Thirty nautical miles away, the sky was slowly darkening.

Celula and Monchhichi geared up in full loadout, each holding a Glock 19 with mags loaded to the brim with Fireball rounds.

Standing side by side at the stern, Celula watched the approaching enemy, her heartbeat quickening. "Monchhichi, can we really hold them off?"

Monchhichi took a deep breath, forcing down her nerves. "Relax. We’ll take the initiative, take out enough of them to make them back off. As long as we stall long enough, Captain Kevin will get here in time."

Celula let out a slight breath of relief.

Even with her lingering complaints about Kevin, just knowing he was coming brought a faint sense of security.

She looked up, her gaze fixed on the distant ship, her eyes sharpening. "Monchhichi, look. Four of them are standing at the bow. Easy targets for us, right?"

Monchhichi shook her head. "The Glock’s effective range is fifty meters. A trained shooter can hit accurately up to a hundred. Past that, bullets lose all precision and just scatter."

She held out a hand, estimating the distance between the ships. "They’re about six hundred meters out. To do any damage, we need those Fireball rounds to actually land on their deck."

"Wait for it. Let them get closer."

Five hundred meters behind them on the waves, a battered sailing ship was giving chase at full tilt.

At the very front of the bow, four naked, heavily muscled men stared forward, constantly whistling and swearing.

"Hey chicks! Ease up! Let me show you how to properly serve a man!"

"F**k, you hear me? Dial it down! Keep this up, and when we catch you, I’ll split your asses open!"

"Gentlemen, step on it! Let’s crush those bitches completely!"

The men shouted as they dove their long oars into the water.

A faint glow flared around one of the men. The light spread to the others, and their muscles instantly swelled, gleaming with an unnatural sheen.

Bathed in the glow, they seemed to draw on endless strength. The seven-to-eight-meter oars became toys in their hands, slashing through the water with reckless force. The waves churned, and the ship’s pursuit speed surged again.

The gap between the ships was already small to begin with, and now it was shrinking fast.

Six hundred meters...

Five hundred...

Four hundred...

As the distance closed, a tall, striking woman in a crimson dress stepped out of the cabin, heels clicking, flanked by two heavily armed men in suits.

She walked to the bow and casually took a pair of binoculars from one of her suit guards. Through the lenses, she clearly saw the tense, pale faces of Celula and Monchhichi.

The woman in the crimson dress grinned. "Looks like you’re in luck. You stumbled upon another pair of top-tier twin sisters."

She glanced back at the two suit thugs beside her. "So, who’s on the buyer’s list this time? Some king? Or a billionaire?"

The two thugs remained stone-faced, saying nothing.

At that moment, a blonde, blue-eyed young man with an unmistakable air of aristocracy walked up to the group.

He wore high-end leather shoes, a pinstripe suit tailored over a slim-fit vest, clearly signaling his elevated status.

Nova shot him a side glance and spat. "Strange, rare to see you leave your cabin. What, interested in the twins?"

Strange took the binoculars, scrutinized Monchhichi and Celula, then turned his gaze darkly toward Nova. "Nova, you’d do well to remember your place. You’re nothing more than a plaything we kidnapped."

Nova offered a coy smile, completely unfazed. "Let me correct you. I’m the plaything the big shot behind you has taken a fancy to."

Strange sneered. "What’s the difference? Just don’t try any tricks now."

Nova giggled and deliberately leaned closer. Strange recoiled in alarm.

Seeing this, she laughed even more loudly, her tone dripping with mockery. "You coward. You’re too scared to even touch me because that figurehead has a germaphobe streak. So what right do you have to restrict me? On this ship, I go where I want. You can’t stop me."

Anger flared on Strange’s face, but he couldn’t bring himself to act. Finally, he ground his teeth and growled, "Nova, I’m warning you. Don’t interfere with the kidnapping operation. Even when the Eldritch Descent arrives, The Eye of Tarot will still stand above this entire terrifying sea."

Nova scoffed lightly, turned, and walked back toward the cabin without looking back, tossing over her shoulder, "You all deserve to burn in hell."

Strange watched her disappear, his jaw twitching as he forced down his fury, fists clenching so tight his knuckles cracked.

The two suit thugs stepped forward. "Mr. Strange, the distance to their ship is under two hundred meters. Should we fire a warning shot?"

Strange raised the binoculars again, scanning Monchhichi and Celula’s movements.

Through the lenses, he saw both girls raise their pistols, aiming straight at his ship.

The image was perfectly clear.

"Glock 19s. This outdated handgun can’t even reach us from this range." Strange smirked, dripping with mockery.

But the moment he lowered the binoculars, two gunshots rang out sharply.

Two massive fireballs bloomed in midair, streaking toward them like meteors.

"GOD! What the hell is that?"

"F**k! What are those things?!"

The four naked men rowing were startled by the sudden fireballs, their eyes widening as they froze, hands slipping on the oars.

A blast of wind howled, and scorching heat instantly engulfed the group from above.

Strange watched as the two fireballs arced over their heads and slammed directly into the sails behind them.

In an instant, flames erupted. The once billowing canvas caught fire, and the masts began to sizzle and smoke.

Strange jolted, roaring, "Put out the fire!"

Everyone stopped what they were doing. The four burly men dropped their oars, grabbed buckets, and rushed toward the mast.

But the sail was simply too high, and with the fierce wind fanning the flames, the fire quickly consumed the entire canvas.

Frantically working, they only managed to salvage a tiny, charred remnant.

This tattered scrap was obviously completely incapable of sustaining high-speed sailing.

"Damn it! F**k!" Strange stomped hard on the deck, turning to glare venomously toward Celula and Monchhichi.

The enemy ship, already less than two hundred meters away, was now pulling further and further out of reach.

Three hundred meters...

Four hundred...

Five hundred...

Strange’s face flushed with rage, while the four burly men helping him fight the fire roared in fury.

"Damn it! Those bitches actually awakened a Fire Talent!"

"F**k, if I catch them, I’ll tear their throats out!"

Amidst the curses, Strange was the first to calm down.

Staring at the receding ship, his eyes turned icy. "Get me the RPG."

The two suit thugs hesitated for a split second, then quickly carried a weapons crate from a nearby storage area.

Strange kicked the lid open, pulling out a brand-new RPG rocket launcher.

He quickly assembled the components, opened the sight, hoisted the launcher onto his shoulder, and aimed at the ship ahead.

"You damn bitches, just you wait! To waste my last rocket on you... when I catch you, I’ll be the first to taste you!" With the words out, Strange pulled the trigger.

A burst of flame propelled the rocket, shooting toward the distant ship at high speed.

At this moment, Celula and Monchhichi were still reeling from the thrill of their earlier success.

Seeing the pursuing ship gradually fall behind due to the loss of its main propulsion, they felt a surge of excitement.

But that smugness didn’t last a minute before they were utterly stunned by the whistling rocket hurtling toward them.

BOOM.

The violent sway of the ship threw them off their feet. They crashed onto the deck, reeling from dizziness. Then they felt the ship suddenly list heavily to one side.

As captain, Monchhichi immediately sensed the hull damage, her expression turning pale. "It’s no good! They blew a hole in the stern! The ship’s taking on water. It’ll probably sink completely in under an hour."

Hearing this, Celula froze on the spot.

Having survived on this terrifying sea for a few days now, she knew exactly how terrifying the depths beneath were.

Once you fell overboard, there was absolutely zero chance of survival.

After the initial panic, a wave of resentment surged in her chest.

She turned around, glaring fiercely at Strange, who stood behind them with the rocket launcher on his shoulder, teeth clenched. "Monchhichi, what do we do?"

Monchhichi pushed herself up, steadying her stance. Watching the enemy ship slowly draw closer, she sighed. "Let’s ask Kevin what to do first."

Celula looked embarrassed.

After all, Kevin had been helping them all along, providing so much weapon and gear support, yet they still couldn’t stop the pursuers, and their own ship was about to be blown to the bottom. The result was truly shameful.

But when life and death were on the line, she gritted her teeth, opened her system panel, and sent a message to Kevin: "Kevin, our ship got hit by a rocket. The hull is leaking, and I don’t think it can hold much longer. What should we do?"

Twenty nautical miles away.

Kevin stood at the helm, maneuvering his ship with both sails pushed to max speed.

Seeing Celula’s message, his mouth twitched. On instinct, he typed back: "You really are stupid."

Being called out to her face like that, Celula’s face flushed with shame and annoyance.

But there was no time to argue back. She just frantically pressed him for instructions.

Kevin sighed, replying seriously: "What are you two sisters so afraid of? I gave you all those weapons. Don’t you have the confidence to beat them?"

"Since your ship’s sinking, just hijack theirs. Isn’t that simple?"

...