[ 19 JUNE 2028, SEMBERGO OCEAN, AVENTIC ]
The water was calm.
Too calm.
Namaska stood at the edge of the deck, watching the horizon.
Endless blue meeting endless blue.
There was no birds,no clouds. Just...nothing.
He's been doing this for over twenty years. Standing on decks. Watching the horizons. Waiting for something to appear that would try to kill him and everyone he commanded.
It's more than twenty years , he watched men die. Infront of him or for him .
He wrote many letters to families that started with "It is with deepest
regret" and ended with words that never meant enough.
But....
This felt different.
This felt like the last page of a book that he hadn't finished reading.
Three hundred and fifty kilometers away, something is waiting. No it's not waiting it's coming towards the surface. Something they'd named The Mundene Creature.
A name that meant nothing. A name
they'd invented because not naming it felt worse. Like admitting they didn't understand what they were sailing toward. Like admitting they were afraid of something they couldn't comprehend.
The briefing had been simple, "Go. Fight. Die if you have to. Slow it down."
That was the official order. Straight from the top. From people who would never see this ocean, never feel this dread, never have to look into the eyes of soldiers who trusted them and tell them to march toward death.
The unofficial order—the one in his chest, the one he hadn't spoken aloud to anyone —was different.
Survive. Come back. See your son again.
But Nams wasn't here.
He was somewhere else.
" Safe "
That word felt foreign in his mouth. Foreign and wrong and necessary all at once.
He thought about the last time he'd seen his son. The transfer papers. The argument. The way Nams had looked at him like he was betraying something fundamental between them .
" One day you'll understand."
" One day you'll thank me."
" One day you'll live the life your mother wanted for you. "
He hoped those days would come. He might not be there to see them. But he hoped.
"Listen, team."
His voice echoed through the ship's speakers. Calm. Measured. As always .
The voice of a man who'd learned long ago that panic was contagious and he couldn't
afford to catch it. Not when so many depended on him staying steady.
"Once we're within three hundred kilometers of that creature, we'll lose all communication. No satellites. No radio. No backup. No way to call for help if things go wrong."
He paused.
He let it sink in.
He let them feel the weight of those words.
"So, team... brace yourselves."
Another pause.
Longer this time.
"For the Last Dance."
He turned off the mic.
Sat in the silence of the announcement room for a moment. Just breathing. Just existing.
The room was small—barely enough space for the equipment and a single chair. But it was quiet. Private. The only place on the ship where he could let the mask slip for a moment.
"All this for the world, huh?"
His own voice sounded strange in the empty space.
"What a pitiful thing."
He stood up and walked out.
The corridor was empty.
Most of the crew were above the deck, preparing, checking equipment, doing the thousand small tasks that kept soldiers from thinking too hard about what came next.
Busy hands meant quiet minds. He knew that trick. He had used it himself way more times than he could count.
Namaska walked slow.
Not tired. Just... savoring. Each step. Each breath. Each second of not-yet-fighting.
The metal floor beneath his boots. The faint vibration of the engines. The distant sounds of men and women preparing to die for a world that would never know their names.
Even if we can't stop the Leviathan.
He will live.
That thought was enough for him. It's had to be enough.
"Captain."
A voice behind him. Young. Urgent.
He turned.
James. One of the main soldiers.
Twenty-three years old. Good kid. Too young to be here, but then again, weren't they all?
James had joined RAW three years ago, fresh out of training, eager to prove something to himself.
Now he stood on a ship sailing toward the unavoidable night which will close all, and he was asking about—
"Captain, where's Nams?"
Namaska studied him for a moment. The question wasn't tactical. It was personal.
James had trained with Nams. Eaten with him. Fought beside him.
They'd been through six missions together before the Ushikawara operation. James had been there when Nams got promoted to captain for the first time.
He had clapped for him on the back and told him he deserved it.
"Nams?"
He let the name hang.
"Nams is somewhere beyond. Somewhere no normal human can reach. Not even these So called Duman."
James's brow furrowed. Confusion and worry mixing in his young face.
"What do you mean, beyond? Like... another country? Or another continent?"
"Something like that."
"That doesn't sound like something I should be confused about, Captain."
Namaska almost smiled. Almost.
"No. You probably shouldn't be."
" Don't tell me , that he's in Ilsa "
He didn't want to say it. Didn't want to admit that his son was in a place he himself could never go.
A place reserved for souls too precious to lose. A place where the world's horrors couldn't reach.
But James deserved the truth. They all did.
"Yes."
Soft. Quiet. Barely above a whisper.
"He's in Ilsa. A place where every Aventic soul only dreams of go—."
He looked at the endless ocean. At the gray horizon that stretched endlessly in every direction.
"—Including me."
The sky was clear.
And that was the cruelest part.
No storm. No warning. Just perfect, peaceful, like the world had no idea what was coming.
Like it was going about its business, unconcerned with the lives about to be spent in its defense.
Ships surrounded them—dozens of them, carrying RAW's finest. Soldiers who'd volunteered because someone had to.
Because if they didn't go...who
would?
Because the creature will reach the mainland eventually.
And it's better to fight it here, in the middle of nowhere, than watch it destroy cities full of people who had no idea it existed.
Namaska watched them for a moment. The way the sunlight caught their decks.
The way they moved in formation, small against the vastness of the ocean.
Tiny specks of human courage on an endless expanse of indifferent water.
All these lives.
For one creature.
He wondered how many would survive. How many would see another sunrise. How many would return to families who were waiting, hoping, praying.
The math was simple. He'd done it a hundred times.
None.
None of them would survive including himself.
Before the silence could settle, he heard some running footsteps.
A soldier burst from the cabin—young, pale, eyes wide with panic. His name was Derrick.
He is Twenty-one years old. Assigned to monitoring the onboard detention systems.
A job no one wanted because it meant sitting in a small room watching screens for hours, but someone had to do it.
Now he looks like he'd seen something that would haunt him forever.
"Captain! Captain!"
Namaska turned slowly. Already knew what was coming. Had known since they'd pulled that thing from the ruins of the research facility seventeen years ago.
"He... he vanished! He broke out!"
"Who?"
His voice was soft. Too soft for the words being spoken. Too calm for the chaos that was about to follow.
"S...S...Subject Zero One! He shattered his cell! Killed all the Dumans in the facility! Forty-seven of them! Just tore them apart like they were some normal pages! Then he
just... vanished! Right through the wall! Through SOLID STEEL!"
Namaska said nothing.
Just looked at the ocean.
" So he's outside his cell now "
Of course.
Of course he is.
He'd always known this day would come. Had told the higher-ups when they'd brought the creature in.
"You can't contain something like that forever. Eventually, it will leave. And when it does, there won't be anything any of us can do to stop it."
They'd listened. Nodded. Agreed.
And then they'd done nothing.
Because what could anyone do?
"James. Derrick."
He didn't turn to look at them.
"Talk to anyone you want. Before we cross the line."
Then he walked back toward the announcement room.
The mic felt cold in his hand.
He stood in the small room, alone, and looked at the rows of buttons and switches that controlled communications to every ship in the fleet.
Dozens of vessels. Hundreds of soldiers. All waiting for him to tell them what came next.
He took a deep breath. Let it out slow.
"Team."
His voice echoed through every ship. Every speaker. Every ear. Hundreds of faces turning toward speakers, waiting to hear what their captain had to say.
"A creature from another world has broken out of his cell. He's not like the Dumans you've fought before. He's stronger. Faster. Smarter. If he decides to engage us, none of us will survive."
He paused.
"But we don't need to worry about that right now. Because in front of us—that giant creature—will be here any moment. And we're about to enter its range. Focus on what's ahead. Focus on what we came here to do. One crisis at a time."
" Talk with. Your friends. Family. Loved once or anyone you want too . Because after a few moment . We are going to enter the domain of this creature. "
He off the mic.
" You will come , right? "
Eventually the lights flickered.
Then died.
All of them. Every screen. Every speaker. Every device that relied on power.
The ship went dark for three heartbeats—long enough for panic to start rising in chests, for hands to reach for weapons that wouldn't help.
Then emergency systems kicked in. Dim red lights. Backup comms.
But the main systems were gone.
The satellites went dark.
Communication was dead.
The air changed.
Thick. Heavy. Hard to breathe. Like swimming through syrup. Like the atmosphere itself had turned against them.
A moment ago, the sky was clear. Blue and peaceful and normal.
Now—black clouds, rolling in from nowhere, covering everything. They moved too fast to be natural. Boiled across the sky like something was chasing them. Like the sky itself was trying to escape.
The smell hit next.
Rot. Decay. Something ancient and wrong.
The smell of things that should never have been dug up. Of graves disturbed. Of horrors given form.
Namaska quickly turned on the mic .
"Wear your masks! Now!"
His voice cut through the chaos. Loud. Commanding.
The voice that had led men through worse situations than this—though right now, he
couldn't remember when.
"Wear your life jackets! NOW!"
Soldiers scrambled. Pulled on suits made of Niclomantius.
Masks covered faces.
Life jackets secured.
Everyone was shaking.
Trembling.
Breaths coming harder than they should.
Namaska stood still.
Calm.
Like he'd known this would happen.
Because he had.
The sea turned violent.
Waves crashing from nowhere, hitting ships from all sides. Men and women stumbled, fell, some held onto rails.
The suits absorbed most of the impact—Niclomantius doing its job, soaking up force that would have shattered bones—but standing was nearly impossible.
One wave hit the port side, and a soldier flew across the deck, slamming into the far railing. He was up again in seconds, gasping, but alive. The suit had saved him.
Another wave.
Another soldier thrown.
Another survival.
The Niclomantius worked.
But for how long?
How much could it take before even that otherworldly material failed?
Namaska's ship held steady.
He didn't know why.
The waves hit it just as hard. The wind screamed just as loud. But his ship stayed upright, stable, almost serene in the chaos.
Another mystery to add to the pile.
Slowly all the ships started to came steady .
"The Last Dance begins, huh?"
A voice behind him.
He turned.
Marcus.
Standing there like he hadn't just been in a jungle three weeks ago, fighting a Demon class. Like he hadn't almost died. Like his team hadn't been slaughtered.
"Indeed it does," Namaska replied.
"Hey, Marcus."
He paused. Chose his next words carefully.
"Do you know what happened to Nams's 87th mission?"
Marcus's expression didn't change. That same easy smile. That same casual confidence.
"I know you said you don't remember. Is that true?"
"Captain."
Marcus's voice was steady. Too steady.
"You think I'd lie to you? No one in RAW dares lie to your face. Or even behind your back."
"No one, huh?"
Namaska looked at him. Really looked. Studied the way he stood. The way he breathed. The way his eyes didn't quite meet Namaska's for as long as they should have.
"You're almost right. But not quite."
A pause.
"There's still one person who can lie to me. And I can't even catch them."
"Who?"
"That person is beyond my reach in every way. I trained her myself. And she's still top one in RAW. Maybe beyond it."
"Lara? Your wife?"
Namaska almost smiled.
"Obviously no , She's top two."
He turned back to the ocean.
"And I didn't train my wife."
The days blurred slowly. Way too slow . Way too smooth. Way too quiet .
No sun. No moon. No watches that worked.
Just endless grey sky and endless dark water.
The kind of timeless void that made men question whether they were still alive or had already died without noticing.
They floated.
Waited.
Talked when there was nothing else to do.
James joined them sometimes.
A young soldier with a family back home—parents who worried, siblings who didn't understand why he did what he
did, a wife who'd cried when he told her he was shipping out.
"Greetings, Captain," he said one day, sliding onto a bench across from them.
"Oi, what about me?" Marcus grinned.
"Can't ignore your strong, reliable, good, handsome, charming senior."
James blinked. "I did greet the STRONG, RELIABLE, GOOD, HANDSOME, CHARMING SENIOR."
"Wait, I didn't hear that."
"I said 'Greetings, Captain'."
Marcus's face fell.
James's lips twitched.
Namaska chuckled.
"Enough, James. Leave the innocent one alone."
"Boss, you too?"
They talked.
About nothing. About everything. About family and fear and why they kept fighting when fighting meant dying.
About the small things that made life
worth living—the taste of good food, the sound of laughter, the feeling of sun on skin after too long indoors.
James's voice softened when he spoke of home.
"As always, they're scared. They think I might die in some mission." He shrugged.
"But who cares? When you can save your family..."
A pause. Longer than the others.
"I told them not to worry. I'll come back no matter what."
Namaska nodded.
"Hope that's how it goes, James."
He looked at the endless gray sky.
"Hope that's how it goes for all of us."
The days kept passing.
There was no sunrise or sunset.
Just... endlessly floating over a endless ocean.
Aventic had ten great oceans.
Sembergo was the largest.
According to researchers, its depth was incalculable—like something else Namaska knew but couldn't speak about.
Something that had consumed more than ships before and would consume something more,again .
He didn't know how long they sailed.
Like time had stopped . Like there's no meanings of or anything.
Then, finally—
A shape on the horizon.
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