The Tycoon's Odyssey

In the grand, ornately decorated office of the USL President, Malcolm sat behind a polished mahogany desk, his expression grim. His fingers tightened around a classified folder marked with bold red letters:

PRIORITY: OPERATION REQUIEM.

The tension in the room was palpable. His Chief of Staff stood nearby, silently observing Malcolm's reaction.

"Is this a joke?" Malcolm finally broke the silence, his voice sharp and low as he glanced at the document.

The Chief of Staff flinched slightly. "No, sir. This is a direct order from the Federation Command."

Malcolm shut the folder and leaned back, his jaw tightening. "Failing to apprehend Evan despite deploying our forces—our most advanced assets—was already humiliating. And now they expect us to escalate further by deploying a full payload over the Devil's Triangle?"

"Sir, the reasoning provided—"

Malcolm cut him off, his tone icy. "The reasoning is clear enough. Evan has grown into a global threat. If we fail to neutralize him now, he'll become unstoppable. This man… this rogue… he doesn't just want to escape. He wants to conquer. If he survives, there's no doubt in my mind that he'll turn this world into his kingdom."

"I know all that bullshit when the boy in talk didn't even want to escalate things but we are hell-bent on going after him and unsettling the world."

The chief of the staff swallowed his saliva after hearing this.

The President hesitated, rubbing his temples as the weight of the decision bore down on him. Finally, he sighed and nodded. "Authorize the strike. But mark my words—if this fails, the Federation Command will have to answer for it."

_____

In Daxia, Prime Minister Zhao Renshu stood in the towering halls of the Central Command Headquarters, surrounded by his military advisors and senior officials. His sharp eyes scanned the order, and his face twisted into a scowl.

"This Evan must be eliminated!" Zhao slammed his fist on the table, startling his staff. "He's too dangerous to be left alive. A single man has humiliated the combined might of the world's greatest powers. Do you understand how weak this makes us look?"

A general stepped forward cautiously. "Prime Minister, the Federation believes the Devil's Triangle operation is the best course of action."

"The Federation believes?" Zhao snapped, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "The Federation believed deploying atom bombs would stop him, and yet here we are. This Evan—he's an anomaly, a menace to global security. I don't care what it takes. Fire everything we have at that ship and make sure it burns."

Another advisor hesitated before speaking. "Sir, some believe capturing him could be more advantageous—his mind, his technology—"

"Fools!" Zhao snapped, his voice rising with anger. "If he's allowed to live, he'll only use that brilliance to enslave us all. He will not be an asset—but a liability. Kill him, no matter the cost. That's an order."

_____

In the USR, President Viktor Petrov sat in his dimly lit office with a glass of vodka in one hand and a cigarette in the other. The room was filled with a heavy silence as he studied the report detailing Evan's latest escape. Slowly, a cold smile crept across his face, followed by a deep, resonant chuckle.

"What a fascinating young man," Viktor mused aloud. His gaze then shifted to his Defense Minister, seated across the desk. "If we had someone like Evan in our ranks, I'd spare no effort in grooming him. The throne of this world would be his and USR would have ruled over the world."

The minister shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "But, Mr. President, Evan is no ally. He's an unstable element—a threat to global stability."

Viktor waved a hand dismissively, exhaling a plume of smoke. "Threats and opportunities are two sides of the same coin. If Indra were stronger, they could have kept this bird in its nest. But their weakness allowed him to spread his wings, and now… well, now we must clip them."

He took another slow sip of his drink, his tone growing colder. "It's a shame, really. Having such a man as an ally would be invaluable. But as an enemy? He's far too dangerous. Prepare our fleet to assist at the Devil's Triangle. I want this matter resolved quickly and efficiently. No mercy."

_____

Near the Devil's Triangle, a vast assembly of naval fleets from the world's most powerful nations had converged, forming an ominous armada. The surrounding waters were eerily still, shrouded in a dense, lingering fog that seemed to hang like a shroud over the horizon. The air was heavy with tension, the only sounds coming from the hum of engines and the occasional crackle of radios.

Onboard the USL Vanguard, Admiral Jonathan Reeves of the USL Navy stood at the command bridge, his eyes scanning the misty expanse through binoculars. "This place gives me the creeps," he muttered.

Beside him, Admiral Hiroshi Takamura of Daxia nodded grimly. "The Devil's Triangle has always been a place of mystery, but today, it's the stage for a global showdown."

Further along the deck, Admiral Sergei Ivanov of the USR watched his men prepare the missile launchers. "We need a coordinated strategy," he said in his thick accent. "If we all fire separately, we'll waste ammunition and give Evan's ship time to adapt."

Reeves turned toward him. "What do you suggest?"

"A sustained barrage," Ivanov replied firmly. "Continuous missile and artillery fire from all fleets until their shields collapse. He might have advanced technology, but nothing can sustain endless firepower."

Admiral Pierre Moreau of the European Union frowned. "That's assuming his shields are limited. What if they regenerate?"

Hiroshi interjected. "Then we find a weakness. His ship is massive—it must have blind spots—less protected areas. We target those."

As the admirals debated strategies, a sharp alarm pierced through the air and warning lights began to flash on the bridge.

"Incoming signal!" a radar operator called out. "Evan's ship is approaching!"

Admiral Reeves grabbed the microphone, his voice steady despite the growing tension. "All hands, battle stations! Prepare to engage!"

Through the fog, the faint silhouette of Evan's ship began to emerge, its glowing plasma thrusters slicing through the mist like a beacon. The atmosphere grew electric as the ship loomed closer, an imposing presence that sent shivers through even the most seasoned sailors.

Reeves tightened his grip on the microphone, his voice steady but firm. "Fire at will!"