The pale blue ocean stretched endlessly, its surface shimring under the bright sunlight. Yet the serenity was deceptive. A colossal naval vessel carved through the restless waves, its powerful engines churning the water below with relentless power. Onboard, tension brewed among its passengers—a group whose fates had beco inseparably tied to one man: Evan.
Gathered on the deck, the group consisted of Evan's parents, Suri, Maria, Sam, Aria, Reynolds, Celina, and a brooding young girl leaning against the rail, lost in thought. Her once-youthful exuberance had given way to a mature, striking beauty, but her face bore a shadow of gloom.
It was Elina.
Evan's sharp eyes caught her lancholic figure as he approached Celina. "What's wrong with her?" he asked, looking toward Celina.
Celina gave a nonchalant shrug. "I don't know. She's been like this for hours. Quiet, moody—maybe it's her age."
Before Evan could respond, Suri interjected with a scoff. "What's with all this detective work? You're her brother. Go talk to her like one instead of standing here guessing!"
Evan scratched the back of his head, a rare sign of discomfort, and coughed awkwardly. "Fine, fine. I'll try."
He walked over to Elina, standing beside her at the rail. The salty breeze tousled their hair and the sound of the waves filled the silence.
"The ocean looks beautiful today, doesn't it?" Evan began.
"Hm," Elina muttered, her gaze fixed on the water.
"Look! There are dolphins jumping ahead. And those birds flying alongside us are quite a sight, isn't it?"
"Hm," she repeated, her tone flat.
Evan frowned, frustration creeping into his tone. "What's with you? Did you confess to soone and get rejected or sothing?"
Elina stiffened and turned to glare at him. "What did you just say?"
"If that's the problem," Evan added hastily, "then don't worry. You're too beau—" His words faltered as a shiver ran down his spine. Elina's deadly glare froze him in place.
Before he could react, she pounced, throwing her tiny but furious fists at him. "It's all your fault! You ruined everything! Now I can't beco an administrative officer!"
"Wha—"
"I studied for years! YEARS! And now I'm fleeing before I could even take my exams!"
Evan swallowed hard, feeling the weight of her punches—though they were more dramatic than painful. "Okay, okay! Stop hitting ! Don't worry, I'll fix this. I'll make you the President of Indra, I swear!"
Elina paused, looking at him skeptically. "President?"
Before she could respond, Celina stord over, fuming. "President of Indra? Seriously, Brother have you gone insane?" She stomped on his foot with all her might.
Evan yelped in pain. "What was that for?"
"I don't need your help to reach that level," Elina snapped, crossing her arms. "I'll get there on my own—without shortcuts or favors from you." She turned on her heel, muttering to herself as she walked away.
Evan sighed, shaking his head. "What a temper."
But before he could dwell on the mont, a cold voice broke into his thoughts.
Aurora voiced her thoughts.
[Sir, a hostile naval fleet is encroaching on our position. They've ford a barricade to prevent us from entering the Bermuda region. Two fighter jets have locked onto us. Estimated arrival in 50 seconds.]
Evan's expression turned serious, his icy deanor returning in full force. The others froze, watching him closely.
Elina, who had been about to leave, stopped in her tracks, her earlier anger replaced with worry. "Brother Evan, are you angry?"
Evan managed a small smile and shook his head. "Not at all." His voice was calm, but his eyes glead with determination. "It's just so people chasing after us. Nothing new. Elina, go tell everyone to head to the basent. Things might get… intense."
Elina nodded hesitantly, sensing the shift in his tone. Without another word, she ran off to relay his ssage.
As the seconds ticked away, Evan turned his gaze toward the horizon, where the silhouettes of the approaching jets began to take form. His hands rested casually in his pockets, but his mind worked with razor-sharp focus.
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"Let's see how far they're willing to go," he murmured, his cold blue eyes fixed on the skies.
_____
Beyond their vessel, the vast expanse of the ocean was deceptively serene, its blue waves glittering under the morning sun. However, beneath this calm surface, tension simred. A formidable naval fleet, composed of warships and carriers from nations across the globe, had taken strategic positions, forming an ironclad blockade.
Each country had dispatched its best to the mission—USL's aircraft carriers and destroyers bristling with cutting-edge weaponry, Daxia's formidable stealth frigates and lurking submarines, USR's heavily armored cruisers, and fleets from Arcania, Rhodira, and Helion adding their firepower to the assembly.
This was no re pursuit; it was a demonstration of global coalition in hunting down one man.
The naval blockade was ticulously planned. The ships ford a crescent near the Bermuda region, leaving no gaps in their coverage. Reinforcent lines were set up further back, ensuring that every escape route was sealed. Overhead, fighter jets circled, their sleek fras glinting like predatory birds waiting to swoop in for the kill. Satellites provided real-ti data to every vessel, tracking the movents of the lone ship they had been tasked to neutralize.
Inside the command center of the leading USL destroyer, Admiral Richard Hawthorne stood at the helm, his sharp eyes fixed on the holographic map projected before him. Evan's fleet was marked as a single glowing red dot that was slowly but steadily approaching the blockade. Surrounding it, their fleet ford an almost perfect net, leaving Evan with only two choices: retreat into the open ocean or charge directly into their trap.
"Admiral," a young officer called out, snapping to attention. "Enemy fleet confird. The primary vessel matches the specifications we've been tracking. Fighter jets are closing in for visual confirmation."
Richard nodded, his gaze unwavering. "And their options?"
"Minimal, sir. If they retreat, we'll drive them west where our secondary units from Arcania and Rhodira are waiting. If they move east or south, Helion's strike group will intercept."
The Admiral's lips curved into a grim smirk. "Perfect. It's a noose they can't escape."
The air in the command center was thick with tension as the first fighter jets closed in on Evan's vessel. On the monitors, the silhouette of the ship beca clearer, sleek, dark, and unlike anything they had seen before.
"Visual feed established," another officer reported.
The Admiral leaned closer, scrutinizing the vessel. "Zoom in."
The image of Evan's ship filled the screen, revealing its design—uncanny, futuristic, and bristling with an array of unknown technologies. The officers around Richard exchanged uneasy glances.
"What kind of ship is that?" soone whispered.
Richard ignored the murmurs. "Status of our weapons?"
"All systems are green. We're locked and ready to fire on your command," the weapons officer confird.
"Good. Hold fire until the jets confirm that they have a clean shot."
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