At the Akarios Island

Meanwhile, on Akarios Island...

"It's boring," the commander-in-chief of Akarios Island, General Harper, muttered as he sipped his coffee. The steaming mug barely warmed his hands in the chilly morning air.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

It was early, and the sky was a dull, overcast gray, threatening snow at any moment. Droplets of cold mist clung to the windows of the command center, and the wind howled outside, carrying with it the promise of an impending storm. Harper looked out, his gaze wandering over the landscape of the Akarios Village.

"Well, most of the action is on the continent," said his second-in-command, Colonel Brandt, as he walked into the room. He gave a half-smile, clearly trying to lighten the mood, but Harper wasn't in the mood for pleasantries.

"Yeah, lucky them," Harper muttered, taking another sip of his now lukewarm coffee. His eyes remained fixed on the fog-covered horizon, where the incoming storm seemed to mirror his own frustration.

Brandt shrugged, moving to stand beside Harper, glancing out at the quiet village below. "Peaceful isn't the worst thing, though. Especially here."

"Peaceful? That's just another word for vulnerable," Harper grunted. "And I don't like vulnerable. I really hate when there is nothing to do for us here."

"I think I prefer peace over chaos. Because we have nothing to worry about here," Brandt finished with a smirk, his gaze following Harper's out toward the mist-shrouded village. The wind howled again, shaking the windows as if mocking the quietness of the scene.

Harper turned to him, narrowing his eyes. "Peace is a lie. There's always something lurking beneath the surface, waiting for us to get complacent."

Just as the words left his mouth, the radio crackled again, cutting through the stillness of the room like a knife.

"General Harper, radar's picked up something. Looks like a small vessel approaching fast from the eastern quadrant.

"A small vessel? Can you figure out what kind?" General Harper asked, his tone shifting from boredom to concern as he moved closer to the radio.

"Negative, sir. No clear identification. Must be the locals of this world. But it's suspicious, it's just alone there at the sea."

"What's the current bearing and speed?"

"Current bearing is 095 degrees east, speed approximately 5 knots. Looked like a fishing boat but there's only one person."

Harper frowned, his eyes narrowing as he processed the information. "Only one person on board? That's strange. A fishing boat this far out, alone?"

Brandt, standing beside him, crossed his arms, his expression mirroring Harper's concern. "Could be a scout. Or worse, a decoy."

Harper nodded grimly. "I don't like it. Get a patrol boat out there. I want eyes on this thing. And get the anti-air defenses prepped, just in case this is some kind of diversion."

"Understood, sir." Brandt immediately turned on his heel, issuing orders to the nearby officers.

The atmosphere in the command center shifted, the earlier boredom replaced by a palpable tension. Harper stared at the radar screen, watching the slow-moving blip of the vessel as it approached the island. Something wasn't right. His gut told him this was more than just a harmless fishing boat.

"Patrol boat on its way, sir," Brandt reported. "ETA, five minutes."

Harper didn't respond, his focus entirely on the radar. The wind outside was picking up, the storm drawing closer, but it wasn't the weather that concerned him now. His instincts were screaming at him to be ready.

Minutes ticked by, and the patrol boat's radio crackled to life.

"Command, this is Patrol Two. We have visual on the vessel. It's an old fishing boat, single occupant...it appears to be a woman wearing a dark robe."

Harper's frown deepened as he heard the report over the crackling radio. "A woman in a dark robe? That doesn't fit the profile of any of the local fishermen."

Beside him, Brandt stiffened, his face reflecting the same unease that Harper felt.

"I don't like this...General. Might be an enemy."

"I know, I am sensing that too."

General Harper's eyes stayed locked on the radar as he clenched his jaw, processing the oddity of the situation. The woman in a dark robe, alone in a small boat, didn't add up. The entire scenario smelled of a trap or some form of espionage.

Brandt, sensing the growing tension in the room, straightened. "Orders, sir?"

"Patrol Two, approach the vessel cautiously. Arrest the woman, but proceed with extreme caution."

"Understood, sir. Moving in now," came the reply, though the uncertainty in the soldier's voice was unmistakable.

The patrol boat surged forward, cutting through the waters toward the small fishing vessel. As they neared, the air around the woman seemed to shift, her dark robe fluttering in the wind as though it had a life of its own. Her head remained bowed, and her hands were clasped together in front of her-silent, still, and unsettling.

The patrol boat's crew exchanged nervous glances, their weapons trained on the woman. Just as they were about to board her vessel, something lashed out from the water-black, slithering tendrils, like living shadows, wrapped around the hull of the patrol boat. They coiled tightly, pulling the ship downward with a force none of the soldiers expected.

"Sir! Something's latched onto the boat!" shouted one of the soldiers, panic creeping into his voice. The patrol boat rocked violently, the tendrils pulling it further down toward the sea's dark depths.

On the patrol boat, chaos erupted as the crew scrambled, confusion and fear spreading like wildfire. "What the hell is that?!" another soldier yelled, his eyes wide in terror as the tendrils tightened their grip. The soldiers tried to shoot at the strange tendrils, but it was futile.

"Look at her hands!" one of the soldiers cried out, pointing to the woman on the fishing boat. Her hands were now glowing with a faint, ominous purple light. It was her-she was the one controlling the tendrils!

"She's the source!" the patrol leader yelled, but before he could issue another command, the woman raised her hands, and with a flick of her wrist, a thick, dark mist shot forth from her, enveloping the patrol boat.

The mist swirled and billowed, choking the air with its unnatural presence. The soldiers coughed, their vision blurring as they struggled to breathe. But worse was yet to come-their eyes, once clear and sharp, started to glow a faint violet hue.

One by one, the soldiers turned their weapons on each other.

"Captain! What are you-" one soldier started, but he was cut short by a burst of gunfire from his own commander. Confusion and madness took over, and soon the patrol boat became a scene of chaos as the men, now under the influence of the mist, fired upon one another.

In the command center, Harper and Brandt listened in shock as the radio filled with the sound of gunfire and screams.

"Patrol Two, report! What's happening out there?" Harper demanded, his voice frantic.

There was no coherent response, only the sound of more gunfire and the screams of men

turning on their own.

Brandt turned to Harper, his face pale. "She is bad news."