The Tycoon's Odyssey

The pale blue ocean stretched endlessly, its surface shimmering 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 become 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 melancholic 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 someone and get rejected or something?"

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 become 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 me! 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 stormed 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 moment, a cold voice broke into his thoughts.

Aurora voiced her thoughts.

[Sir, a hostile naval fleet is encroaching on our position. They've formed 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 demeanor 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 gleamed with determination. "It's just some people chasing after us. Nothing new. Elina, go tell everyone to head to the basement. Things might get… intense."

Elina nodded hesitantly, sensing the shift in his tone. Without another word, she ran off to relay his message.

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.
Discover more stories at My Virtual Library Empire

"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 simmered. 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 mere pursuit; it was a demonstration of global coalition in hunting down one man.

The naval blockade was meticulously planned. The ships formed a crescent near the Bermuda region, leaving no gaps in their coverage. Reinforcement lines were set up further back, ensuring that every escape route was sealed. Overhead, fighter jets circled, their sleek frames glinting like predatory birds waiting to swoop in for the kill. Satellites provided real-time data to every vessel, tracking the movements 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 formed 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 confirmed. 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 became 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?" someone 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 confirmed.

"Good. Hold fire until the jets confirm that they have a clean shot."