The world had become a colossal arena.
Spotlights from every direction converged upon a single stage—the dark, turbulent Dover Strait, the narrow channel linking the British Isles and continental Europe.
It was illuminated as if for a grand performance.
The EUC broadcast the deployment of the "Siren's Net" operation live across the globe.
It was both a show of unprecedented confidence and an unmistakable open trap.
For the next seventy-two hours, this storm-lashed stretch of ocean became the sole focus of humanity.
On the EUC's official news channel, a massive countdown timer—formed from cold blue light—hung in the upper corner of the screen.
Each second that ticked away felt like the hand of fate moving forward.
On the prime-time program Global Focus, the host sat upright, facing three distinguished guests projected as holograms before him.
"General," the host began, "how high do you believe the success rate of the 'Siren's Net' operation is?"
The question was directed toward the first guest—a retired general with a stern face and commanding presence.
"From a purely military perspective," the old general replied confidently, "the preparation for this operation is flawless."
"The EUC has deployed elite fleets from three divisions, and the Thunder Spear orbital rail cannon is already in position."
"In theory, this force can counter any known physical threat."
He paused slightly.
"But…"
"In warfare, the greatest variable is always the unknown enemy."
"You mean the mysterious giant people call Ultraman?" the host asked.
"Exactly," the general nodded.
"He is a variable beyond conventional calculation."
"His arrival could instantly shift the balance of the entire battle."
The sociologist seated in the middle—a graceful woman—expressed a different concern.
"We should also consider public sentiment."
"Online discussions under the topic #WillUltramanCome have already surpassed those about the monster itself."
"Public emotions are divided."
"People hope for the hero's arrival… yet they fear the EUC's trap might anger him."
"This contradiction is something the EUC must handle very carefully."
The third guest, a young man who had recently gained fame as a 'giant lifeform phenomenon researcher,' spoke passionately.
"We must trust him!"
"From Yangjibang to London, every time he appeared, it was to protect civilians!"
"He isn't a weapon—he's a miracle!"
"He will come!"
This debate was merely a small reflection of the global storm.
Across social media, the digital battlefield burned.
The tag #WillUltramanCome was refreshed hundreds of billions of times in just three days.
Two opposing camps had nearly torn the online world apart.
The "Ultraman Supporters" were unwavering.
"He will come! He's humanity's guardian!"
"A true hero never fears a challenge!"
They restored Shen Yong's London battle footage to high definition using AI and produced countless edits.
His flawless shoulder throw had been dubbed:
"The Greatest Throw of the Century."
Meanwhile, the "Threat Advocates" issued cold warnings.
"This isn't a challenge—it's a trap."
"The EUC's official term is 'giant,' not 'guardian.' That says everything about their attitude."
"If Ultraman is smart, he won't walk into this."
"If he's captured, the best outcome for him would be life inside a laboratory as humanity's test subject."
Amid the chaos, one voice stood apart.
It came from Yangjibang.
Survivors saved by Shen Yong had started a campaign titled:
#BelieveInOurHero
They didn't argue online.
Instead, they quietly posted photos of themselves standing among the ruins.
They shared stories of the red-and-silver figure who had brought hope during their darkest moment.
One video in particular spread across the world.
It showed a little girl—the same child Shen Yong had rescued from Neronga.
Her voice was soft and innocent.
"Ultraman big brother… I believe in you."
Within hours, the video gained billions of views.
Countless viewers watched with tears in their eyes.
Shen Yong had shut himself inside his apartment.
He turned off all social media notifications.
The noise of the outside world—anger, hope, debate—no longer mattered to him.
Instead, he approached the problem like a master hacker preparing to breach the most heavily protected system imaginable.
His holographic screen no longer displayed martial arts tutorials.
Instead, it showed every publicly available detail about the Siren's Net.
Fleet positions.
Energy buoy output and spacing.
Armor specifications of the flagship Leviathan.
Frequency ranges of the sonic lures.
He fed all the data into a program he had written himself.
The information transformed into a vast dynamic simulation model.
"The sonic lure range is the core…"
"But the power supply is too centralized."
"It relies heavily on the flagship Leviathan and four secondary energy ships…"
"The particle net isn't perfectly uniform either…"
"There's a theoretical energy decay gap between the ships."
Red attack vectors appeared across the simulation.
"They want to force me into the center of the net," he muttered.
"Then tighten the trap and bombard both the monster and me with crossfire."
"A classic prisoner's dilemma."
He walked to the window and looked out over the rebuilding skyline.
"But they miscalculated one thing…"
His eyes sharpened.
"They think I can only enter from the outside."
He continued training during those days.
But the focus had changed.
It was no longer about brute strength.
Instead, he trained to control stamina precisely and recover efficiently.
Every time he pushed himself to exhaustion, he summoned the Beta Capsule.
He studied the strange weakness that followed.
How long did it take to recover?
How much could he safely spend?
The next battle would allow no mistakes.
He would not only face a monster—
But an entire world of political power.
The day of battle arrived.
The Dover Strait was shrouded in thick gray clouds.
Cold waves slammed against the steel hulls of the massive fleet.
On the bridge of the EUC flagship Leviathan, the atmosphere was suffocating.
Mark Reyes stood in a crisp black uniform.
Both hands rested on the command console as he looked out at the largest naval formation in human history—over a hundred warships and engineering vessels.
"All units report status," he ordered.
His voice echoed across every combat channel through quantum communication.
"Siren's Net Zone A energy nodes operational."
"Thunder orbital rail cannon fully charged. Target locked."
"Sonic lure devices standing by. Frequencies calibrated."
Behind him, Ellie Solen monitored the scientific control station.
Her job was to observe every energy fluctuation on the battlefield.
Including the monster's.
And the giant's.
"Mark," she said quietly, "we should still leave a communication channel open. If he's willing to talk—"
"There is no 'if,'" Mark cut her off.
"The board is set."
"The players will arrive."
"If he doesn't show up, we prove humanity can defeat monsters without gods."
"And if he does…"
His gaze hardened.
"Then he will learn that humanity's power deserves respect too."
Mark inhaled slowly.
Then he issued the command that would be recorded in history.
"Siren's Net… activate."
"Sonic lure devices, phase one—activate."
At once, hundreds of massive energy buoys across the sea lit up with brilliant blue light.
Deep beneath the ocean, particle beams connected them into a gigantic energy barrier stretching dozens of kilometers.
Then—
A massive infrasonic wave surged through the depths like the war drums of a giant.
Minutes passed.
The ocean remained silent except for wind and waves.
Billions of viewers held their breath.
Then suddenly—
The sonar station screamed with alarms.
"Massive lifeform detected!"
"Ascending rapidly from the deep sea!"
"Energy levels… three times higher than Neronga!"
"Distance—five kilometers!"
"Three!"
"One!"
"It's coming!"
The ocean exploded upward.
At the center of the Siren's Net, a mountainous head burst from the water, sending hundred-meter waves crashing outward.
The colossal body of Gesura rose into view.
The sonic lure had enraged it completely.
It opened its massive jaws and roared toward the sky with violent fury.
The game had begun.
The world watched.
The EUC fleet waited.
Hidden observers in the shadows waited as well.
Everyone was waiting—
For the other player to enter the board.