The white dragon didn't linger to admire its handiwork. With a deafening roar that vibrated in the very marrow of Vance's bones, it beat its massive wings, sending a localized blizzard of snow and salt spray across the deck.
As the beast began to ascend, Xavier moved with the practiced precision of a man who had hunted monsters before. He hoisted a customized tactical launcher to his shoulder, his scarred eye squinting down the thermal scope. He waited for the precise moment the creature pivoted in the air.
Thwip.
The pressurized hiss was barely audible over the chaos, but the aim was true. The specialized tracker dart, tipped with a micro-burr, buried itself deep into the softer, pale scales of the dragon's inner right thigh. The creature let out a sharp, high-pitched shriek—less of pain and more of pure, indignant fury.
It didn't turn back for Xavier. Instead, it banked toward a nearby Australian navy ship that had moved in to assist. The dragon's jaw unhinged, and a globule of that strange, pastel pink and baby blue fire condensed in its throat. It launched the fireball like a mortar round.
The impact was instantaneous. The Australian vessel's midsection turned into a molten crater of glowing colors before the secondary explosions tore it apart. Without a backward glance, the white dragon surged upward, piercing the cloud layer and vanishing into the vast, grey Antarctic sky.
"Dammit!" Xavier slammed his fist against the cold steel railing, his face contorted in a mask of pure rage. The loss of life was staggering, and the predator had escaped.
"Commander, I've already signaled the recovery bird," Vance shouted, his fingers flying over a handheld tactical pad. "Rescue Helicopter Scylla-1 is on approach. They were already in the air for pursuit."
The heavy thump-thump of rotor blades soon drowned out the groaning ice. The helicopter descended, its winch cables ready even before the skids touched the vibrating deck. Xavier, Vance, and a handful of the surviving tactical team scrambled aboard, their movements frantic but disciplined.
As the doors slid shut, sealing out the freezing howling wind, Xavier grabbed the head of the pilot's seat. His voice was a low, dangerous growl that silenced the entire cabin.
"Forget the ships. The tracker is live and pinging," Xavier barked. "Get us to the transport jet. We're heading back to the source. Set a direct course for Blackstar Strategic Headquarters in Chesterfield, Missouri. We're going to find out exactly what we just woke up."
The helicopter banked hard, leaving the burning wreckage and the shattered ice behind, chasing a signal that was already halfway across the globe.