On a random day, Crimson Hawk received a news at dawn.

The Hawk Nest was louder than usual that morning. Not with laughter or drinking, but with the sharp, restless energy that always preceded danger. Messengers moved quickly through the compound. Formation lights flared above the command hall. Renka had called an emergency assembly.

Vahn stood among the mercenaries as they gathered, his posture relaxed, his presence deliberately muted. He could already feel it. A disturbance in the flow of the Astralis Empire. Not large enough to shake worlds, but sharp enough to draw predators.

Renka stood at the head of the hall, both hands resting on the crystal table. The map above it shimmered, shifting rapidly between maritime routes, sect territories, and red warning sigils.

"This is not a routine contract," she said, her voice cutting through the noise. "This is a hunt."

The room quieted instantly.

Zutian leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowed. "Whose blood?"

Renka tapped the table. A projection expanded, showing a jade vault wreathed in Azure Dragon Sect formations.

"Three days ago, a demonic cultivator infiltrated an auxiliary treasury of the Azure Dragon Sect," she said. "He stole a sealed treasure and escaped before the elders could lock the domain."

A murmur spread through the mercenaries.

Azure Dragon Sect.

That name carried weight even in Border Seven. A top tier sect within Astralis. Backed by deep bloodlines and Imperial favor. Offending them was not just dangerous. It was suicidal.

"What treasure?" someone asked.

Renka's eyes darkened. "They are not telling. Which means it is valuable enough to destabilize a region if mishandled."

Zutian exhaled slowly. "And the reward?"

Renka raised two fingers.

"One hundred thousand immortal grade spirit stones," she said. "For capture. Alive or dead."

The hall erupted.

"That much?"

"That is Imperial-tier reward."

"Even core world mercenary legions will join."

Renka nodded. "They already have."

The projection shifted again. This time, an image of a vast ocean appeared. Dark. Endless. Storm clouds churned above it, pierced by faint astral lightning.

"Sitria Ocean," Renka said. "Our informants tracked the demonic cultivator boarding a vessel known as the Death Ship. It departed twelve hours ago, heading toward the eastern continent."

Vahn's eyes flickered faintly.

Sitria Ocean.

A lawless zone. A maritime graveyard where spatial currents twisted and ancient beasts slept beneath the waves. A perfect place to disappear.

Zutian frowned. "That ship is infamous. No registered crew. No port record. It appears only when blood follows."

Renka looked directly at the assembled mercenaries.

"Astralis has issued open pursuit rights," she said. "Any group may claim the reward. Crimson Hawk has been authorized to participate."

Her gaze shifted slightly and stopped on Vahn.

"You are coming."

Several heads turned.

A few mercenaries looked displeased.

"He is still new."

"This is not a training mission."

Zutian spoke before Renka could. "He has earned his place. He does not slow us down."

Renka studied Vahn briefly, then nodded once. "Prepare. We leave within the hour."

As the hall broke into motion, Vahn remained silent.

Inside, his thoughts were already moving far beyond the reward.

A demonic cultivator bold enough to steal from Azure Dragon Sect was either desperate, suicidal, or possessed of something far more dangerous than the sect admitted.

And a hundred thousand immortal stones was not payment.

It was bait.

---

The harbor of Border Seven was chaos incarnate.

Spirit ships of all sizes crowded the docks. Some sleek and sect-made, bristling with formations and sigils. Others crude and heavily armed, belonging to mercenary groups, pirate clans, and independent hunters.

Crimson Hawk's vessel, the Red Talon, cut through the crowd with practiced ease. Medium-sized. Fast. Reinforced hull etched with layered defensive arrays.

Vahn stood on deck as the ship departed, his cloak fluttering in the astral wind. Around him, Crimson Hawk mercenaries checked weapons and talismans.

He noticed the looks.

Some curious.

Some assessing.

Some openly hostile.

To them, he was an unknown variable. A newcomer who had risen too quickly. That alone bred resentment.

A tall mercenary with scarred cheeks approached, cracking his knuckles.

"Heard you are the new favorite," the man said. "Careful not to get in the way."

Vahn looked at him calmly. "I do not intend to."

The man snorted. "We will see."

Later, as the ship cut through astral currents above the ocean, tension sharpened further.

Other ships kept pace nearby. Flags of rival mercenary groups fluttered openly.

Black Tide Consortium.

Iron Fang Legion.

Skybreaker Hunters.

Dozens of groups, all chasing the same prize.

On the second night, the first incident occurred.

A Crimson Hawk mercenary named Parnis attempted to assert dominance.

He cornered Vahn near the cargo deck, his aura flaring aggressively.

"You think Renka's attention protects you?" Parnis sneered. "Out here, accidents happen."

Several others watched from a distance.

Vahn did not respond.

Parnis stepped closer and shoved him.

The next moment was quiet.

Too quiet.

Vahn moved.

His fist struck once.

No wasted motion.

Parnis flew backward, slamming into a steel pillar with bone-crushing force. The sound echoed across the deck. He collapsed, unconscious, blood trickling from his mouth.

Vahn lowered his hand.

His expression never changed.

Silence followed.

Then murmurs.

Some stared in shock.

Some laughed nervously.

Others narrowed their eyes, calculating.

Zutian arrived moments later, took one look at Parnis, then at Vahn.

"He started it," Zutian said flatly.

Renka nodded once. "Then he learned."

From that moment on, no one tried again.

But some watched with deeper interest.

And darker intent.

---

Three days later, they found the Death Ship.

It drifted ahead of them, silhouetted against a bruised violet horizon.

At first glance, it looked like a massive, ancient galleon. Its hull was blackened and jagged, as if grown rather than built. Tattered sails hung motionless despite the wind. No lights. No visible crew.

A sense of unease spread across every ship in pursuit.

"That thing gives me a bad feeling," someone muttered.

Renka's voice came through the formation talisman. "All units, approach with caution. Do not board unless ordered."

The Red Talon drew closer.

Vahn's Void Core stirred.

Something was wrong.

The ocean beneath the ship felt alive.

Suddenly, the Death Ship shuddered.

Its hull split.

Black flesh erupted outward.

"What the hell is that?" someone shouted.

The ship twisted violently. Wood and metal peeled away, revealing a colossal form beneath.

A massive dark octopus rose from the sea.

Its body was the ship.

Or the ship had always been part of it.

Tentacles thicker than towers lashed outward, crushing vessels instantly. One mercenary ship was seized, pulled screaming into the depths.

Chaos exploded.

"Attack!"

"Formations up!"

Spells lit the sky. Blades slashed. Cannons roared.

The beast did not slow.

Its eyes glowed crimson. Demonic runes pulsed across its slick flesh.

Atop its head, a lone figure stood.

The demonic cultivator.

He laughed wildly, his voice echoing unnaturally.

"Bastards, You chase me here for scraps!" he roared. "Now drown!"

Tentacles slammed into Crimson Hawk's formation.

The Red Talon rocked violently.

"Hold the line!" Zutian shouted.

They fought desperately.

But it was not enough.

The creature was too large. Too resilient. Each wound regenerated rapidly, fueled by corrupted abyssal energy.

One by one, ships were destroyed.

Screams echoed across the sea.

Despair crept in.

Zutian gritted his teeth. "We cannot win this head-on!"

Renka's voice was strained. "Prepare retreat!"

But the beast surged forward, cutting off escape.

A tentacle crashed down toward the Red Talon.

Time slowed.

And then Vahn stepped forward.

He walked to the front of the deck, ignoring the chaos, the screams, the collapsing ships.

Zutian turned sharply. "Vahn! Get back!"

Vahn raised his hand.

The Void stirred.

Not explosively.

Not dramatically.

But absolutely.

The air around him folded inward.

The ocean beneath trembled.

The massive tentacle froze mid-strike.

Every eye turned toward him.

"What is he doing?"

Vahn exhaled slowly.

His eyes were calm.

Cold.

Focused.

Snap!

The snap of Vahn's fingers was quiet.

So quiet that, for half a heartbeat, no one realized anything had happened.

Then the sky screamed. "Buzzz!"

Above the writhing mass of the transformed Death Ship, space itself collapsed inward. Light bent sharply, folding like silk dragged into a drain. A colossal sphere of absolute darkness bloomed into existence, suspended just above the gigantic octopus's crown.

It was not shadow.

It was nihility.

A true Void singularity.

The ocean beneath it churned violently as if gravity had suddenly remembered its true master. Waves rose unnaturally high, dragged upward instead of crashing outward. The clouds spiraled inward, stretched into long, thin threads that vanished into the black core.

The demonic octopus shrieked.

The sound was not carried by air alone. It pierced directly into the minds of everyone present, a psychic scream layered with rage, disbelief, and terror. Its countless eyes widened, each reflecting the same impossible sight.

Its tentacles thrashed wildly, smashing into nearby ships. One mercenary vessel was caught mid-turn and crushed like paper, its protective formations collapsing instantly. Cultivators were flung screaming into the sea.

But none of that mattered.

The black hole began to feed.

Not just flesh.

Essence.

Demonic qi, soul residue, bloodline power, karmic corruption. Everything that made the creature what it was began tearing free, ripped out strand by strand and devoured.

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