The next morning, on the Atlantic Ocean.
Morning light poured onto the sea like molten gold, dyeing the waves in flowing amber.
A thin sea mist hung in the distance like a veil, slowly dissipating under the rising sun. The salty, humid sea breeze swept across the lifeboat.
Warm sunlight struck his face, and Harry Osborn sat up from the cabin in a daze, looking around in confusion.
Once his eyes refocused, he shook Peter Parker beside him violently and shouted in a hoarse voice:
"Hey! Wake up! Peter! Z! Gwen! Kate! Wake up—there's a boat coming!"
At his words, everyone jolted awake. Harry Osborn trembled as he pulled a flare gun from the bottom of the lifeboat, aimed it at the pale sky, and pulled the trigger—
Whoosh—bang!
With a sharp report, the red flare arced through the morning light in a dazzling trail.
Twenty minutes later, three speedboats cut through the waves toward them.
Damian recounted their ordeal in detail. The sailors on the lead speedboat stared at the five survivors in disbelief and gasped:
"My God… the Argo sank? You're the only survivors?! This is a massive incident—I need to report it immediately!"
After hearing their account, the sailors radioed the captain of the freighter Pacific Dawn:
"Captain! We've found five survivors from the Argonaut. Their injuries are minor and non-life-threatening. A major maritime disaster has been confirmed ahead of us. Requesting urgent instructions!"
In the freighter's wheelhouse, Captain Robert Hayes grabbed the intercom, suppressing his shock, and ordered:
"Roger that! Immediately activate the SOLAS emergency plan!
"All vessels: shut down main engines and stand by! First mate—send a MAYDAY distress signal to the U.S. Coast Guard Command Center right away!"
Alarms blared throughout the ship. The freighter's power systems were quickly secured, and the massive hull gradually came to a stop on the open sea.
The second mate swiftly operated the communications equipment and transmitted in a clear, steady voice:
"Boston Command Center, this is MV Pacific Dawn, at 32°15′N, 64°45′W. We have located five survivors from the cruise ship Argonaut. Requesting emergency medical assistance! Repeat: requesting emergency medical assistance!"
On deck, the crew began rescue preparations in accordance with SOLAS protocols.
The medical team carried first-aid kits and stretchers to the helicopter landing area, while the chief engineer ordered additional lifeboats deployed as emergency backup.
"Prepare the helicopter for takeoff!" the captain commanded. "Implement standard humanitarian rescue procedures—and record all survivor statements."
He watched the approaching Coast Guard signal blink on the radar and spoke in a calm, steady tone.
An hour later, a U.S. Coast Guard patrol vessel emerged through the waves like a steel behemoth.
In the interrogation room aboard the cutter, the Coast Guard investigator's pen scratched across his notepad. When Damian mentioned "giant marine creature attacks," the pen suddenly stopped.
"You're certain this isn't a case of collective hallucination brought on by trauma or exposure?"
Damian lifted his eyes and met the officer's gaze, expressionless.
"The wreckage of the Argo lies on the seabed nearby—along with what's left of that creature. If you want proof, send a submersible down there and see for yourself."
The officer nodded slowly. "Don't worry—we will. For now, please sign this statement, lucky man."
After hearing the news, Damian sat at the bow of the patrol ship, gazing at the suddenly churning sea.
Over the Atlantic Ocean, three Seahawk helicopters tore through the clouds like steel falcons, their rotor wash carving white furrows across the ocean's surface.
Twelve Coast Guard cutters surged from the waves, their bows splitting the water into crystalline foam that glittered in the morning light.
Like a school of sharks scenting blood, they deployed a warning net with a radius of three nautical miles, centered on the coordinates of the Argo's last known sinking.
Sonar arrays from several research vessels unfurled like peacocks spreading their tails. The salvage ship's massive magnetic crane extended into the depths, and even the State Oceanic Administration's research vessel activated its biohazard warning lights.
Above the sea—now transformed into a battlefield—an HC-130 Hercules transport aircraft emblazoned with "USCG" dropped dozens of sonar buoys.
"Would you like some coffee?"
Harry Osborn's voice came from behind. He sat down beside Damian and handed him a steaming cup.
"Thanks," Damian said, taking the paper cup. The rising steam blurred his expression.
Harry's expression was solemn. His fingers unconsciously traced the rim of his own cup as he muttered,
"To be honest… even now, it still feels unreal. Like a nightmare.
If… if you and Peter hadn't survived, I'd never forgive myself."
"Don't talk like that," Damian replied lightly. "It wasn't your fault. Besides, we're all fine now. Don't overthink it."
He glanced toward Peter Parker on the deck, who was tucking a blanket around Gwen Stacy—only to be playfully kicked away—and offered Harry a reassuring smile.
But silence soon settled between them. The rhythmic crash of waves against the hull grew suddenly loud.
Harry stared at a helicopter landing in the distance and said abruptly,
"Z… if I'd had Diluc's power back then, you wouldn't have had to risk your lives. We could've saved even more people!
Instead of hiding behind you like a coward with Gwen and the others…"
Damian turned sharply, a bead of cold sweat sliding down his temple. "Harry," he said firmly, "it was just an accident. The odds of it happening again are probably no greater than Peter becoming rich overnight—or the U.S. abolishing taxes!
In the modern world, knowledge is the most powerful weapon. If you really want greater power, study hard. Stop getting played every day—level up! Reform yourself. Become a new man!
Don't worry—I'll have Peter send you a set of Five Years to Master, Three Years to Professor practice papers when we get back. I guarantee: from your hairline to your degree, you'll outshine everyone!"
"No need to persuade me anymore," Harry said. "I've made up my mind."
Damian: "…."
Harry took a deep breath, then lowered his voice.
"Don't worry—I won't do anything reckless. Osborn Industries has the most advanced biolab in the U.S.—maybe even the world. All it takes is a little help from Dr. Connors… and the military's remaining Super Soldier Serum formula…"
Seeing Harry—now practically draped in red flags—Damian tried one last time:
"Harry, listen to me. You're playing with fire."
Harry didn't flinch. His smile carried a resolve far beyond his years.
"Doesn't matter. Compared to getting burned by fire… I can't live with being a coward."
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