The USS Theodore Roosevelt, a Nimitz-class aircraft carrier, loomed over the turbulent waters of the South Atlantic as its crew scrambled into action. Reports had already been sent to Washington, London, and other major capitals—the elves had broken through the Antarctic naval blockade with sheer speed, and now, the chase was on.

David stood on the deck of the USS Winston S. Churchill, a guided missile destroyer, gripping the cold metal railing as he listened to the latest updates over the radio. His face was tense, unreadable.

"Multiple fighter jets are in pursuit of unidentified hostiles heading towards South Georgia Islands."

"Naval command orders all blockade ships to maintain positions. No pursuit authorization at this time."

David clenched his jaw. Orders. Always orders. His daughter was in enemy hands, and he was stuck here, obeying commands from higher-ups who knew nothing of the pain clawing at his chest. But even if he wanted to disobey, he couldn’t. South Georgia was too far for ships to catch up, and breaking formation would risk the integrity of the blockade.

Then there was Solomon Kane, standing beside him, arms crossed, eerily calm.

“Let me go,” Solomon said.

David turned to face him. “And how exactly do you plan to do that?”

Solomon smirked. “You and I both know that if your daughter is alive, she’s being taken for a reason. The elves don’t take prisoners randomly. That means she’s either valuable or they think she is. Either way, I’m getting her back.”

David hesitated, his duty clashing with his instincts as a father.

Solomon continued. “You can’t move without orders, but I can.”

A long silence followed. Then David sighed. “I can’t officially authorize anything,” he said, his voice low. “But… I might be able to get you out of here.”

Solomon nodded. That was all he needed to hear.

---

The Sad Reunion

Before Solomon left, David took him to a secure communication room aboard the USS Winston S. Churchill. A single screen glowed in the dimly lit room, waiting to establish a connection.

David exhaled sharply before initiating the call. The screen flickered, and within seconds, his wife’s face appeared—a woman with sharp yet tired features, her auburn hair pulled into a loose ponytail.

But the moment she saw Solomon, her expression froze.

A complicated mix of emotions flickered across her face—shock, relief, anger, and something else—something unspoken, buried beneath years of separation.

“Solomon…” she breathed, almost as if she couldn’t believe he was real.

Solomon, however, remained composed. “You don’t need to thank me,” he said evenly. “Jamie still needs saving.”

David’s wife swallowed, her voice unsteady. “Saving? But wasn't she saved? David what in God's name is going on here, Atleast tell me, my baby is still alive ”

David stepped in. “Yes. The elves took her. We don’t know why, but we have a team going in to bring her back. Solomon is leading the ground mission.”

A brief silence filled the space. Then, her hands clenched into fists.

“Damn it, David! You said the blockade would keep them contained! How the hell did they take my daughter?!”

David rubbed his forehead, frustration evident in his eyes. “I know, alright?! We underestimated them. But screaming at me won’t change what’s happened.”

She took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down, though her eyes never left Solomon. “You… you promise you’ll bring her back?”

Solomon met her gaze. There was no hesitation in his answer.

“I will.”

For a moment, she said nothing. Then, slowly, she nodded.

David sighed. “I’ll keep you updated. Stay safe.”

With that, he ended the call. The screen went black, leaving only David’s reflection staring back at him. His face was unreadable, but as he turned to Solomon, his expression hardened.

“You’d better keep that promise.”

Solomon adjusted the strap of his gear and gave a small, knowing smirk. “You know I will.”

---

The Drop

Within an hour, David had pulled every string he could. Officially, Solomon Kane had been transferred off the USS Winston S. Churchill. Unofficially, he had been given a new identity as a private mercenary contracted by the U.S. Navy.

With a falsified ID and paperwork, Solomon boarded a small transport plane bound for Presidente Carlos Ibáñez del Campo International Airport in Chile. From there, the plan was simple—he would join a coalition of elite troops who were being assembled for a high-risk mission: an airborne insertion onto South Georgia Island.

The world’s governments weren’t taking chances. If the elves had taken Jamie, David’s daughter, then she was valuable. More valuable than they had initially thought.

As the plane roared over the South Atlantic, Solomon settled into his seat, checking his equipment. His gear was standard for a high-altitude drop—parachute, tactical rifle, sidearm, and enough ammunition for a sustained firefight.

The mercenaries and special forces soldiers around him were a mix of British Royal Marines, U.S. Navy SEALs, and private contractors. The tension in the air was thick. Some were here for duty, some for money, and others… for revenge.

Then, a familiar voice cut through the tense atmosphere.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the legendary Solomon Kane.”

Solomon turned his head and smirked. Captain Michael 'Mike' Hensley, a Royal Marines officer and an old friend, sat a few seats away.

“Mike,” Solomon said. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Yeah, well, when your bosses hear that aliens are kidnapping people, they tend to send in the best,” Mike said, strapping in. “And what about you? I thought you retired from all this madness.”

Solomon shrugged. “Let’s just say I had a change of plans.”

Mike narrowed his eyes. “This isn’t just another job for you, is it?”

Solomon didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.

Mike sighed, shaking his head. “Still the same reckless bastard, I see.”

A voice crackled through the radio.

"Approaching drop zone. All units prepare for deployment."

Solomon tightened the straps of his gear as the rear ramp of the aircraft opened. Below them, the icy landscape of South Georgia Island stretched out, dotted with mountains and jagged coastlines. The North Sea Task Force had already positioned ships around the island, and aerial reconnaissance had detected strange magical energy signatures near the old Grytviken whaling station.

That was their target.

The green light flashed.

"GO! GO! GO!"

Solomon and the others jumped.

The cold air hit him like a hammer as he plummeted toward the island below, the world blurring around him.

The hunt had begun.