The Fake Son Wants to Live [BL]
Chapter 200 - Blaring alarms

Chapter 200: Chapter 200 - Blaring alarms

The massive mother ship moved slowly and steadily toward the yawning mouth of the black hole. Outside the reinforced viewpanels of the command center, the swirling vortex loomed larger with each passing moment. It was like watching the universe hold its breath—the edge of space itself seeming to stretch and bend as the gravitational monster pulled at light and matter alike. The stars nearby shimmered and warped unnaturally. Everything about the scene was both majestic and terrifying.

Dican sat silently in the command chair, his hands neatly folded over his lap, but his eyes betrayed the turmoil swirling within. Notification chimes kept flickering on his interface screen, each one marked with the insignia of his elder brother. Another call. Another demand.

But Bian, sitting beside him with a languid, unreadable look, simply gestured at the screen with a flick of his hand.

"Reject it," he said flatly.

Dican hesitated for only a breath before doing exactly that, reaching out and silencing the call. The buzzing stopped. But the weight in his chest only grew heavier.

Bian leaned back in his seat and turned his eyes toward the portable communicator resting on the side table—the one Dican had gifted him weeks ago in a soft, private moment. Now it glowed faintly, showing the call history, recent messages, even the organizational details of the Farian royal court. All neatly visible with just a tap.

And Bian had been tapping.

He sat there now, gazing coldly at the details of the Farian hierarchy. His fingers lazily flicked through ranks, titles, political branches—until he stopped on Dican’s name.

A tightness formed around his temples.

So this was it? This was the truth?

Dican’s position was weak. In fact, laughably so. His elder brother had already been granted prime influence at the court. Even Xing Yu—a former servant, no less—held more military command and royal clearance than Dican did.

Bian’s lips twisted bitterly.

This man is just a paper tiger... A prince in name!

He turned his eyes toward Dican, who was now quietly reviewing ship diagnostics, doing everything he could to keep composed. Bian watched him intensely—every little twitch, every trace of discomfort, every quiet sigh.

Darn it... I thought he might have some influence at least. Even the crew members keep ignoring his orders and questioning him behind his back.

He clenched his jaw, rubbing at his temples in frustration.

It had started earlier, when he’d demanded that the humans—his grandfather and that insufferably loud child—be locked in their room and watched around the clock. His orders had been clear. Harsh, maybe. But simple.

Yet when he’d gone to check in on them earlier... the room had been empty.

No child.

No old man.

Gone.

And when he’d furiously confronted Dican and demanded action, what had he received? An excuse.

The crew had refused to investigate.

Refused!

They’d muttered something vague about new orders coming from the imperial court. Something about keeping the humans safe until the transfer to the First Prince’s fleet. Apparently, the command had higher clearance than Dican himself.

That had shut everything down.

And Dican... Dican hadn’t fought back. He hadn’t raised his voice. He’d just bowed his head and accepted it with a sigh.

Useless! Bian’s fingers dug into the armrest. Fucking useless!

His eyes burned into the endless dark outside the ship, the view of the black hole a mirror to the void beginning to gnaw at his mind.

What use is this guy to me?! His mind raced with fury. He can’t control his crew. He can’t counter a single order. He doesn’t even have authority over this tin can ship! Why the hell is he even a prince, huh?! What is the use of being a fucking prince if you can’t even command your own people!?

He slammed his fist into the console beside him, the sharp clang drawing a startled glance from a nearby crew member. But no one spoke. No one dared.

Dican, still sitting quietly, turned his head slightly in concern. "Bian..."

"Don’t," Bian cut him off, not even looking at him. "Don’t say anything."

The command center fell into an awkward silence, the hum of the engines and the steady beep of navigation instruments the only noise filling the void between them.

Suddenly, a sharp blaring noise pierced the air, shrill and jarring. The lights across the command deck instantly flashed a deep, alarming red, bathing every surface in a sinister hue. Bian jolted upright, his chest seizing in panic as he looked around wildly. The normally composed crew broke into immediate motion, abandoning their posts to scramble across panels and input commands with frantic urgency.

"What’s happening?!" Bian shouted, heart thundering in his ears. "What is that sound?!"

Beside him, Dican’s face—normally soft with restrained emotion—hardened in a snap. His pitiful expression from earlier evaporated as his voice rang out sharp and commanding.

"Deploy the shields! We’re under attack!" he shouted.

"Under attack?!" Bian gasped.

As if to answer, the entire mother ship shuddered violently beneath them, the metallic groan of the frame echoing up through the floor. Bian stumbled forward, grabbing onto the edge of the console for balance. His legs felt weak beneath him. Then, without even thinking, he reached out and clutched Dican’s hand, gripping it tight as though it was the only thing grounding him.

The ship trembled again. And then—through the forward glass of the command deck—they saw it.

A colossal shape began to emerge, slowly tearing itself out of the edge of the black hole they’d been nearing.

The sight was monstrous.

A sleek, obsidian-black vessel, enormous in size, shaped uncannily like the head of some deep-sea squid, its front glistening with sharp protrusions and dozens of glowing red eyes. It seemed to swim forward without propulsion, as if the black hole itself had spat it out—an abomination born from the void.

Bian’s blood ran cold.

Yes, he had seen Grayling ships before. Back on Earth, the things that had haunted his nights and chased him through fire and destruction were already terrifying. But this...

This was something entirely different.

This wasn’t just an enemy ship. It was a harbinger.

An executioner.

The floor lurched again as the impact of a nearby hit rocked them violently. Screams erupted from the lower levels through the comms. Somewhere down the hall, a pipe burst, sending steam hissing into the air.

The red alert sirens howled louder.

"Maximise the shield to starboard side!" Dican roared, standing now, taking full command as he pointed toward the navigation officer. "Do not let them penetrate our upper hull!"

"Yes, your highness!"

Bian could barely breathe. Around him, soldiers were dashing across the room, some slipping in their haste, others barking codes and coordinates into their communicators. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking. His heart felt like it was trying to beat out of his chest. And still—he clung to Dican’s hand as though letting go would mean falling into that terrifying vortex outside.

That ship—it was still coming.

Still emerging.

And every inch of it screamed death.

He was trembling now, staring at it through the window, his mind racing with a thousand fears. What is that thing? Why was it waiting in the black hole? How are we even supposed to fight something like that?

No answer came.

Only another shudder, another scream of impact, another warning blaring across the bridge.

But above it all, Dican’s voice cut through—steadfast and clear.

"Prepare to engage evasive maneuvers! We will not be taken down here!"