The ship swayed gently under a gray sky, waves rolling endlessly in every direction.
Inside the vessel's command deck, silence reigned.
Rayyan stood at the center, surrounded by Malik, Amir, Jabir, and Baba.
Screens around them showed images from across the world—people laughing, celebrating, living.
He stared at them, unblinking. "They know who saved them," he said finally, his voice low and sharp. "And not one of them has asked… where he is."
Malik clenched his fists, Amir looked down, and Baba's face was tight, unreadable.
Without another word, Rayyan stepped forward, activated the encrypted world leader channel, and began a broadcast that could not be ignored.
Across every government war room, palace office, and defense command center, screens lit up.
World leaders turned toward the feed—and there stood Rayyan.
He was calm, controlled, but his voice cut like a blade. "You all returned to life because of one man. You remember vanishing. You remember waking. And you remember the video you all saw—of Mirshad fighting a nightmare to bring you back. But what you don't remember… is asking about him. Not a single one of you asked where he was. Not one message. Not one moment of silence."
He stepped closer to the camera, his eyes cold. "So now, I'm not requesting. I'm commanding. Mobilize every naval fleet, every submarine, every underwater drone, every deep-sea probe you own. No matter the cost. No matter how long. Search every ocean. Every trench. Every unknown depth. Because the man who gave you your world back… is still out there. And you owe him everything."
The broadcast was leaked within minutes.
Screens in cafes, homes, airports, and city centers all showed the speech.
People paused. Then gasped. Then cried. #FindMRD began to trend in every language.
Children lit candles.
Old men and women knelt in prayer.
Strangers gathered near shores, holding hands, staring at the sea. "He saved us all. And we forgot him." "Not anymore."
Across the globe, ships launched—from Arctic icebreakers to Indian Ocean patrol fleets, from Pacific exploration submarines to Atlantic naval destroyers.
Science teams, civilian divers, underwater tech firms—billions in funding poured into one purpose: find MRD. Even children donated their savings. Artists painted murals of Mirshad on harbor walls. Songs were written. People whispered his name before bed.
As the sun began to set, the brothers stood on the deck.
In the far distance, dozens of ships moved across the horizon.
The sea was alive with searchlights, scanning equipment, drone drops, and sonar sweeps.
Rayyan didn't smile. He just watched. Malik stood beside him. "We once started a war together," he said quietly. Rayyan nodded. "Now we've started something greater." He looked into the sea, whispering, "You stood for them. Always. Now… they finally stand for you."