CHAPTER 51: CHAPTER 51: CONVERGENCE POINT

Offshore Vessel - 5:31 PM

The heavy cargo bay door was steel and it was locked

Yoo pressed his ear against it and heard nothing, either empty or everyone inside was dead silent.

"Can you open it?" he whispered.

Ji-yeon touched the electronic panel. Her fingers went dark—not black, just... less real. Like she was pulling color from reality itself.

The panel fizzled —died.

The door’s magnetic seal released with a soft clunk.

They pushed through.

Inside: crates. Dozens of crates were stacked, the floor was wet—seawater sloshing through drainage grates.

And on the far wall: lifeboats. Three of them, yellow fiberglass, secured by mechanical releases.

"There." Yoo pointed.

They moved fast, footsteps light, the boat rocked beneath them—not dangerous swells, just slow and steady movement of the ocean.

Ji-yeon reached the first lifeboat. Started working on the release mechanism. "It’s manual. Needs a key or—"

Glass shattered somewhere above. Shouts.

"They know we’re gone," Yoo said.

"I need thirty seconds."

"We don’t have thirty seconds."

The cargo bay door opened. Three crew members, armed with riflles.

"DON’T MOVE!"

Yoo grabbed Ji-yeon and dove behind a crate. Bullets cracked into metal. Ping-ping-ping. Sparks flew.

"CEASE FIRE!" A new voice. Familiar.

Director Kwan stepped through the door. Calm. Like this was a minor inconvenience.

"Subject 47. Subject 31. Impressive escape attempt. But pointless." He gestured and the shooting stopped. "You’re forty kilometers from shore. The ocean temperature is fourteen degrees Celsius. Even if you reach a lifeboat, you’ll die of exposure before rescue arrives."

Yoo stayed behind the crate. His mind raced.

Akasha Archive, probability of successful escape via lifeboat.

"Ocean temperature: 14°C. Time to hypothermia: 45-90 minutes. Distance to shore: 42 kilometers. Lifeboat maximum speed: 8 kilometers per hour. Required time: 5.25 hours. Probability of survival: 0.3%."

Point-three percent.

Worse than before.

"Come out," Kwan said. "Let’s discuss this reasonably."

"You’re planning to murder us," Yoo called back. "What’s reasonable about that?"

"I’m planning to advance humanity’s understanding of dimensional mechanics. Your deaths serve a greater purpose."

"Easy to say when it’s not your death."

"True, but not important " Kwan’s footsteps approached. "You’re children, brilliant ones at that, but children nonetheless. You lack perspective. In fifty years, when dimensional travel is commonplace, when humanity has access to Primordial knowledge, your sacrifice will be remembered as the catalyst. Statues. Memorials, in your name. "

Yoo looked at Ji-yeon. She was focused on the darkness in the corner. Pulling shadows toward her. Building something.

"What are you doing?" he whispered.

"Shadow Gate, I’m trying to open this emergency gate to get us out of here." Her voice was strained. "Keep him talking."

Yoo turned back to Kwan. "The ritual opens a rift. What comes through?"

"Primordials. Beings of incomprehensible power who—"

"That’s the story. What’s the truth?" Yoo made his voice loud. Clear. "Why did Dr. Chen say ’the Serpent is already here’?"

Silence.

Long. Heavy.

Then Kwan laughed, clearly amused.

"Ah. Someone talked before they died. I wondered." His footsteps stopped. "You’re right, the Serpent is indeed here, matter of fact it has been for centuries, sleeping, your misconception is that the ritual summons it, the ritual doesn’t summon it, the ritual feeds it, the deaths are just keys that releases all that Primodial energy."

"Feeds it to do what?"

"for a complete awakening." Kwan’s tone shifted, visibly excited. "Right now, the Serpent exists between dimensions. Partially here. Partially elsewhere. Trapped by cosmic laws it can’t break. But seven seed recipients dying during convergence? That much power bleeds through barriers. Gives it something similar to coordinates or should I say anchor points and lets it manifest completely."

Yoo’s blood went cold. "You’re trying to awaken a Primordial entity in our world."

"Not trying, it’s already happening face the reality." Kwan stepped around the crate—

Ji-yeon’s shadows erupted.

A wave of darkness, not visible darkness, conceptual absence. It hit Kwan like water.

He staggered. "What—"

"GO!" Ji-yeon screamed.

Yoo grabbed her hand. They didn’t run towards the lifeboats they ran towards the cargo bay far exit, the one that led deeper into the ship.

Behind them, Kwan recovered. "STOP THEM!"

Bullets cracked again. One grazed Yoo’s shoulder, after the blood came the pain.

They burst through the exit door into another corridor. This one sloped downward. Toward the hull. Toward—

Water.

The lower deck was flooding. Ankle-deep, cold water seeping through somewhere.

"Did you damage the hull?" Ji-yeon gasped.

"No. But the generator emergency might have ruptured something." Yoo splashed through water. Looking for—there, a ladder, leading up.

They climbed.

Behind them, shouts, flashlights, the crew was close.

The ladder led to an upper deck, narrower corridors, crew quarters, storage, and—

A window, overlooking the deck, and through it

Yoo looked out.

The sun was setting. Orange and red painted the ocean, and in the distance—lights. A city, far away, but still visible.

Seoul.

"We’re closer to shore than Kwan said," Yoo whispered.

"How close?"

Akasha Archive, calculate distance based on visible light intensity.

"Analyzing... estimated distance: 28 kilometers. Not 42."

"Twenty-eight kilometers."

"Still too far to swim."

"Not if we’re not swimming the whole way." Yoo pointed down at the inflatable emergency rafts, secured to the railing.

Smaller than lifeboats but easier to deploy.

The door behind them burst open, crew members, six of them.

"There!"

Yoo grabbed a fire extinguisher from the wall, swung it, hit the window.

Glass exploded outward.

"Jump!" He grabbed Ji-yeon and they went through.

Three meters down to the deck. Yoo hit metal hard, his ankle twisted, the pain felt more a spring that got twisted.

Ji-yeon landed better, rolled, came up running.

"The raft!" Yoo limped after her.

She reached the railing. Started working on the emergency raft’s release. "I need—"

A bullet cracked into the railing beside her head.

On the upper deck, crew members leaned out, aiming at them.

Yoo threw the fire extinguisher. It tumbled through air, hit one armed man in the chest, he fell backwards.

Ji-yeon pulled the release lever.

The raft deployed. WHOOSH. CO2 cartridge inflated it in seconds, bright orange, hung over the side of the ship, suspended by a rope.

"Cut the rope!" Yoo yelled.

Ji-yeon’s hand went dark. She touched the rope. It didn’t cut—it dissolved. Just stopped existing where she touched it.

The raft dropped. Hit water with a splash.

More bullets, crack-crack-crack. Metal sparking.

"Go!" Yoo pushed Ji-yeon toward the railing.

She climbed over, looked at the water below, three-meter drop.

"I can’t—"

"You can." Yoo climbed beside her. "On three. One. Two—"

A hand grabbed his collar from behind.

Director Kwan, moved with the speed of a gold rank.

"Enough." He pulled Yoo back. Hard. "This ends—"

Ji-yeon’s shadows wrapped around Kwan’s arm, dark tendrils, pulling him down, making him feel heavy.

His grip loosened.

Yoo twisted, broke free, his glass knife was still in his pocket, he pulled it out, slashed.

It cut across Kwan’s hand, shallow, not deep but enough.

Kwan jerked back. "You little—"

Yoo grabbed Ji-yeon and jumped.

They fell.

Water hit like concrete. Cold. Shocking. Yoo went under. Salt water burned his cuts. His lungs screamed for air.

He kicked. Broke surface. Gasping.

Ji-yeon surfaced beside him. Coughing. Struggling.

"The raft!" Yoo pointed.

It was ten meters away. Drifting. The ocean current pulling it.

They swam. Awkward. Desperate. The water was so cold it made muscles seize. Every movement hurt.

Yoo reached the raft first, grabbed the rope handles, pulled himself up causing his broken fingers to scream. He didn’t care.

Ji-yeon reached it. Yoo grabbed her hand. Hauled her up.

They collapsed in the bottom of the raft, shivering, soaked and bleeding.

Above them, on the ship’s deck, figures moved, crew members watching.

But not shooting.

Why not?

Kwan appeared at the railing, he looked down at them, expression unreadable.

Then he smiled.

"Twenty-eight kilometers to shore. In an emergency raft, with the current pulling you south." He checked his watch. "You’ll drift into shipping lanes in about four hours. If you’re lucky, someone picks you up before you die of exposure."

He turned away. "Let them go, they’re not worth the ammunition."

The crew dispersed.

The ship’s engines rumbled. It started moving, turning and heading away.

Leaving them alone in the ocean.

Emergency Raft - 6:03 PM

Yoo lay on his back, staring at the sky.

His whole body shook. Hypothermia setting in, the raft had emergency supplies—thermal blankets, flares, water, but getting to them meant moving, and moving felt impossible right now.

Beside him, Ji-yeon curled into a ball, her lips were blue.

"We’re going to die," she whispered.

"Maybe."

"That’s not comforting."

"Wasn’t trying to comfort, just being honest." Yoo forced himself to sit upvery muscle protested. "Akasha Archive, survival probability."

"Current conditions: water temperature 14°C, air temperature 16°C, both subjects soaked, one with multiple injuries. Without intervention: hypothermia onset in 30-45 minutes. Fatal in 90-120 minutes. Current location: 28 kilometers from shore, drifting south at 2 kilometers per hour. Probability of rescue: 12%. Probability of reaching shore alive: 3%."

Three percent.

Again.

Yoo was getting tired of three-percent odds.

He crawled to the emergency kit. Hands shaking so hard he could barely grip anything. Pulled out a thin silver thermal blankets that could trap heat.

He wrapped one around Ji-yeon. Then himself.

"What now?" she asked.

"We wait. Hope someone sees us." Yoo pulled out a flare gun. "When we see ships, we fire this."

"And if no ships come?"

"Then we drift until we die or reach shore." He leaned back. "Three percent chance of the second one."

Ji-yeon laughed, bitter and exhausted. "I survived three years alone, avoided monsters, anything having to do with factions, basically hid from everyone." She pulled the blanket tighter. "Just to die in a raft in the middle of the ocean."

"Not dead yet."

"Give it an hour."