To avoid detection by the enemy, the Shadowfin couldn't get too close to the giant vessel, but Jonathan Black had his own solution. He squeezed into the Shadowfin's launch pod, the watertight hatch slamming shut behind him. With a series of mechanical clunks, it felt like he'd been loaded into a human-sized cannon.
He wore a night-vision headset, and his high-tech, skintight wetsuit showed off every sculpted muscle. On the back of his head was a tiny compressed oxygen pack—enough air for just twenty minutes.
But for him, twenty minutes was more than enough.
Jill Young's voice came through the micro-mic, crystal clear in the sealed pod: "Cousin, I’ll be there in a little over ten minutes. How long do you need on your end?"
"I only need five." Five minutes—barely enough for a regular Joe to sprint from bow to stern. But Jonathan Black? He was about to pull off some wild, totally nuts shortcut to get his mission done in record time.
The Shadowfin angled toward the front of the vessel’s course, red lights blinking in the launch pod as a low alarm sounded three times. With a muffled plop, Jonathan shot out of the launch tube like a fish torpedo. Normal humans would’ve been pulverized by that force, but he didn’t even flinch. He sliced through the water like an Olympic swimmer hitting the pool, rippling from head to toe as he surged forward to intercept the ship.
The seawater was pitch black, and he swam downward at a steep angle. Someone on the micro-mic called out the vessel’s draft depth—he had to hit the spot at just the right height and time. Water pressure squeezed from all sides, plunging him into a deep silence. But in that silence, his heartbeat thundered and adrenaline surged.
I’m not some Chosen One, but I can be the toughest SOB on Earth!
Heck yeah! I’m a beast!
Ever since that fried meat slice up in the Northeast, something mysterious got triggered in Jonathan Black’s body. He couldn’t practice the Dragon Elephant Technique, but thanks to those magical meat slices, he just kept getting stronger and stronger. You could already see the signs during the Donald Zade Island Incident, and after that, it was all gains, no brakes. By Jill Young’s standards, Jonathan Black now had the strength of a level-three Dragon Elephant—and was this close to hitting level four.
It’s only been a few months in Earth time—ridiculously fast. Nobody has a clue how he’s smashing through the limits of regular humans, or how he got so OP.
Whoosh—Jonathan Black kicked off like a swordfish cutting through the sea.
"Already reached the spot, fifteen seconds until—wait, hold up!" Oddball Bro shouted over the micro-mic, "Boss, the target’s speeding up—crazy fast! You gotta bail, now! Repeat, target’s speeding up, you gotta get outta—"
Whoosh! Jonathan Black spread out his limbs like a skydiver hitting the brakes. Everything’s relative—if he slowed down, whatever was barreling in from behind was about to get even wilder.
He spun around in the water just in time to see a massive shadow surging his way, dragging a wild current. No human could keep their balance in that flow—the best-case scenario was a few broken bones, worst case, you end up sushi in the ship’s propellers.
But Jonathan Black just sneered, eyes blazing: "Leave?"
I’m not some Chosen One, but I can be the toughest guy on Earth!
Boom! The giant ship rumbled right over, humming like a monster. But Jonathan Black fought the swirling current, and in a split-second flash, he lunged for the hull—smack! His special magnetic gloves locked onto the bottom. His fingers scraped long grooves in the metal; the force would’ve ripped a normal person’s arms off, but for him, it was just right!
Whoosh—Jonathan Black whipped a device the size of a longan off his belt and slapped it onto the hull. The Shadowfin crew immediately cheered: "First scanner stuck—working perfectly!"
Jonathan Black let go, riding the current toward the stern. His hands were a blur—grabbing, pulling, darting back and forth, steering with arms and legs glued to the hull. He kept slapping those scanner orbs on, one after another: thump, thump, thump.
There were only a dozen or so of these scanners—on a ship this size, that’s like tossing a handful of marbles on a soccer field. But teamed up with Liu Xiaoying’s paparazzi-grade camera setup, the results were pure magic.
"Got it!" The observer reported, hyped: "Full scan image is up, sending it to everyone’s computers now! Boss, you can pull out."
Jonathan Black didn’t bother replying. He kicked off and swam toward the stern, where rows of massive turbines churned the water like crazy. He stared at those turbines like a hungry wolf sizing up dinner, and said coldly, "Remember, don’t tell me what to do. I’m the one in charge here."
The observer instantly went silent, scared stiff.
—Half a minute later—
On the chugging ship, the crew suddenly felt something was off. The vessel should’ve been gunning ahead, but… was the acceleration kinda weak? And if you listened close, the sound at the stern was way quieter than usual. There was still some splashing, but that thundering stampede vibe was gone.
"Engine trouble—looks like something’s caught!" "Did we snag a shark net?" "Quick, send two folks to check it out!"
Two nearby sailors headed to the stern and looked down. First glance—they saw the wake was way smaller than it should’ve been. The long stretch of white foam was now just a tiny patch. Second glance—they spotted something weird, like something was crawling up the hull.
Before they could get a good look, a pair of iron arms shot up from below, grabbing their necks like lightning. With a twist and a crunch, one guy’s neck snapped like a twig. Jonathan Black zipped onto the deck, stone-faced, silently dropping the twitching body and staring death at the other guy—his silent threat was enough to freeze blood.
"Status update?" crackled the walkie-talkie. "Engine crew, what’s going on? Respond!"
The guy was so freaked out by Jonathan Black he could barely move. His eyes darted around, begging for mercy. Jonathan Black pointed at the walkie-talkie, and the guy nodded frantically.
Jonathan loosened his grip.
"N-no problem!" The guy grabbed the walkie-talkie, nervously faking a report: "It’s just a shark net—engine got tangled, we’ll clear it out! Over!"
"Copy that."
Beep—the walkie-talkie cut off. Crunch—Jonathan Black snapped the guy’s neck without a hint of mercy. Dealing with SD was life or death—no room for luck. He was cold as steel, grabbed the walkie-talkie, threw on the guy’s clothes, dumped the body into the sea, and finally pressed the micro-mic to say one word.
"Attack."
"Gotcha!" Oddball Bro’s voice crackled through the micro-mic: "Time for us to shine!"
Out in the night sky, a giant shadow floated above. Look closer—it was a massive kite. Well, not exactly a kite, more like a "kite-inspired solo sea rig." Thick cables stretched from the Shadowfin’s "scalp," holding the kite steady and letting it adjust height on the fly.
Inside the kite’s cockpit, Liu Xiaoying was lining up shots of the giant ship with her camera. With every click, key targets popped up on the panoramic map. Next to her, Oddball Bro was warming up with squats, twists, and some truly questionable stretches. His skintight suit left nothing to the imagination—especially that one part he’d tailored to stick out, wobbling left and right with every move. The whole routine was so sketchy, even Chainsaw Girl was ready to chainsaw him in half.
Even Chainsaw Girl couldn’t stand it—her hair practically turned into a hashtag as she looked ready to grab her chainsaw and go to town. Xiaoying just facepalmed and sighed, "Radar’s marked. There might be high voltage there, so... good luck, buddy."
Suddenly, the Shadowfin sped up and the "kite" soared, shooting way above the ship and closing in fast.
"Relax, relax! My big gun’s been itching for action! Only I can pull this off!" Oddball Bro slapped his crotch, shoved open the hatch, and whooshed out. Bam—arms and legs spread, his wing suit caught the wind and sent him hurtling toward the target.
"Honestly, I’d rather he just croaked—less mental pollution for the rest of us." Chainsaw Girl stomped out, her custom wing suit showing off every curve: "I’m going too!"
Whoosh, whoosh—two shadows zipped through the night, one after the other, lightning-fast toward the ship’s antenna before anyone could react. Wing suits are a pain in the butt to master—even geniuses need ages to get the hang of ’em. Plus, you gotta have just the right body and weight. Chainsaw Girl, with her killer curves, nailed it. Oddball Bro? Not so much.
From launch to now, Oddball Bro and crew barely had time for practice. But hey, Chosen Ones aren’t normal folks. Oddball Bro swooped down, wobbling all over, barely slowing, but his dive was spot-on and fierce.
He arched his back, flexed, and—yep, that part popped up (still didn’t beat his belly). His battle cry made Jonathan Black’s eyelid twitch below.
"One—shot—straight—to—the—soul!"
Crash! Boom! The antenna exploded—sparks and fire everywhere—marking the start of the raid.