March 9th, 5:30 a.m.

The sea lay calm under the first light of dawn, its surface only lightly disturbed by a steady breeze. The sky above had begun to shift from deep night into a soft gradient of pale blue, spreading slowly across the horizon as morning arrived.

After traveling through the night, Zoe finally reduced her speed beneath the ocean.

She had already covered a vast distance. The eastward shift alone amounted to roughly six hundred kilometers, calculated from longitude differences adjusted for latitude. Combined with her earlier route, she was now approaching the waters near the Formentera fishing grounds.

Her original plan remained unchanged. Once she reached this zone, she would continue southward along the boundary of Imperial Roman's territorial waters. However, after such a long and uninterrupted journey, she decided to drift for a while first.

The ocean felt empty within her perception range. Even with her enhanced sensory field extending several hundred meters, the scale of the sea made everything feel distant and sparse. She had encountered almost nothing of interest throughout the entire night.

So instead of proceeding immediately, she began moving casually through the area, observing whatever life appeared along the way.

This region was known for Cephalopod fisheries, especially squid, cuttlefish, and octopuses, heavily harvested species found in waters around the edges of Balearic chain. The ecosystem here made it ideal for large-scale fishing operations.

As Zoe passed through the depths, she encountered several of these Cephalopods. Out of curiosity, she caught one octupus and tried it briefly. The result confirmed her earlier conclusion. Her sense of appetite still responded only to very specific biological categories, and these creatures did not qualify.

After some time of drifting without purpose, something finally entered her perception range.

A large fishing vessel.

It moved quietly across the surface, small in size and lacking any visible flag or clear identification. Yet faint human voices reached her through the water, speaking in a language she initially did not understand.

The ship had crossed into restricted waters without drawing attention. Nets were being deployed in a practiced rhythm, lowered steadily into the sea as the crew carried out their work in silence and coordination.

Zoe moved closer beneath the hull.

Listening more carefully, she began processing the unfamiliar language. Her mind rapidly reconstructed meaning from fragmented memory associations and prior exposure. Within seconds, the sounds became understandable.

The crew was discussing rare fish in the area and the profit they could gain from them. They also mentioned restrictions placed on certain species, and how those restrictions made the catch even more valuable for them.

Zoe understood their intent clearly.

These were not people struggling to survive. They were here for profit, deliberately operating inside prohibited waters.

As the fishing nets sank deeper, Zoe reached the underside of the vessel.

She extended her hands and grasped the netting.

Almost immediately, something changed above.

The ship began to shift.

"Something is caught in the net."

"It is heavy."

"The sonar shows something about two meters in length."

"A two meter fish cannot move the ship like this."

Their confusion escalated quickly. Before they could respond properly, the net suddenly tightened as if pulled by an immense force from below.

The vessel started to move.

Slow at first, then steadily accelerating.

The crew attempted to counteract the motion with the engine, reversing thrust and adjusting controls, but the effect was minimal. The ship continued to be dragged forward as though an unseen force had taken full control of its direction.

The engine roared under strain, yet the movement did not stabilize.

On deck, panic began to spread. They tried to release the net, but the tension in the lines only grew stronger, locking everything into place.

Fear replaced confusion.

None of their instruments indicated anything large enough to justify what was happening. Whatever was pulling them did not match anything they knew from experience.

Then, just as abruptly as it began, the force changed.

It surged once more, then vanished entirely.

The net loosened. The ship drifted forward under its own remaining momentum before gradually slowing to a stop.

The ocean fell silent again.

The crew stood frozen, drenched in sweat and seawater, staring at the calm surface as if it might reveal an answer. The sonar displayed nothing unusual. No large object. No trace of what had just happened.

Only emptiness remained beneath them.

After a long silence, they began checking the vessel. The engine had suffered damage during the strain, leaving them unable to maneuver properly.

A heavy unease settled over them.

Eventually, they decided to call for assistance. Remaining in restricted waters without propulsion was far too dangerous, and whatever had pulled them earlier was beyond their understanding.

They prepared their communication equipment in silence, still unsettled, confirming their position and situation.

The sea around them remained calm, almost indifferent, as if nothing had occurred at all.

But none of them felt any sense of relief staying there.