Drift Of The Multiverse: [Marvel] [Resident Evil] [DC] [Bleach] [DB]

"Hello, Captain Ethan."

Philip and the others looked at Ethan with mild surprise, his youthful appearance wasn't what they had expected. But what unsettled them even more was that, despite all this time aboard, they hadn't seen a single other crew member.

The three men exchanged uneasy glances, their expressions shifting from curiosity to tension, as if recalling something dreadful. In the end, Philip gathered his courage and cautiously voiced the question weighing on their minds.

"Are your crew… resting?"

"No," Ethan replied plainly. "I'm the only one on board."

He had no reason to hide the truth. Besides, these men were clearly in rough shape, none of them posed a real threat to him.

But instead of showing any opportunistic intent, their expressions filled with deeper fear. One of them, Sean, the combat captain, even took an unconscious step backward, his gaze darting toward the sea as if contemplating whether to jump overboard.

Ethan raised an eyebrow. "I'm curious, what exactly are you afraid of?"

He wasn't one for beating around the bush. Rather than playing guessing games, he preferred to get straight to the point.

At first, Philip and his crew looked startled by the question. But as realization dawned, their fear quickly turned into relief. A long sigh escaped Philip's lips, as if a massive weight had just lifted off his shoulders.

"My apologies for the misunderstanding," he said. "We recently had a run-in with a ghost ship. We lost our vessel and our entire crew. Seeing another ship without a crew just now, we…"

"Ghost ship?" Ethan's interest piqued. But before he pressed further, he added, "My ship is controlled using magic stone technology."

Philip nodded as though finally piecing things together. "Yes, that makes sense."

Magic stone technology was well-known in these waters, but their recent trauma had led them to instinctively assume the worst. Realizing their mistake, the three men practically collapsed onto the deck, too exhausted to stay on their feet.

"You should rest here for now," Ethan said. "I'll bring you some food and water."

"Thank you, Captain Ethan," Philip said, removing his hat in gratitude. The other two attempted to express their thanks as well, but they were in worse condition and could barely speak.

Ethan quickly returned with food, water, and fruit to help replenish their energy. As they ate, color returned to their faces, and they no longer looked like they were about to collapse.

Seeing that they had regained some strength, Ethan finally asked the question that had been on his mind.

"You mentioned a ghost ship?"

Philip was the one to answer. The other two remained silent but nodded in agreement as he spoke, showing their trust and respect for their first mate.

"It was a massive ghost warship. It disguised itself as a ship in distress and sent out a distress signal. Our ship, the Advance, responded… and that was our downfall."

"The whole crew was lost?" Ethan frowned. "Only the three of you escaped?"

Something didn't add up. If the ghost ship had simply lured them in and attacked, then surely some of the crew could have fled in time. Why had the entire Advance been wiped out?

"Yes," Philip confirmed grimly. "The moment we realized something was wrong, we tried to flee, but a dense fog engulfed our ship. No matter how we sailed, we couldn't escape, we kept circling within the same area. And every night… strange things started happening."

As he spoke, all three men visibly tensed, their faces paling as though reliving a nightmare.

"That was when we realized we had been cursed," Philip continued. "If we stayed any longer, our ship itself would become a ghost ship. The captain ordered us to abandon ship, everyone was scattered across multiple escape boats, with at least ten people per boat.

"But even after escaping, the strange occurrences didn't stop."

His voice grew hoarse as he lowered his head.

"In the end, only our boat somehow broke free from the fog. The others… they never made it out. Not even their bodies."

Philip buried his face in his hands. He had done everything he could, yet in the end, he had failed to save most of his crew.

"You did everything you could," Ethan said.

He wasn't sure how to console the man, after all, he had never experienced something like this himself. These words were the only ones that felt appropriate.

Fortunately, Philip had his remaining companions to support him. With their quiet reassurance, the older man gradually regained his composure.

After wiping his face, he forced a weak smile. "I must look quite pitiful."

Ethan shook his head, signaling that he didn't mind. He had planned to ask more about the ghost ship and the supernatural occurrences aboard the Advance, but before he could say anything, something caught his eye.

He pointed toward the sea.

"Is that the ghost ship you were talking about?"

Philip froze.

Slowly, he turned to look—only for his face to twist in shock, despair, and disbelief.

"No…!" His voice trembled.

There, floating eerily on the water, was a large galleon.

Its sails were tattered, flapping in the wind with a haunting rustle. The ship's hull bore heavy damage, yet somehow, it remained perfectly afloat. Even the ocean waves didn't seem to affect it—it sat eerily still, defying the natural movements of the sea.

Ethan narrowed his eyes. "That ship…"

"It's the Advance!" Philip gasped.

Ethan's gaze sharpened.

Things had just gotten a lot more interesting.

Raising his binoculars, he focused on the ship and confirmed the name etched on its bow:

Advance.

Philip wasn't imagining things. This wasn't a hallucination brought on by exhaustion, this was his ship.

Ethan lowered the binoculars, his mind already racing with possibilities.

"How long has it been since you first encountered the ghost ship?" he asked. "From the time you escaped… until I rescued you?"

Philip swallowed hard. "Seven days."

"Seven days…"

Ethan lifted the binoculars again, carefully studying every detail of the Advance.

"Captain Ethan…"

Philip's voice was shaking. The fear in his tone made it clear, the ghost ship had left a deep scar in his mind.

"Turn around, quickly!"

Philip's voice was urgent, panic creeping into his tone.

When sailing in open waters, if the wind direction and speed were favorable, a ship could simply lock its wheel and let the wind carry it forward, provided there were no hidden reefs or obstacles ahead.

Only when dealing with shifting winds or sailing against the wind did constant adjustments to the sails and course become necessary.

Ethan, however, preferred a more efficient approach. He often sailed downwind whenever possible, allowing for smooth travel while freeing himself to focus on other tasks.

At the moment, the Goddess of Dawn was moving straight ahead with the wind. If it maintained this course and speed, it would inevitably intercept the ghost ship Advance before long.

"No need," Ethan said calmly. "Haven't you noticed? The distance between us hasn't changed at all."

Philip blinked in confusion before realization hit him.

The Advance looked as if it were simply drifting at sea, but that wasn't the case. It was moving at the exact same speed as the Goddess of Dawn, mirroring its pace.

No matter how fast Ethan sailed, the distance between them remained fixed.

This wasn't a coincidence.

They had already been targeted.

Philip clutched his head, horror dawning on his face. "Gods above… we never escaped, did we?"

He shuddered. "Those undead… they let us go on purpose. We weren't survivors—we were just bait to lure in more victims!"

Despair settled over him.

Even with Ethan's advanced ship, fully equipped with magic stone technology, Philip couldn't see how they could possibly outrun the ghost ship.

He wasn't an amateur, he knew exactly how a ship should behave when running at full speed downwind. And yet, the Goddess of Dawn, despite its cutting-edge design, couldn't pull ahead. That meant only one thing:

The ghost ship was just as fast.

And in naval combat, speed was everything.

The faster vessel dictated the engagement, controlling when and where the fight happened. The slower ship? It could neither chase nor escape, it was at the mercy of its pursuer.

Looking out at the endless horizon, Philip felt the crushing weight of helplessness.

There was nowhere to run.

They couldn't outmaneuver the ghost ship.

They couldn't outrun it.

And if they couldn't fight it…

They were as good as dead.

Ethan clapped a hand on Philip's shoulder, breaking his spiraling thoughts.

"If we can't escape," Ethan said, "then we focus on how to deal with it."

Philip inhaled sharply.

After a brief pause, he straightened his back and placed the tattered hat back on his head, forcing himself to regain his composure. "You're right, Captain Ethan," he said, his voice steadier. "I apologize. We've troubled you."

Ethan shook his head. "Even if you weren't here, I still would've encountered this ship on my current course. So don't blame yourself."

Philip disagreed but said nothing.

In his mind, it was clear, he and his crew had dragged Ethan into this mess.

Ethan was young. Far too young. A skilled sailor, yes. And clearly talented, considering the ship he commanded. He had a bright future ahead of him—or at least, he should have.

Instead, because of them, he was about to become another victim of the Advance's curse.

Ethan, however, had no interest in self-pity or regret.

He simply turned his gaze toward the ghost ship in the distance, his mind sharpening with focus.

There was no need to ask Philip for more details, soon enough, he would see for himself.

And when that time came, the undead aboard the Advance would learn something as well:

Ethan wasn't prey.

He was a hunter.

***

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