had not converged. Bismarck did not even know what Tirpitz looked like in kansen form, except for vague memories of the austere lines of her ship.  

“You’re stirring up quite the storm, Tirpitz…” Bismarck murmured, a tired smile crossing her lips. Letting the file rest on the table, she picked up the letter that accompanied it, sent by the Azur Lane High Command. The document, dry and direct, informed her that a fleet was already searching for Tirpitz, with orders to capture her. However, if she resisted, elimination would be the only option.  

How had Tirpitz managed to escape? The question lingered, relentless, in Bismarck’s mind. The laboratory where Tirpitz had awakened was supposed to be an impenetrable facility, equipped with state-of-the-art security systems. And yet, she had escaped, unscathed and without leaving a trace. Something deeply sinister was being concealed by Azur Lane.  

For a moment, Bismarck recalled her own awakening, surrounded by the inquisitive gazes of men in lab coats and armed soldiers. Attempts to flee had been ruthlessly crushed, leaving no doubt that resistance was futile.  

As she placed the file back in its rightful place, Bismarck faced the uncertain future ahead, fully aware that the reunion between her and her steel sister was now inevitable—and that the consequences of that moment would reverberate across the oceans.  

Bismarck sighed deeply, contemplating with bitterness the astonishing escape of Tirpitz. While all other kansens remained under the veil of sleep, her sister had managed to escape at a time when security should have been at its peak.  

Bismarck, deep down, recognized this failure. However, in an implausible turn of events, Tirpitz had vanished from her sight, and now, through the report and the letter in her hands, it was confirmed that she was indeed operating with boldness in the turbulent waters of the Atlantic, sowing chaos wherever she passed.  

The thought of how Scharnhorst would react upon discovering that Tirpitz was still alive lingered in Bismarck’s mind. Certainly, a colossal shock. Nevertheless, the search for her sister should not, in theory, be such an arduous task. The Azur Lane fortifications scattered across the Atlantic undoubtedly had the means to track Tirpitz’s movements with relative efficiency, particularly the South Atlantic base, which, equipped with a medium-sized airfield, possessed the capability to coordinate attacks and scour vast maritime expanses. However, the timidity of the commanders and the unchecked arrogance of higher-level decisions prolonged the impasse in a manner Bismarck deemed unacceptable.  

Technology, in turn, should have alleviated the burden of this search, especially through the use of satellites. But ever since the disastrous attack perpetrated by the Sirens in 2015—the infamous "Cyber Christmas"—the once-sophisticated orbital surveillance systems had been rendered useless. Only a handful of communication satellites remained, hastily launched to maintain the bare minimum of global connectivity. These new devices, while cheap and effective for ensuring essential communications, could do little to aid such a specific tracking endeavor.  

Even so, there was still hope in the few technological relics that remained. The only satellites with any practical use in the current situation were the HB-18X "Big David" and the WB-11A "Ottos Stern." The former, a joint creation of the Americans and the British, was a medium-range search satellite, while the latter, an exclusively German innovation, specialized in image capture and medium-range tracking. Although the WB-11A stood as proof of Germany’s technological prowess, its exorbitant cost—a staggering 15 billion dollars, even surpassing the 11 billion spent on the HB-18X—had nearly drained the coffers allocated to scientific and military development.  

Despite all these hardships, Bismarck had managed, without the knowledge of the ODH (Oberkommando des Deutschen Heeres), to use the WB-11A to capture three images of Tirpitz in the Atlantic waters. The first two were compromised by partial interference. The first revealed her sister sailing through the North Atlantic, while the second captured Tirpitz lying in wait for a cargo ship en route to the Eagle Union. But it was the third image that offered undeniable clarity: Tirpitz appeared, imposing, in the South Atlantic, towing one of the last two merchant ships that had fallen victim to her destructive onslaught.  

As she examined these images, Bismarck understood that the hunt for Tirpitz was far from reaching its conclusion. However, with such evidence in hand, a new stage was beginning, and the game would certainly change—if she chose to reveal them.  

"They have more than enough to carry out this mission…" Bismarck murmured under her breath, as if speaking to herself. "This situation, in some ways, reminds me of historical episodes I once read in books…”

As her fingers slowly traced her temples, seeking momentary relief from the mounting tension, her thoughts involuntarily drifted to the image of Tirpitz’s ship. It was an undeniable truth, no matter how much she tried to conceal it—she longed to reunite with her sister. There was so much left unsaid between them, so many words stifled by time, feelings repressed that cried out for redemption. Their reunion was inevitable, and they both knew there was much to discuss—perhaps even to confront.  

With a distant gaze fixed on the ceiling, Bismarck allowed herself to be enveloped by the near-sepulchral silence that reigned in the room. Slowly, she gathered the three photographs before her and, with a deliberate motion, stored them meticulously. She closed the drawer, its key resting under her sole dominion, and with the utmost care, locked it.  

She had decided: she would not turn in Tirpitz. She would remain silent, aware that her sister, in accomplishing such a daring feat, at least deserved, for now, this unspoken complicity. Bismarck would settle her internal matters, particularly within Eisenblut, before making any disclosures. Deep within, a silent prayer formed—a wish that Tirpitz would continue defying the odds with the same success she had achieved thus far.  

"I hope success follows you. Es lebe die Kriegsmarine, Tirpitz…” she whispered, with the firmness of one who understands the inexorable weight of her own words.  

With a calculated movement, she pulled a specific file from the drawer, letting her eyes linger for a brief moment on the printed title: "Operation Heimatsreinigung." She contemplated the name gravely before, with equal care, storing it away once more and locking the drawer, as if closing the last page of a chapter yet to be written.  

~•~

“Am I really going to die because of this…?" The German woman thought, lost in her own musings.  

In Kiel, one of Germany’s most strategic and robust naval bases, a slender and imposing figure gazed distantly at the feverish activity around her. Her resemblance to her sister, Scharnhorst, was striking—save for the glasses that adorned her face, lending her a taciturn air of intellectualism.  

She was Gneisenau, sister of Scharnhorst, and one of the kansens belonging to the 3rd Republikverteidigungsflotte (Republic Defense Fleet). There, in Kiel, alongside companions such as Mainz, Emden, Magdeburg, Z16, Z28, and Weser, her duty was to assist in overseeing the port—a task that, under ordinary circumstances, would amount to a monotonous routine of patrols and logistical support. But at that moment, most of the work had already been delegated to other officers, leaving her relegated to the mere role of an observer amidst the relentless motion surrounding her.  

In the distance, Magdeburg meticulously adjusted her metallic gloves, while Z16 and Z28 engaged in a lighthearted and casual conversation. Mainz and Weser, on the other hand, remained near their respective ships, absorbed in tasks that seemed to demand their full attention. Gneisenau, however, remained imposing and motionless, consumed by a mixture of frustration and despondency, a prisoner to the memories that, from time to time, emerged mercilessly.  

"Ahhh… Something could happen right now…" She murmured with a weary sigh, removing her glasses to clean them with an apathetic gesture. Her evident bad mood, however, was not enough to describe the intensity of the inner turmoil that consumed her. The bitter recollections of the war years surged into her mind with overwhelming force as her eyes absentmindedly followed the naval workers rushing back and forth, resupplying ships and inspecting vessels ready to set sail.  

That scene, in some way, rekindled the ghosts of the past—memories that Gneisenau preferred to bury deep within her soul. The inactivity that now tormented her was a true form of torture. During the stormy days of war, she would have rather sunk into the depths of the ocean than endure the burden of an existence condemned to stagnation.  

Her thoughts carried her back to that desperate time when she had been stripped of her might, deprived of her guns. Forced into a routine of endless repairs and maintenance, she had watched as her once-imposing ship was disarmed and relegated to oblivion in the dry dock.  

The memory of that colossus of steel—once glorious and invincible, now motionless and useless—filled her chest with a burning rage. The contempt she felt for everything that period represented consumed her like an unquenchable fire, rekindling a hatred that time had failed to extinguish.  

Motionless, Gneisenau once again felt at the mercy of decisions that were not her own.  

She remembered her last battle, the one she had fought in those years before returning in physical form as a **Kansen**. The mere recollection of it stirred a mixture of excitement and sorrow within her. It had been a ferocious fight—her cannons roared, explosions thundered, torpedoes were launched—it was chaos, to say the least, and in that turmoil, she had felt truly alive. But now, she was merely reliving the moments she despised most: being trapped in a dry dock, just as her ship had once been. And though this time it was temporary, the monotony of daily life seemed to be killing her slowly.  

"How long will it be before I feel the adrenaline of battle again? This time… without casualties." A heavy sigh escaped Gneisenau’s lips as she shifted her gaze from the workers to some distant point.  

"I wonder… Is this my punishment for that war? To remain here, reliving these memories while the world burns beyond this port?"

She closed her eyes for a moment, imagining herself once more in the midst of a violent naval battle. The thought unsettled her, and she would not deny it. Of all the things she knew, one truth remained absolute—war always had a price. She had seen many of those prices paid, sooner or later. She did not wish to pay that price again. And yet, at the same time, the mere thought of being confined to dry dock for the rest of her life was terrifying—intolerable, even.  

As her eyes swept across the port, Gneisenau noticed a peculiar scene that immediately captured her attention. In the distance, she spotted a man whose insignia clearly marked him as an Oberleutnant zur See—a distinction she appreciated, as it symbolized the return of traditional Kriegsmarine and Kaiserliche Marine ranks. To her, this restoration was more than symbolic; it was a return to order and the clarity of hierarchy, both of which she considered essential in times of tension.  

At first glance, the event seemed ordinary, but it quickly took on an unusual tone. The officer strode purposefully toward Magdeburg, whose expression—usually marked by disdain and nonchalance—suddenly turned serious. Intrigued, Gneisenau watched intently as their conversation unfolded, though it remained inaudible at this distance. The exchange was brief and ended abruptly—Magdeburg spun on her heels and made her way to Z16 and Z28, her voice ringing through the port with sharp, rapid orders. The two responded instantly, splitting off in opposite directions with the efficiency expected of those who understood the weight of a critical situation.  

By now, Gneisenau already knew that the monotony had come to an end.  

Magdeburg approached with firm, rapid strides, her expression heavy with gravity. The determined glint in her eyes and the shallow, breathless rhythm of her breathing confirmed the urgency of the situation.  

— Miss Gneisenau! Emergency! — Magdeburg exclaimed as soon as she arrived, the words forced between gasps, remnants of her hurried sprint.  

Gneisenau remained imposing, standing tall like the command tower of a battleship. With an almost rehearsed calmness, she extended a hand and gently placed it on Magdeburg’s back—a calculated gesture, both reassuring and inquisitive. Her sharp, unwavering gaze seemed to probe the situation before even hearing the details.  

— Breathe, Magdeburg. What did that officer report to you? — She asked, her voice low and firm, laden with authority. The controlled tone contrasted with the subtle tension in her eyes, revealing the constant vigilance of someone accustomed to crises.  

As she awaited the response, Gneisenau did not take her eyes off Magdeburg. She observed with an almost clinical precision, analyzing every breath, every hesitation, seeking to anticipate the information that was about to come. Beneath the serene surface of her exterior, something stirred—a nearly primal impulse, a restrained urge for action that had long been smothered by the exasperating calm of the port.  

The emergency, whatever it was, seemed to finally bring the call she had been waiting for.  

— We must depart immediately! — Magdeburg said, still breathing heavily. "Some Sirens have been spotted, and we are the closest fleet to stop their advance!"  

Magdeburg straightened slightly as she spoke, looking at Gneisenau, who absorbed her words in silence.  

— Afterward, we are to head to the Danish state to assist in the reconstruction of Fredericia's port! — Magdeburg continued, taking a deep breath after delivering the officer’s report.  

Nodding in understanding, Gneisenau turned abruptly, immediately barking orders to those still working on the ships, while Magdeburg hurried off to inform the rest of the fleet.  

What followed was a sudden flurry of activity at the port, as crews rushed to prepare their vessels for an early departure. Gneisenau watched the scene unfold with a faintly satisfied expression as she moved toward her own ship.  

~•~

Sailing across the turbulent waters of the North Atlantic, the task force advanced at a steady pace, driven by the elusive trail of the enemy battleship—a ghost that had haunted the Azur Lane High Command for months. Only the persistent threat of the Sirens surpassed the frustration this fruitless hunt caused among the admirals.  

Time was no longer measured in days or weeks, but in months. Months of relentless pursuit, a cat-and-mouse game that, at this point, left an unsettling question lingering in the air: who was truly the predator, and who was the prey?  

But this passage of time brought more than just exhaustion and frustration. It also brought reflection.  

Inside her ship, Deutschland remained in the mess hall, making the most of her rare moments of solitude. Without her original crew, she had only the rhythmic sound of the hull cutting through the waves for company. The mission had already stretched on for four, perhaps five months, and even the most disciplined were reaching their limits. Boredom and exhaustion had settled in like a persistent shadow, suffocating the crew’s morale. Up to that point, all they had managed to find were scattered traces and sporadic records of refueling stops at ports.  

Never in their memory had the Ironblood kansens participated in an operation so prolonged—and worse, so aimless. From the very start, they had been torn from their posts and scattered across the globe, forced to obey directives that did not come from the Militärische Oberkommando der Eisenblut, but from higher echelons within Azur Lane. Directives that, at best, were questionable; at worst, an affront to Eisenblut’s sovereignty.  

Scharnhorst, Deutschland, Graf Spee, Prinz Heinrich, and Roon had been assigned to the South Atlantic, while other German kansens were dispersed across different fronts: some stationed at the Imperial Sakura bases, others subordinated to the Northern Parliament, some relegated to garrisons in newly liberated bases in the Middle East. There were even those who, through luck or influence, managed to remain in the homeland.  

None accepted this decision willingly. None looked favorably upon the estrangement from their homeland for trivial missions and patrols that did little or nothing to honor Ironblood’s pride. The division of forces and the weakening of internal defense were glaring strategic mistakes—and, ironically, those who saw real combat were not the kansens scattered across the world, but those who remained in the homeland, now overburdened by budget cuts and a shortage of operational units.  

And so, in foreign seas, under flags that were not their own, the daughters of Eisenblut drifted—not only across the ocean but within the very fate that had been imposed upon them.  

For many, being part of this operation became an unexpected adventure—a fleeting glimpse of freedom, a remnant of what it meant to act without chains, without watchful eyes tracking their every move, without weapons pointed at their backs. But…  

What none of them imagined—and perhaps not even Azur Lane itself knew—was that, lurking in the shadows of this hunt, lay the catalyst for something far greater. A voracious monster, an untamed beast, a slumbering empress, waiting for the right moment to reclaim her crown. When that day came, she would not hesitate to lead her nation back to glory, crushing anyone who dared to stand in her way—ally or enemy alike.  

— I suppose we don’t need introductions. — Deutschland’s voice broke the silence, reverberating through the austere mess hall of her ship. Seated at the table, her eyes scanned the figures around her. To her left, Scharnhorst, her expression heavy. To her right, Z24 and Z26, both lost in thought, their faces unreadable.  

— Hm… Why are we still speaking English? — Scharnhorst grumbled, crossing her arms impatiently. — We’re not in the presence of those damned British ships.

— We’ve spent too much time within Azur Lane, always under watch. It’s only natural that certain habits form. — Deutschland shrugged, adjusting herself in the chair.  

— And? What do we do now? — Z26’s hesitant voice cut through the silence. She kept her head down, eyes fixed on the table. — I… don’t want to go back there.

— And who among us does? — Z24, always the most defiant, tapped her finger on the table. — Now we’re living as true warships again. Going back would be no different from returning to slavery.

Ah, yes… A meeting. A clandestine gathering of German kansens. A moment of reflection on the future—and on the few choices they had left.  

And, honestly, none of them were surprised that the Azur Lane High Command restricted their movements with such severity.  

Not even the Italians or Japanese suffered such scrutiny. Perhaps because their own governments, driven by calculated pragmatism, understood that their so-called allies would never truly allow them full independence.  

But for Ironblood, the humiliation ran deeper. Since their defeat in 1945, their fate had been sealed: carved up, stripped of pride and honor, reduced to a shadow of what they once were. Their history was rewritten by the victors, their achievements vilified or cast into oblivion. All because of a madman who dragged an army of fanatics with him, blinded by a twisted vision of power.  

Even after reunification in 1990, even with the rise of the Sirens and the nation’s rebirth under a new political order, the invisible chains had never been broken.  

And the shadows of those chains, woven with surgical precision by treacherous hands, still extended over them…  

— Does this mean, then, that we are to change sides? — Scharnhorst asked, her firm voice resonating among her German comrades, who, for a brief moment, remained silent. — Are we to join Tirpitz?

A bold statement, a weighty one… Yet the question had already crossed their minds countless times as they pondered their fate upon returning to Azur Lane. Even if nothing had been spoken aloud, the outcome seemed written on the table: to whom, after all, would the Ironblood kansens swear their loyalty?  

— We act the moment we find Tirpitz — Deutschland declared, raising her hand slightly, as if carefully weighing each word. Her gaze fell upon her own fingers in a contemplative gesture. — The British will be absorbed in their own distraction. And it is at that exact moment that we will strike them from behind and join Tirpitz.

— Hmmm… — Scharnhorst leaned forward slightly, considering the strategy. — That makes sense… We are four against six. Waiting for Tirpitz’s arrival and attacking is undoubtedly the most sensible course of action. 

— So it shall be. — Deutschland, having taken command of the meeting, rose from her chair with determination. — The moment Tirpitz appears, we will seize the British confusion and strike them from behind, thus sealing our alliance. 

The four kansens nodded in silent understanding. A decision had been made, and there was no longer room for hesitation. One by one, they stood and made their way back to their respective ships.  

Only Deutschland remained. After all, she was already aboard hers.  

The decision had been made. There was no turning back.  

Deutschland remained in place for a few seconds, watching the other three walk away, their silhouettes disappearing through the metallic corridors of the Panzerschiff. The weight of the choice bore down on her, but at the same time, there was a sense of liberation.  

— The time has come to break our chains… — She murmured to herself before rising and leaving the mess hall.  

The gears of fate were in motion. What once seemed like a routine Azur Lane mission had now transformed into something much greater. They were not just after Tirpitz. They were after something that had long been denied to them: autonomy.  

And the British… Ah, the British. They would never see this coming.  

Deutschland felt a surge of satisfaction at the thought of the plan. When Tirpitz finally appeared, the battle would no longer be a mere pursuit—it would be an ambush, a decisive strike against those who believed they controlled the fate of the Ironblood kansens.  

And when the first shot was fired… the world would finally realize that the Reich was not dead. It had merely been waiting for the right moment to roar once more…  

~•~  

In an unknown base, resting majestically by the dock, the imposing battleship Tirpitz lay under the careful inspection of several workers—young women, recently rescued from lethargy and brought back into existence in the modern world.  

The past few months had been marked by relentless activity. Tirpitz and Mia had dedicated themselves tirelessly to the arduous task of awakening those who, for long years, had remained immersed in an enigmatic state of dormancy. Each day passed in meticulous efforts and unexpected discoveries, many of which proved invaluable for maintaining and restoring the uniforms and weaponry preserved in the naval base’s storerooms.  

And it was precisely one such discovery that occurred in an unusual—and perhaps rather comical—manner…  

By sheer accident, it was revealed that the liquid used in reanimation possessed astonishing properties: beyond reviving dormant bodies, it was also capable of restoring metal corroded by the relentless passage of time. The remarkable discovery took place when a soldier, through mere carelessness, dropped an old Luger P08, already consumed by rust, into one of the tanks containing the mysterious blue fluid.  

Wary of handling the weapon in that state, one of the scientists hurried off to fetch a proper pair of gloves. However, the brief minutes that passed were enough for them to return and witness an astonishing phenomenon: parts of the metal, once worn down by the implacable march of time, had been restored to their original form, as if they had never suffered the degradation of age.  

From that moment on, the scientists intensified their experiments, applying the liquid not only to weapons and uniforms but to all manner of aged artifacts that could be immersed in the tanks and three-meter capsules. Each new test revealed a little more of the extraordinary properties of that substance—an enigma whose true nature still awaited the moment to be fully unveiled.  

The continuation of the experiments revealed that the time required for the restoration of each artifact varied according to its size and complexity. Small firearms, such as the Luger P08, Walther P38, and Walther PPK, required one to two hours to return to their original state. However, if they were excessively degraded, the process could extend up to three hours.  

More intricate weaponry, such as those lying in the base’s stockpiles for decades—MG42, MG34, Panzerfaust, Panzerschreck, MP40, and Kar98k—demanded significantly longer to regain operational status. On average, regeneration took between four and nine hours, and in extreme cases of decomposition, it could reach up to ten. The same principle applied to grenades and ammunition, whose restoration time fluctuated within this range.  

However, it was not only the weapons that required meticulous attention. Military uniforms, in turn, had to remain submerged in the restorative substance for an entire day to recover their original integrity—a detail that, although causing slight annoyance to Tirpitz, had the advantage of allowing large batches to be immersed at once, simplifying the process.  

For Tirpitz, this endeavor proved to be an intriguing task, to say the least. It kept her away from the monotony of patrolling the island, granting her a singular purpose: restoring weapons and clothing as if they were about to be handed to a soldier before departing for the front lines. There was a peculiar pleasure in it, an almost playful sensation of bringing back to the present the war instruments of a long-gone era.  

What also caught her attention was the surprisingly abundant supply stockpiled in that naval base. Everything indicated that, at some point, the High Command of the Kriegsmarine, or even the Wehrmacht itself, had assigned strategic priority to that location. The magnitude of the stockpiles was astonishing. The M35 Stahlhelm helmet, for instance, had no fewer than 98,486 units stacked in the warehouses.  

The StG44 was another noteworthy example, with 107 cataloged units. The quantities varied according to the model:  

Kar98k – 1,923 units;  

MG34 – 841;  

MG42 – 1,783;  

Gewehr 43 – 534.  

Each count only made Tirpitz more intrigued—it seemed that this base held strategic importance. This was not merely a military warehouse.  

It was, without a doubt, one of the most important logistical bastions of the German war machine. The question for Tirpitz was the reason behind this base’s existence and the sheer amount of logistics it contained. What was the Wehrmacht thinking?  

The M24 Stielhandgranate became the subject of meticulous studies, as they were by far the most numerous among all the weapons and war supplies stored in the base. An astonishing contingent of 198,529 units lay in the warehouses, representing not only a colossal stockpile but also a latent threat.  

The only factor mitigating this risk was the fact that all the grenades were stored in a sector that was, at least temporarily, secure. However, the precariousness of the facilities demanded urgent renovations—without them, that arsenal could, at any moment, turn into a catastrophe.  

Tirpitz understood the need to act swiftly. The secrecy surrounding the base was an invaluable advantage, and it was her duty to ensure that its structure was properly safeguarded before any surprise attack could compromise everything.  

Now, however, her attention turned to the pier, where she carefully observed the unfolding activity, as well as the ceaseless work aboard her own ship. The progress, though slow, was undeniable. The natural sounds of naval life—the creaking of ropes, the cracking of wood, the echo of orders exchanged between sailors—gave the environment a peculiar sense of rebirth, as if that long-dormant base were finally beginning to awaken.  

Turning around, she found herself facing the approach of a singular group. Forty-four women, all clad in distinct uniforms, marched toward her. Their appearances suggested ages between twenty-two and twenty-five, reflecting the various military divisions to which they belonged.  

Among them, seven generals stood out: three from the Kriegsmarine, two from the Luftwaffe, and two from the Heer, constituting the highest echelon of the Wehrmacht present at the base. Beyond them, the majority consisted of officers: fourteen from the Kriegsmarine, twelve from the Luftwaffe, and eleven from the Heer. All aligned under a single purpose.  

The meeting was not merely a formality. Upon assuming leadership of that stronghold—which was already beginning to be called "the last bastion of the Reich"—Tirpitz had been elevated to the rank of Generaloberst, or, as officially designated, Generaloberst der Neuen Wehrmacht.  

The decision not only solidified her authority but also granted her the right to assemble a significant military contingent. Among them, some would serve as her direct aides, while others would form a highly influential military council, essential for the base’s administration and operational command.  

Was there anything to regret? Certainly not. Their presence represented invaluable support, both in strategic organization and military management. If this was the embryo of a new force, it was Tirpitz’s duty to guide them. For this bastion would not merely endure—it would thrive. And Tirpitz would see to it…  

— My leader, are you deep in thought, or merely observing the movement around you? — Inquired one of the Kriegsmarine generals, a woman of regal bearing and natural authority, whose name was Charlotte von Braunschweig.  

Her long black hair cascaded like a mantle of shadows over her shoulders, and her eyes, a pale and icy green, resembled the crystalline waters of a fjord beneath a winter sky.  

There was something untamed in her presence, a reflection of her experience in the turbulent seas of war.  

Her gaze met Tirpitz’s, who, as always, displayed a serene and inscrutable expression, marked by an almost marble-like neutrality. The albino woman’s eyes reflected the relentless cold of the North Atlantic currents, like windows into the barren vastness of the Arctic.  

The history of those generals was, from a certain perspective, curious and even shrouded in secrecy known only to the innermost circles of the High Command. Anticipating the need for strategic continuity amid the uncertainties of the battlefield, the Wehrmacht had authorized an unusual contingency project: the creation of a reserve caste of generals—an hidden ace, a body of officers that could be activated if the primary chain of command was severed by the misfortunes of war. Thus, these women—who had once been men—were restored in 1942, brought back to the world of the living as heirs to Germany’s military legacy.  

The same principle applied to the officers who accompanied them, albeit in a less intricate manner. If the generals were the hidden card of strategic command, the reborn officers had the clear mission of maintaining the organizational structure intact, ensuring that the German war machine did not fragment. All of them had combat experience from 1939 to 1941, a valuable asset that was now at Tirpitz’s disposal.  

‘Leader... Hmm... I presume this will be my new title from now on…’ Tirpitz reflected, casting an analytical gaze over the women around her.  

— I am awaiting the completion of my ship’s maintenance — She replied, sliding her gloved hands into the pockets of her naval coat. — Once it is ready, I will depart for four days in search of supplies or any information that may prove useful to us...

Even though she had grown accustomed to the strangeness of this new reality, there was something peculiar that always lingered in her mind: the idea that all these women had once been men. And while their memories had been preserved, along with their aptitudes and personality traits, their bodies now reflected a new form, devoid of certain masculine characteristics—they could no longer grow mustaches or display overly hairy legs, for instance, yet they retained the strength, speed, and physical attributes that had once defined their capabilities on the battlefield.  

—Allow me to accompany you, my leader. I can be of great assistance. I possess vast experience in naval battles.

The voice broke the silence with respectful firmness, denoting an unshakable military discipline.  

The officer who had stepped forward was Isadora Schreiber, a member of the Kriegsmarine. Her birth name, however, had been different: Michael Schreiber. In her previous life, she had served aboard the destroyer Z22 Anton Schmitt, perishing during the Battle of Narvik, when British naval guns reduced the German fleet to smoldering wreckage. Now, reborn in a new body and under a new name, she sought to reclaim the thread of her interrupted destiny, following the one she now saw as her commander.  

The air carried the scent of oil and saltpeter, and in the distance, the boilers of the battleship under maintenance exhaled columns of steam, like giants awakening from a forced slumber. A part of the harbor was bustling with activity: sailors adjusted mooring ropes, officers discussed strategies over nautical charts, and a few rare torpedoes were being inspected with meticulous scrutiny.  

Soon, the engines would roar, signal lights would flash from the masts, and the seas would once again bear witness to the relentless march of the Kriegsmarine…  

In absolute silence, Tirpitz merely observed as the officers of the Kriegsmarine and Luftwaffe volunteered to accompany her on the impending mission. In contrast, the representatives of the Heer remained reserved, aware of their operational limitations—they lacked the necessary training for handling aircraft, nor did they possess experience with naval operations required for the mission.  

The generals, for their part, remained silent not out of hesitation, but out of strict professionalism. Their primary function was to ensure the administrative continuity of the base during Tirpitz’s absence, guaranteeing that infrastructure and strategic operations would not be compromised.  

— Lisa Petersen will join the air patrol at my side — Tirpitz announced, her voice cutting through the silence with its characteristic coldness. — Carina Schmitt, Katherine Keller, and Isadora Schreiber will accompany me. The rest will remain here, coordinating the reactivation of the designated sectors of the base.

In a synchronized and disciplined movement, the officers aligned and saluted her with military precision, exclaiming in unison:  

"Verstanden, mein Führer!"  

Without hesitation, each of them set out to fulfill the established directives, while the generals dispersed to assume their command posts. Only Tirpitz and the three selected officers remained.  

The logistical situation at the base was progressing satisfactorily. Eliza, with her meticulous efficiency, had ensured the continuous dispatch of strategic supplies—ammunition, complex military equipment, and heavy weaponry—to restore the installation to full operational capacity. In addition, essential provisions flowed regularly: food, naval fuel, and shells for the fleet, ensuring uninterrupted maritime operations.  

With an eye for even the smallest details, Tirpitz approached one of the engineers responsible for the battleship’s maintenance, inquiring whether the ship was ready to set sail. The response came with a discreet nod—the final adjustments had been completed, and only a last inspection was underway.  

It wasn’t long before the maintenance crew left the battleship. As soon as the last technician set foot on solid ground, Tirpitz was the first to embark, climbing the metal stairs with firm, resolute steps.  

— Let’s go. I have a feeling this journey will bring us… interesting events.  

She withdrew her hands from her coat pockets and strode across the deck, followed by the three officers. Once the crew confirmed the ship’s readiness, orders were issued, and the imposing battleship began to detach from the mooring bollards. Slowly, the colossal war machine pulled away from the dock, its hull cutting through the waters with grandeur.  

On the horizon, the steel leviathan sailed into the unknown, ready to face the challenges that lay ahead…  

~•~  

Aboard the task force’s Panzerschiff, Deutschland stood on the command bridge, her eyes fixed on the vast expanse of the ocean. The deep blue of the waters mirrored the clear sky, granting it a fleeting serenity.  

— Gott… A crossing as calm as this… — She murmured to herself, letting out a quiet sigh. — Spee would no doubt appreciate this weather…  

There was a hint of melancholy in her voice. Memories drifted through her mind, reminiscences of times that, perhaps, would never return. However, a sudden buzz from the internal radio shattered the silence of the cabin.  

A voice echoed through the loudspeakers, carrying a tone of intrigue:  

— [Deutschland, Hier Scharnhorst, kommen! I have news that, I believe, will be of great interest to you!]

Chapter Text

— It’s a rather peculiar feeling… Quite different from being aboard a destroyer — Murmured Isadora, scanning the horizon through her binoculars. She was on the observation platform of the command bridge, accompanied by Carina and Katharina.

Meanwhile, Lisa was walking the decks alongside Tirpitz, who was carefully explaining the operation of the Arado Ar 196 floatplane, describing the catapult launch procedures, the patrol flight maneuvers, and the recovery methods after a water landing.

— I completely understand your uneasiness. It also took me a while to adapt when I was transferred to the Blücher in March… — Carina remarked, keeping her gaze fixed on the sea as she adjusted the focus of her Zeiss binoculars. A sigh escaped her lips as she recalled her own misfortune — she had been assigned to the Blücher back when it still bore the name Klaus Schmidt.

— Ah, yes… The ill-fated Norway campaign. That’s where I perished — in Narvik. — Isadora let out a brief laugh, tinged with irony. — Sometimes I wonder if joining the Kriegsmarine was truly a sensible decision…

They exchanged subtle smiles, sharing memories of a war that had claimed them — and paradoxically united them — under a new flag. Katharina, who had remained reserved until then, decided to speak:

— And I was assigned to the Karlsruhe just one week before it sank.”

For a brief moment, the atmosphere grew less rigid. The seriousness of their mission gave way to a rare moment of camaraderie. However, duty quickly reclaimed its place. The three officers returned their focus to the vastness of the ocean, scanning each sector for any silhouette that might indicate the presence of a hostile ship — or, ideally, a lone freighter, ripe for boarding.

~•~  

Sailing in tactical formation alongside the battleship, the task force advanced at full speed, with lookouts remaining alert for any radar signals. The tense silence over the radio only amplified the anticipation of any unexpected contact.

— Tirpitz is really in these waters, Deutschland? — Asked Victorious, turning to face the German woman standing a few steps away.

Victorious was a woman with long blonde hair and blue eyes, her attire suggesting more than what was typically acceptable by naval standards. This was the fourth time she had encountered Deutschland, but this time, she could finally observe her up close.

Deutschland, in contrast, maintained an impassive expression, her enigmatic gaze fixed on the British Kansen. Her hands remained in the pockets of her naval uniform, and her voice carried no hint of emotion.

— Yes. Gneisenau reported that one of her reconnaissance planes spotted her in this area… — She replied with calculated coldness. It was imperative that Victorious suspect nothing of the true plan she and her compatriots had devised against the British ships.

Sighing at the response, Victorious hoped she was right, then ordered four of her Corsairs to stand by for launch from her aircraft carrier.

Turning on her heels, Deutschland walked away from Victorious, casually removing her hands from her pockets with practiced ease. With a discreet gesture, she signaled silently to Scharnhorst. “Everything is going according to plan. Inform the others.”

The other German received the message instantly. With a subtle nod, she turned and relayed the instructions to the escort destroyers, ordering them to remain ready for what was to come.

The task force entered a state of high alert, but each side moved with different intentions. For the British, it was the looming threat of an encounter with Tirpitz. For the German Kansens, however, the focus was elsewhere: the conspiracy unfolding in the shadows.

~•~

Tirpitz's firm steps echoed softly across the steel deck, muffled only by the constant roar of the waves crashing against the battleship’s hull.

On the aft deck, Lisa was already settling into the cockpit of the Arado Ar 196, reviewing the equipment before receiving clearance for takeoff. The floatplane, fixed to the catapult, rocked slightly with the motion of the sea.

In the command cabin, Katharina kept her eyes trained on the sea, scanning each sector through her binoculars. Her gaze froze.

— Hmm… Warte eine Minute… Was ist das? — She murmured, furrowing her brow.

She adjusted the zoom. Her expression hardened.

— Feinde in Sicht!! — She shouted, shattering the silence.

Immediately, Carina and Isadora turned in the indicated direction.

— Zwei Flugzeugträger und ein Schlachtschiff… — Carina enumerated, analyzing the distant enemy formation.

— Und Kreuzer und… Unsere eigenen Schiffe?! — Isadora added, confusion clear in her voice.

The three officers exchanged perplexed glances. There they were—Kriegsmarine ships sailing alongside the British force. It was a disturbing sight—strange, repulsive, and above all, unforgivable.

For a moment, the inevitable question hung in the air: what did it mean?

Isadora was the first to break the silence. Her gaze hardened.

— Halbe Fahrt Voraus!

Tirpitz’s ship responded immediately, moving ahead at half speed toward the fleet ahead.

— Hauptgeschütze laden! — Carina shouted, triggering a chain reaction.

The ghostly crew of the guns rushed to their stations. The massive 380 mm artillery loading mechanisms sprang into motion.

— Zielen auf feindliches Schiff!

And finally, with a firm gesture, Katharina gave the command that would seal the beginning of the confrontation.

— Löse den Alarm aus! Feind in Sicht!! Alles in höchster Alarm!!

The full battle klaxon tore through the silence, echoing like a thunderclap of steel over the stormy ocean.

The Reich's last bastion had finally spotted the enemies it longed for…

The Tirpitz’s alarms echoed throughout the ship, reverberating like metallic thunder against the hull's steel. Tirpitz’s eyes widened slightly at the sound of the call, but she did not slow her pace toward the command bridge.

{Lisa, you are to take off shortly. Report enemy positions as soon as you're airborne.}

The albino’s voice rang over the radio, firm and filled with resolve.

— Jawohl, Frau Tirpitz! — Lisa responded before cutting the communication.

In response, Tirpitz activated the catapult mechanisms, preparing the Arado Ar 196 for launch.

On the command bridge, Isadora was the first to notice her arrival.

— Kapitän auf der Brücke!

She immediately saluted the albino, followed by Katharina and Carina. Tirpitz merely nodded, her eyes quickly scanning the environment before focusing on her officers.

— So, we have guests…

— Yes, mein Führer. British ships… and German vessels among them — Katharina was the first to speak, stepping aside to allow Tirpitz to move forward to the observation deck.

The albino frowned as she approached.

— German ships alongside the British?

— Yes, and furthermore, there are two aircraft carriers in the enemy formation — Carina continued, keeping her eyes on the horizon. — “One of the Illustrious class and another from the Courageous class.”

— We’ve seen no offensive movement yet, but it’s likely the carriers are already preparing their aircraft for launch — Isadora added, as Tirpitz pondered the situation.

They were outnumbered — ten to one. A direct confrontation would be a considerable risk, but a tactical approach could balance the odds.

Tirpitz turned to her officers.

— Bring the ship to port. Maintain speed.

The three nodded and awaited the next orders.

— I want all main batteries aimed at the carriers. Secondaries should focus on the cruisers and escorts to wear them down. Anti-aircraft guns on full alert.

The battleship responded at once, altering its course. Its massive turrets began to rotate, the main guns adjusting their elevation to align with the targets.

The decision was clear: keep distance and strike at maximum artillery efficiency. That would leave room for defensive maneuvers should they need to retreat.

— Bereiten Sie sich auf Feindkontakt vor! Alle Luftabwehrkräfte, bleiben Sie wachsam! — Carina shouted, and immediately the metallic click of firing locks echoed through the ship’s structure.

The anti-air batteries entered full alert.

~•~

On the aft decks, Lisa was already in the cockpit of the Arado Ar 196, the floatplane’s engines roaring at full power.

— Das Flugzeug ist jetzt abflugbereit! Alle Voraussetzungen sind erfüllt!

The catapult came to life, launching the floatplane forward. Lisa gripped the controls tightly as she felt the sudden thrust. The Arado cut through the air, dipped slightly, then stabilized.

{Lisa to Tirpitz. I’m airborne. Beginning reconnaissance.}

Her voice came over the radio as the aircraft climbed, moving away from the battleship.

~•~

Deutschland observed the activity from the stern of her own ship.

Her eyes followed Tirpitz, now turning to port and realigning her batteries.

Then she saw the Arado Ar 196 tear through the skies.

— Already in combat mode… impressive — She murmured, leaning slightly to get a better view.

Her gaze slid over the imposing artillery turrets of the Tirpitz, each one aimed directly at the British ships.

— Clearly, those guns are targeting either the Howe or the carriers...

The confrontation was inevitable.

— And speaking of carriers...

Deutschland turned to observe the imposing Victorious and Glorious, both in full operation. From Victorious's flight deck, a squadron of six Corsairs roared into the sky, while Glorious released six Blackburn T.5 Ripon torpedo bombers, all heading directly for the Tirpitz.

The plan was unfolding.

— Almost there… we just need her to fire first… then...

Her eyes trembled slightly as she glanced down at the bridge floor.

— We just need to strike from behind...

Deutschland's guns were angled slightly, pointing in the general direction of Tirpitz. To a casual observer, it might have seemed like a simple routine alignment… but it was a ruse.

Across the formation, Scharnhorst was doing the same, keeping her batteries aimed at Tirpitz under the pretense of a tactical repositioning. To any observant Brit, it looked like coordinated maneuvering between allies.

But the Germans knew the truth.

All they needed was a single shot from Tirpitz to trigger the ambush.

At the front line, Z24 remained close to Scharnhorst, while Z26 positioned itself near the British cruiser Penelope, masking its true intentions. Both Type 1936A destroyers had their torpedo tubes ready to fire, waiting only for the right moment.

The radio crackled. Glorious’s voice came through, tense.

{Attention all units! Tirpitz’s guns are already locked onto us! Stay on alert and ready your weapons!}

On the horizon, the twelve British aircraft advanced along Tirpitz's starboard flank. The torpedo bombers descended into attack formation, while the escorting Corsairs held a defensive barrier.

Lisa, now at a safe altitude, confirmed the incoming threat over the radio.

{Enemies approaching! Six fighters and six torpedo bombers, coming from starboard!}

Tirpitz's anti-aircraft batteries, long since on standby, awaited only the proper range to open fire.

Deutschland stood firm.

— Three...

Her guns rotated, adjusting aim. Her target: Victorious.

— Two...

She drew a deep breath, eyes cold and fixed on the British carrier.

Then, in the charged silence, Tirpitz fired.

The roar of the 380 mm main guns tore through the air like thunder, their flash lighting up the deck.

A moment later, the secondary batteries opened up, followed by the deafening blast of the anti-aircraft defenses. The steel of the battleship trembled under the impact of the detonations, as projectiles tore through the sky toward the incoming aircraft.

That was the signal.

Deutschland felt the exact moment.

— Eins…

Deutschland's 283 mm guns spat fire and steel, launching a full salvo. The shells tore through the air and struck Victorious's citadel with devastating force.

— Feuer frei!! — She shouted, and Scharnhorst followed suit.

Scharnhorst's 283 mm guns also roared in succession, firing at the British battleship Howe, while her secondary batteries unleashed fire on the cruisers Newcastle and Glasgow.

At the same time, torpedoes were launched at Glorious.

At the front line, Z24 and Z26 sprang into action.

Z24 launched a full spread of torpedoes at the British ships, while Z26, positioned close to Penelope, launched three torpedoes directly at the cruiser.

The Type 1936A destroyers opened fire with their powerful 150 mm guns—far mightier than a typical destroyer's—spitting shells at the enemy ships. The explosions tore away steel and sparked debris, fueling the sudden chaos.

The sea boiled under the roar of battle.

The theater of betrayal was finally complete.

There was no turning back now.

~•~ 

— The German ships… they're attacking the British! — Carina moved abruptly, eyes wide as she watched the scene through her binoculars.

— Yes! And they're doing serious damage! — Katharina confirmed, her voice laced with surprise, but also a mix of satisfaction and tension. — Looks like an ambush!

— Pretending to be an ally to strike at the right moment… — Isadora analyzed the situation, a glint in her eyes. — Risky… but fascinating to watch.

Tirpitz gave a slight smile, watching everything through her own personal binoculars.

It was rare for her to be surprised, but to see her expectations so brutally exceeded was, without a doubt, an unexpected pleasure.

— Certainly, something pleasant to witness. — Her tone was serene, but the intensity in her eyes betrayed her true thoughts.

The German ships infiltrated among the British formation struck without hesitation, unleashing their full firepower upon their targets. Cannons thundered, torpedoes streaked across the waters, and explosions lit up the horizon.

Then, something unexpected happened.

The infiltrated German ships began to vanish in a myriad of blue cubes, dissolving into the air amid the chaos of battle. In their place, four small figures emerged, skimming over the water at high speed, heading directly for Tirpitz.

And then—

Ratatatatatatatatat! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Machine guns and anti-aircraft cannons echoed all around.

Tirpitz remained still, merely observing.

Were they underestimating her?

Or worse… did they think they could sink her the same way they had done with Bismarck?

If that was their plan, they were about to make a fatal mistake.

Tirpitz was not Bismarck.

She had undergone extensive upgrades. Her air radar was modernized, her anti-aircraft defenses reinforced and enhanced, her torpedo protection improved, and new electronic systems were integrated into the ship.

If the British thought they could bring her down with a handful of planes, they were about to learn a bitter lesson.

Her eyes turned to the sky.

The twelve British aircraft were already near, diving into their attack run.

It was the last thing they would do before hell broke loose.

Ratatatatatatatatat! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Tirpitz’s anti-aircraft weapons opened fire with full force.

The sky turned into a maelstrom of tracer rounds and explosions. 37 mm and 20 mm projectiles crisscrossed the air in lethal patterns, while 105 mm flak shells burst among the enemy formations.

And the carnage began.

The British realized too late they were facing a monster.

Tirpitz’s anti-aircraft weapons roared like ravenous beasts, eager to shred the intruders. The sky became a hell of fire and steel, filled with tracer shells slashing through the air with lethal fury. With each volley, the storm grew denser, transforming the space around the battleship into an impenetrable domain of destruction.

Unlike other German ships, Tirpitz boasted the most advanced anti-aircraft defense the Kriegsmarine had ever deployed. Her armament, superior to that of any other German battleship, made her a bastion of fire—a floating fortress capable of terrifying even the most seasoned pilots.

Her sister, Bismarck, had fallen under a relentless air assault—partly due to her defensive vulnerabilities.

But Tirpitz was not Bismarck.

She would not fall so easily.

The British aircraft pressed on, but something felt off. The very air around them seemed heavier, charged with a dark and threatening presence.

It was as if Tirpitz’s shadow loomed over them, a silent omen of their imminent destruction.

The message was clear: such an insignificant force could never challenge a giant of steel.

And then, the massacre began.

~•~

{Ugh! What are you doing?!}

Victorious’s anguished voice tore through the radio, filled with panic and desperation. Her scream wasn’t just a sound transmitted over the airwaves—it was the echo of her fleet’s impending doom.

The German kansens emerged from the water, freed from their ship forms. Sprinting across the ocean like predators, they turned the sea into an execution ground, unleashing hell upon the British kansens.

At the front lines, the Royal Navy's ships teetered on the edge of collapse. Tirpitz’s massive salvos rained down upon them like divine judgment, followed by the relentless barrage of her secondary guns, giving the enemy no respite.

Anguish. Despair. Panic.

The deafening roar of the cannons echoed like divine thunder, while each salvo split the skies like flaming spears of destruction. The air was thick with the scent of gunpowder, smoke, and twisted steel, turning the sea into a grave drenched in oil and blood.

Wreckage from British ships littered the waters, silent witnesses to the fleet’s downfall.

And then—

KA-BOOM!

A colossal explosion shook the waters.

KA-BOOM!

Another, even greater.

Screams echoed over the radio—but there was no hope left.

The carrier Glorious tilted dangerously, doomed after two direct torpedo hits.

The light cruiser Penelope had taken three brutal strikes—two in the engine room and one in the magazine.

The result was instantaneous: a devastating detonation consumed her structure, cracking her hull open like an eggshell.

She sank in less than three minutes.

It was a grim reminder of what Tirpitz could do if left unchained in the Atlantic.

The Kriegsmarine’s tragedy in the last war had been to imprison her, to keep her far from home, vulnerable.

Now, the British were paying the price for underestimating her.

Ships once proud and mighty, their histories steeped in past glories, now writhed and were torn apart in the ocean, crushed beneath the unrelenting fury of vengeful German kansens.

The so-called “powder fuse” of Victorious hadn’t just been lit—it had exploded with overwhelming fury.

But this wasn’t mere naval warfare.

It was a spectacle of horror and destruction.

Terror and despair now floated over the Atlantic, far from any force that could intervene.

And what remained of the British...

Was only silence and ashes.

— Auf Wiedersehen, Briten.

With palpable disdain, Deutschland turned toward the British ships, halting the fire of her cannons. Her tone carried not only contempt—but also a dark promise.

— Let this be a lesson... We will not be chained again.

The message echoed over the radio, as clear as thunder.

Deutschland sailed away from the enemy fleet, her rigging glinting under the setting sun. Behind her, Scharnhorst, Z24, and Z26 followed her lead, ceasing their attacks and moving toward Tirpitz’s ship.

The threat was left hanging in the air.

The German kansens were retreating victorious, leaving behind what was left of the British fleet—humiliated, demoralized, and reduced to mere shadows of what they once were.

It was an indescribable feeling.

An absolute triumph.

Since being brought back into this world, they had never felt anything like this.

On the other side, Victorious, already weakened, could barely hide the bitterness of defeat.

— Retreat! All ships, immediate retreat!

Her voice was exhausted over the radio, but there was no other choice.

Howe, in a final act of duty, managed to recover Glorious’s Wisdom Cube before the sea completely claimed the carrier.

But Penelope...

The light cruiser had sunk too fast. Her Wisdom Cube vanished into the depths of the Atlantic, and only a rescue mission could hope to retrieve it—if there was time.

The aftermath of the battle was devastating for the Royal Navy.

An absolute defeat.

And worse: they hadn’t even touched Tirpitz.

Victorious’s aircraft barely scratched her armor with short bursts, and Glorious’s torpedo bombers missed their marks, shot down before they ever had a chance.

It was a total disaster.

And the waters of the Atlantic were the only silent witnesses to Britain’s humiliation.

The battle was over. But the scar it left behind would be eternal.

The German kansens’ message resonated in the heart of the Royal Navy:

They would not accept chains.

They were beasts unleashed upon the ocean.

And if the British dared challenge them again...

The price would be even higher.

~•~

— Haha… We won!

Carina let out a soft laugh as she watched the British forces retreating. Tirpitz's ship was already beginning to slow down, preparing to recover its Arado seaplane and capture one of the downed British fighters, which floated not far off.

— An aircraft carrier and a cruiser sunk, — Isadora remarked, a satisfied smile appearing as she observed the wreckage. — The old Kriegsmarine would be proud of this sight…

A sigh of relief and satisfaction escaped Isadora’s lips.

They were alone in the ocean, surrounded by the acrid scent of smoke, gunpowder, and destruction, and yet...

The German ships had remained loyal to their homeland.

And Deutschland, Scharnhorst, and the other kansens knew it.

A discreet smile appeared on their faces.

VROOOOMMM...

The sound of the Arado seaplane slicing through the air made the girls' hair sway. The plane landed gently on the water, its engines throttling down as it glided toward the battleship.

— Ahhhh… Gott… How invigorating.

Scharnhorst took a deep breath and exhaled, her voice filled with satisfaction.

The feeling was almost nostalgic.

Naval warfare, in the classic style, made the blood boil in their veins.

If Seydlitz and the old ships of the Kaiserliche Marine had been there, they would have felt transported back to Jutland.

And whether those memories were good or bad didn’t really matter.

Adrenaline still pulsed through their veins.

The war was far from over.

But on that day—

The Atlantic belonged to the Germans.

~~

While the seaplane was carefully placed back onto the launch catapult, the kansens enjoyed that rare moment of rest and contemplation. They had left their mark on those waters, and the feeling of accomplishment hung in the air like a refreshing breeze.

The confidence that had once been shaken was now restored.

They knew even greater challenges awaited them on the horizon, but they were no longer alone—now, they no longer belonged to Azur Lane, and that gave them a new freedom.

— Yes… it’s a refreshing feeling, — Deutschland agreed with Scharnhorst as the four kansens approached the solitary battleship.

Tirpitz, imposing as ever, was already retrieving a downed Corsair, likely for study or salvage. After that battle, this naval adventure had already been more than enough for one day.

— Hey! Look, there's Tirpitz! — Z26 exclaimed, pointing upward.

They followed her gaze and saw a stunning and sophisticated woman with short white hair, wearing a pristine white Kapitän zur See uniform. Her posture radiated authority and serenity—a true reflection of the strength Tirpitz represented.

Behind her, three other women followed, wearing uniforms identical to hers, in the same design as the defunct Kriegsmarine—garments clearly made for men, but on them, they looked like symbols of tradition and respect.

— What a reception, — Scharnhorst murmured, watching Tirpitz descend the stairs, followed by the three officers.

At the same time, the Arado’s cockpit opened, and a young Luftwaffe pilot emerged, dressed in the standard uniform of the German air force. She walked toward Tirpitz and the captains as the atmosphere grew thick with a mixture of respect and excitement.

It was a meeting of warriors, united by the same passion for the German navy.

The same unbreakable determination to defend the nation beat in each of their hearts.

It was a special moment.

— It’s good to know we now have allies by our side… — Tirpitz let out a soft chuckle, without losing her composure.

Behind her, Isadora, Carina, and Katharina walked with firm steps, eager to see Deutschland, Scharnhorst, Z24, and Z26 returning to their true forms.

And then, it happened.

Strange blue cubes emerged from the waters, shimmering with a spectral light. They floated around the kansens, taking shape before everyone's eyes.

In moments, the majestic ships of the Kriegsmarine reappeared—imposing, powerful, as if the very past had been brought back to life.

The Panzerschiffe Deutschland, the battlecruiser Scharnhorst, and the destroyers Z24 and Z26 now circled Tirpitz like a true escort.

The scene was spectacular—a sight worthy of the German navy’s former glories.

Lisa approached the group, her eyes shining as she witnessed that manifestation of strength and unity.

To her, it was the embodiment of the German spirit, proof that they would always be ready to face any challenge that came their way.

The presence of the ships filled the air with respect and admiration, just like in the past, when the Kriegsmarine still inspired fear and reverence on the seas.

— It’s a great pleasure to see you again, — Tirpitz greeted the four kansens, her tone heavy with nostalgia. — I still remember the times I spent with you… our voyage to Altafjord, Operation Zitronella…

She looked at Scharnhorst and Deutschland, recalling the moments they shared in the war before their sinkings.

— Knowing that you still remember us is gratifying, — Scharnhorst smiled, returning the greeting. — It’s a pleasure to see you again…

Deutschland saluted Tirpitz in the same way, as did the two destroyers, showing respect and gratitude.

— Likewise, — Tirpitz offered a small smile. — I believe we have much to discuss…

She then stepped aside so her officers could introduce themselves to the kansens.

— It’s an honor to meet you in person, — The first to speak was Isadora, firm and confident. — My name is Isadora Schreiber. I served on the destroyer Z22 Anton Schmitt.

She shook hands with the four kansens—a gesture of respect and camaraderie.

— Carina Schmidt. I served aboard the cruiser Blücher, — She did the same, smiling gently. — An honor to meet you.

— I’m Katharina Keller. I served on the Karlsruhe.

Finally, the pilot introduced herself.

— My name is Lisa Petersen, from the Luftwaffe, — Lisa shook the kansens’ hands, a bright gleam in her eyes. — I took part in the air raids against Britain, the invasion of France… and Operation Barbarossa.

She paused before finishing.

— I was shot down and killed there.

A brief silence fell over the group. But it wasn’t sadness—it was respect.

And then, with the ships heading toward the base where Tirpitz was stationed, the kansens and the officers gathered for an important conversation.

There were stories to be shared, experiences to exchange—and above all…

Plans for the future.

~•~

— Damn it… this hurts… — Victorious muttered, feeling the searing pain course through her body—a direct consequence of being a kansen, a warship in human form.

She glanced toward her aircraft carrier and swallowed hard. The situation was critical. Huge holes marred the structure, especially on the starboard side and the stern, where Deutschland had taken her by surprise. Other areas were also heavily damaged, struck by Scharnhorst’s secondary batteries and the few, yet deadly, hits from Tirpitz.

The superstructure was compromised, the flight deck unusable, and the hangar in chaos. Despite their protection, her aircraft had toppled over one another from the impacts, turning the ship's interior into a scene of devastation.

She felt every bit of damage as if it had been inflicted directly upon her flesh. The pain was unbearable.

Still, there was a bitter relief: despite the listing to starboard, she could still make it to the nearest port. The same couldn’t be said for Glorious…

The old Royal Navy carrier had fought well, but the flaws of its 1920s conversion had taken their toll. Even with modernization efforts, its structural deficiencies were never truly resolved. It was as if the Royal Navy had added it to a “fix later” list and simply forgotten about it.

Victorious, on the other hand, had been born a true carrier. More modern, more armored, more resilient. It had received constant updates, ensuring its longevity into the modern era. But now, all that mattered little. What truly made a difference was that Howe had managed to recover Glorious’s Wisdom Cube before total destruction.

Speaking of Howe…

The battleship was a wreck. Even from a distance, the damage was clear. Her main guns were jammed or destroyed, her secondary and anti-air batteries reduced to charred debris. Up close, the sight was even worse.

The escort cruisers weren’t in much better shape. Two had been severely damaged, unable to continue fighting. One had gone down with Glorious.

The torpedoes had done most of the damage, but the 15 cm guns of the Type 1936A Zerstörer had done their job with brutal efficiency.

— Who the hell thought putting twin 15 cm guns on destroyers was a good idea? — Victorious muttered to herself, gritting her teeth.

The attack had been devastating. A ruthless ambush—the kind that would’ve made even World War I veterans proud.

Now, all that was left was to move forward and seek repairs—a process that would surely be long, costly, and humiliating. The Royal Navy wouldn’t be pleased when they learned the extent of the damage.

— That was… a heavy blow… — Howe groaned over the radio, her voice full of pain and exhaustion.

Victorious took a deep breath, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in every fiber of her being.

— Yeah… but honestly, it’s not a surprise. — She tried to roll her shoulders, only to be hit by another wave of pain. — I’m surprised they didn’t take Spee, Prinz Heinrich, and Roon down with them…

— They’ll figure something out… especially after what happened here. — Howe’s sigh was heavy. — Thank the leaders of Azur Lane and the other nations, I suppose.

Victorious let out a dry laugh.

— This… is going to echo far and wide…

She could already imagine the headlines, the emergency meetings, the heated debates in the global media.

The Royal Navy’s pride had been wounded—and someone was going to pay for it.

— God have mercy on us… — she whispered.

But deep down, what echoed most in her mind was the colossal cost this disaster would have for the Royal Navy.

~•~

The newly-formed and reunited German fleet sailed across the sea, cutting through the waters beneath a sky gradually painted orange by the setting sun.

On the battleship's command bridge, Tirpitz stood alongside her officers and the four German kansens. With the same cold composure that made her feared on the battlefield, she recounted every detail of her escape and the story behind the base she now called home.

The officers already knew the tale, but for the kansens, it was a shocking revelation. Deutschland and Scharnhorst, meanwhile, took the opportunity to update Tirpitz and her officers on the current state of the world.

The impact was immediate.

The shock was evident on their faces. Disbelief. Anger. Contempt.

— It's… pitiful… — Tirpitz sighed, maintaining her calm and controlled tone.

The information brought by Deutschland and Scharnhorst was crucial. The sheer volume was so vast that Tirpitz would need to write it all down in a notebook—or perhaps ask the two to transcribe it themselves.

But among all the revelations, nothing disturbed her more than the condition of her homeland.

Germany… reduced to a third-rate nation.

The very thought stirred something deep within her. A storm of long-suppressed emotions began to rise.

Hatred.

Rage.  

Outrage.

The renaming to Eisenblut? A formality with no real meaning. But what they'd done to her homeland? That was unforgivable.

— This is… an outrage! — Lisa burst out, crossing her arms, her eyes burning with fury.

The Kriegsmarine, the Luftwaffe, and the Heer, all dissolved? The mere thought was absurd. Humiliating.

And the Sirens… There was something about that story that deeply unsettled her.

— I'm not surprised they managed to do this to Germany so easily… — Katharina muttered, disgust clear in her voice. Her fists clenched. — With punishments like that, it's no wonder the country was reduced to this… and that its leadership is so incompetent and disloyal.

The four kansens were still trying to process the fact that the officers now beside them had once been men who fought in the Second World War. Now, they were alive again—but in the bodies of young women.

The officers, for their part, spoke English with ease—a habit acquired after so many years studying in the old military academies that had once trained them. But if there was one thing they could not accept, it was that their homeland had been reduced to an inferior position by the great powers.

It was an affront.

A bitter insult, burning in their hearts like searing embers.

And it fueled a hatred that only grew stronger.

— I know how you feel, but calm yourselves. Acting like this won't get us anywhere. — Tirpitz sighed, turning her gaze to the vast sea ahead.

For a moment, silence fell over the bridge. Only the sound of the waves and the steady rhythm of the battleship filled the air.

Then, a faint smile curled on the albino’s lips.

— But this might give us… some opportunities… — She turned again, eyeing her officers and the kansens.

Carina, noticing that calculating gleam in Tirpitz’s eyes, narrowed her own.

— What are you thinking, mein Führer?

— I believe the time has come to launch our first offensive operations. — Tirpitz’s voice was soft, yet cold as ice. Her eyes returned to the horizon, her expression a mix of serenity and determination. — I have three targets in mind…

She already knew exactly where she would strike.

Three strategic objectives: two to be taken, and one to be crippled—to buy precious time for future movements. It was the perfect chance to demonstrate the power of her small fleet and prove to the world what they were capable of.

— And what are these targets? — Scharnhorst asked, her curiosity evident.

Tirpitz merely let out a low chuckle—soft, yet laced with malice.

— Three targets… three opportunities… — Her smile widened, predatory, revealing a hint of her teeth.

It was a smile that left no doubt: the offensive was about to begin.

Katharina, intrigued, crossed her arms.

— And do you already have a name for this operation?

Tirpitz placed her hands behind her back, maintaining her imposing posture.

— Operation Angriff und Freunde…

~•~

In the capital of the Kingdom of Guayubirá, Montevideo, a crowd gathered at the port docks. Shocked — and, in some cases, fascinated — eyes were fixed on the scene before them.

There lay the British ships, docked in critical condition. Some threatened to capsize at any moment, their hulls scraped and twisted, a testament to the brutality of the battle. Victorious and Newcastle drew particular attention — true floating carcasses, open wounds of steel and fire.

— My God… — Murmured a dockworker, stunned. — How did they end up like this?

— No idea! — Replied another, hurrying to his station as the commotion grew. — But the German ships aren’t with them this time!

As the dockworkers rushed to provide aid, the civilian population gathered. Some filmed and took photos, others just watched, frozen, trying to process the horror in front of them.

— God help us when the world media reacts… — Murmured Victorious, escorted by Uruguayan soldiers. She walked with difficulty, worn down both physically and mentally.

And she was not alone. All the British kansens were being assisted by local forces. Some limped. Others had empty, shocked eyes.

— This is going to turn into hell… — muttered Howe, trying to keep walking, but she was cut off.

An explosion.  

Then, another.

Both came from Victorious.

The first hit the machinery. The second struck the hangar — where leaking fuel had found the stacked aircraft.

Flames rose like infernal columns, and in the blink of an eye, chaos took over.

Sirens wailed. Screams tore through the air. Emergency teams ran in all directions.

The port plunged into pandemonium. Smoke spread, choking out order. Journalists and TV cameras arrived with terrifying speed, capturing every moment of the disaster.

It was the kind of tragedy the world wouldn’t forget anytime soon.

~•~

[Breaking news! Right now, in Montevideo, British kansens have just docked in the Kingdom of Guayubirá in critical condition! Reports state that the aircraft carrier Glorious and the cruiser Penelope sank in battle, as well as…]

The anchor’s voice echoed through the silent room, slicing through the elegant atmosphere like a blade.

Seated beneath the soft glow of a crystal chandelier, a woman of ethereal beauty stared at the television with wide eyes — blue like the sky before a storm, now filled with pure horror. Her trembling body betrayed the anguish consuming her from within.

— God… How could they return like this? What happened out there? — She whispered, as if afraid of the answer.

Her long white hair was tied back with a black ribbon in a low ponytail, swaying gently as she turned her head, trying to take in the images. Her dress — a pristine white adorned with frills and shades of violet — clashed with the expression of pure distress on her face. A purple diamond rested on her chest, reflecting the flickering light of the TV.

Elbow-length gloves, white thigh-high stockings, slender heels… none of it seemed to matter now. This was Illustrious, a vision of nobility and elegance — now stripped of her usual serenity.

She had sought a moment of peace in that luxurious room. What she found was a nightmare.

Unbeknownst to her, in the silent hallway that connected the lounge to the mansion’s west wing, a figure watched everything with a smile.

It was a woman with hair the color of ripe wheat, cascading in soft waves over her shoulders. Her golden eyes gleamed — not with compassion, but with a sweet, perverse malice barely contained.

Arms crossed, leaning casually against the wall like a living shadow, she let out a muffled giggle — the sound of someone who relishes in others’ suffering.

— Hehe~... The winds are changing, Illustrious… — She murmured, her lips curling into a crooked smile.

— And I can’t wait to see where they’ll take us…

With slow, almost floating steps, she vanished down the corridor — like a satisfied specter. The tension hung in the air, thick as smoke, leaving behind an unsettling sense, as if something waiting in the dark was about to unfold.

Illustrious still stared at the television, trying to process the news. But deep down, she already knew: this wasn’t the end.

It was only the first act.

~•~

With the sun dipping below the horizon and the sky painted in deep shades of red and purple, a heavy atmosphere hung over the Tirpitz naval base.  

The air felt suspended in time — every breeze carried the weight of something imminent.

At the center of this tension stood a single building: the monumental Gebäude des Militäroberkommandos der Wehrmacht — an imposing structure whose architecture evoked the glory of the old Reichstag of the German homeland. Within its walls, echoes of the past and visions of the future intertwined in silence.

At the heart of the building, a vast meeting hall stretched beneath a high ceiling adorned with imperial crests. Around a long table of dark oak, an unusual group had assembled.

On one side sat Deutschland and Scharnhorst, the veterans.

On the other, the newly reborn generals: Charlotte von Braunschweig, Friederike von Sachsen, Laura von Hohenlohe, Johanna von Schwarzwald, Helene von Falkenstein, Maria von Württemberg, and Elisabeth von der Taunus.

Together, they formed the newly created Deutsches Militäroberkommando — the DMK.

At the head of the table, seated in the central chair like an empress among warriors, was Tirpitz. Her gaze was sharp, fingers interlaced atop the table, and a faint smile played on her lips — not one of kindness, but of calculated coldness.

— With everyone here… — Her voice rang out, clear and firm, like the toll of a war bell — …it’s time we discuss in detail what we’ll do from now on.

The phrase, dry and simple, carried the weight of a declaration of war.

The generals exchanged silent glances. Expectation. Desire. A hunger for purpose. Since awakening in this new world, they had awaited this moment: the birth of something greater than any one of them — greater than pain, greater than the past.

Because what was about to unfold wasn’t just a military campaign.

It was the announcement of an empire’s return.

A thunder born from humiliation, from oblivion — and from the silent promise of vengeance.

And at the center of it all stood Tirpitz. Cold. Calculating.

She could feel the blood pulse with the same force as the sea currents that once carried her into battle.

Her destiny was no longer to defend.  

It was to claim.

‘May God have mercy on them… For I will have none.’

~•~

{Time: six twelve a.m.}

You: — Deutschland? What’s going on...?

You: — Deutschland??

Deutschland*: — Spee…

You: — Deutschland!! What happened? Where are you?

You: — What caused the Royal Navy ships to end up in critical condition? Are you unharmed?

Deutschland: — I’m fine… but I can’t speak about this through this channel. 

Deutschland: — *The situation is delicate, and I fear our communications are being monitored. I ask you, Spee, to call me.

[Call duration: forty-two minutes]  

You: — Understood…

[Last message received fourteen minutes ago.]

~•~

[Official Correspondence to the Admiral of the Southern Division of the Azur Lane Atlantic Command]

To Admiral Miller,

In light of your reckless actions concerning the unwarranted pursuit of Commander Tirpitz, this letter serves as official notification of your immediate removal from your current post, as well as your subsequent reassignment to a different designation outside the jurisdiction of this base.

The consequences of your decisions have led to significant misfortunes: the disappearance of four Ironblood fleet vessels in the Atlantic, and the arrival of four Royal Navy units to the Kingdom of Guayubirá in a state of severe damage, accompanied by heavy operational losses.

As a courtesy and administrative formality, you are granted a non-extendable period of three days to organize and remove your belongings.

{Sincerely,  

High Command of Azur Lane}

~•~

With a faint, enigmatic smile drawn delicately upon her lips, a white-haired woman calmly flipped through the recently intercepted letter with a near-ceremonial grace. Her eyes — clear and piercing — scanned each line as if she were drinking in not only the words, but the storm that stirred beneath the neatly composed sentences.

The study was cloaked in sepulchral silence, wrapped in a serene complicity, and the woman — with the lightness of a child up to mischief — explored that reliquary of secrets with an almost enchanting precision. There was something in her movements that felt theatrical, like a performance only she could understand.

With a soft chuckle, she returned the letter to its exact place, with the precision of someone who lives in shadows and knows how to leave no trace.

Now armed with dangerous knowledge, the woman was already plotting her next move. Her thoughts drifted toward Spee — loyal as steel and silent as the night — and to Roon, whose unsettling and magnetic presence pulled at her like a magnet. This revelation could not, must not, remain locked in the dark.

Gliding down the corridors like someone participating in an ancient, silent game, she moved with light steps, arousing no suspicion. She knew the value of the information she carried — and more than that, she understood the exact moment to use it.

Destiny was about to change hands.

And in the backstage of History, a forgotten piece was finally moving on the board…