...
The Elites vanished into the shadows once again, their speed far beyond the perception of ordinary eyes. Silence lingered for only a moment before the night erupted with violence.
A faint whistle cut through the air, then—
Slash!
A towering tree, once thick enough to take decades of growth, split cleanly in half. Its trunk collapsed with a thunderous crash, leaves scattering like confetti into the air. Along with it, three masked men hidden in its branches fell lifelessly, their bodies severed into pieces before they even realized what had struck them. Blood sprayed across the forest floor, painting the grass crimson.
One of the Elites landed softly among the wreckage, their blade dripping with fresh blood. Without pause, he shot forward again, his figure blurring into nothingness.
...
Further out, a squad crouched in the undergrowth, missile launchers poised on their shoulders. Their faces were tense, sweat dripping down their brows as they whispered to one another.
"On my mark, fire at the mansion—"
Before the order could finish, a streak of light flashed past them.
Shhk!
The launcher and the man holding it were split neatly down the middle, halves falling in opposite directions. The others had no time to react. Another Elite emerged from the shadows behind them, his blade moving in an elegant yet merciless arc. Heads toppled, blood sprayed, and limbs scattered. Explosives detonated in their fallen grip, setting the grass ablaze with a fiery bloom. The Elite stepped out of the flames unscathed, eyes cold, before vanishing once again.
...
A few hundred meters away, a group of gunmen had dug trenches and mounted heavy machine guns, their barrels aimed at the villa. "Prepare to fire!" the captain barked, teeth clenched in determination.
But before his finger could pull the trigger, the air shimmered in front of them.
"Wha—"
Crack!
The Elite's blade carved through the steel of the mounted gun as though it were paper, slicing both weapon and wielder apart in a single motion. Bullets exploded out of the ammo belts, tearing into the very men who had loaded them seconds before. Screams filled the air as the rest of the squad scrambled, but they were cut down instantly—blades piercing through their throats and chests with merciless precision.
In less than ten breaths, dozens lay in pools of blood, their ambush reduced to silence.
...
Farther along the ridgeline, snipers positioned themselves with high-powered rifles, scopes gleaming under the faint moonlight.
"Target in sight… steady… fire."
But the bullet never left the chamber. One sniper suddenly felt a chill on his neck. He glanced to the side—only to see the faint glint of a blade sliding past his throat. His head toppled, rolling against the rifle that fired uselessly into the sky.
His comrades panicked, trying to swing their rifles, but their scopes only caught brief flashes of silver light before everything went dark. One by one, their cameras dropped to the ground, the last image recorded being their own blood pooling beneath them.
...
All around the perimeter, chaos reigned. Groups armed with explosives were dismembered before they could even activate their detonators. Grenades rolled from severed hands, only to detonate amidst their own allies. Mortar teams were shredded, their weapons destroyed before a single shell could be fired. Every squadron, every ambush, every carefully placed trap—none of it mattered. The Elites carved through them like predators among sheep, their speed and precision turning the battlefield into a slaughterhouse.
Within minutes, hundreds of trained assassins were reduced to broken corpses littering the earth. Not a single one managed to breach the walls of Zastan's mansion.
...
Meanwhile, in the dark headquarters of Dragon Talon abroad, silence filled the vast round chamber.
One by one, the countless screens on the massive wall began to flicker. Each feed, once filled with soldiers aiming their weapons, now showed only chaos—blades flashing, blood spraying, then blackness as the cameras cut off.
"Impossible…" one figure muttered, his metallic arm twitching. "They're… they're being wiped out like insects."
The seductive-voiced woman who had spoken earlier stared in disbelief, her lips trembling. "Hundreds of our men… annihilated in minutes…"
Another, a hulking figure with glowing scars across his skin, slammed his fist against the table. "This isn't the strength of mere S-ranks! Those… those monsters…"
As more screens died out, dread settled over the council.
Finally, only a handful of feeds remained. On one of them, the image shook violently as if the man holding the camera was being dragged. His ragged breath filled the audio, mixed with the sound of something heavy scraping across the dirt.
The camera shifted, showing a bloody hand gripping the ground, desperate to resist. But it was useless. He was being pulled.
The screen tilted upward.
Standing over the corpse was Zastan himself. His figure was illuminated faintly under the moonlight, a smug smile tugging at his lips. He crouched down, brushing dirt from the lens of the body camera with casual ease. His eyes locked directly onto the council watching from afar.
"Didn't expect this, did you?" he said, his tone mocking, almost playful.
The seductive woman gasped, trembling. "He… he knows we're watching…"
"Zoom in!" one of the dark figures barked. The screen magnified Zastan's face, his confident smile filling the display.
Zastan tilted his head slightly, his voice dripping with arrogance. "Dragon Talon… you still haven't learned your lesson. Sending your dogs after me will only end with this."
Then he leaned closer, his grin widening as his eyes gleamed with murderous intent.
"You should've stayed in the shadows."
...
The council chamber trembled in silence as Zastan's mocking words echoed from the screen. One by one, the final feeds blinked out—darkness swallowing every last soldier who had been sent to the mansion.
The seductive-voiced woman's confidence shattered. Her hands trembled as she gripped the edge of the table, her eyes wide. "Th-this isn't possible. We sent four SS-ranks, one of them at the peak… they should have been more than enough. So why—why are they being slaughtered so easily?"
Another shadowed figure leaned forward, his mechanical arm clenching so hard the steel creaked. His voice shook with disbelief. "Those two… those two aren't just S- or SS-level. Their strength—no… it's beyond that."
The room grew colder as realization dawned. One of the more scholarly figures, thin and frail, whispered almost fearfully. "SS-rank…? No. Their speed, their destructive power, their sheer aura… It matches the records of SSS-ranked combatants."
A heavy silence fell. Even among Dragon Talon, SSS-ranked individuals were legends—monsters that existed above nations, each capable of devastating entire armies alone. To say that Zastan, a single man, possessed two beings of that caliber under his command was beyond terrifying.
"This… this can't be…" the woman murmured, her seductive voice now quivering.
"Enough."
The deep, rumbling voice silenced them all. It came from the figure seated at the head of the round table.
The leader slowly rose from his chair. Unlike the others, he hadn't shown any reaction until now. His figure towered above the rest, broad-shouldered and wrapped in a cloak that seemed to writhe with shadows. The faint light revealed sharp features carved like stone, eyes glowing faintly crimson.
A suffocating aura burst forth, pressing down on the entire chamber. The thick air shook, the cameras on the walls flickering as though afraid of the presence that now dominated the room.
"Tricked," the leader growled, his voice dripping with venom. "We were tricked… by a boy."
He slammed his palm on the table, the solid steel bending under his hand as cracks spread across its surface. A wave of killing intent swept through the hall, forcing even the other high-ranking members to avert their eyes.
"He lured us in. He knew we were watching. And he revealed those two monsters deliberately."
The seductive woman forced herself to speak, her tone weak. "Leader… what do we do? If those two are truly SSS-ranked…"
The leader's crimson eyes blazed, fury and excitement mixed in their depths. "Then we adapt. If he wants war… then Dragon Talon will give him war. Even if I must move personally."
The remaining screens flickered, and one stubborn feed still remained active. The image shook violently as the corpse's camera was dragged further across the dirt. The hand holding it twitched weakly, then fell limp.
The camera tilted upward again—this time focusing entirely on Zastan's face. He wiped the lens clean with the back of his hand, smiling smugly as though he had been waiting for this very moment.
"You didn't expect this, did you?" Zastan said, his voice calm yet brimming with mockery. He crouched closer until his eyes nearly filled the feed. "Two SSS-ranks, loyal only to me. Did you really think your petty assassins stood a chance?"
The leader snarled, his voice shaking the room. "Zastan Miles…"
Zastan chuckled lowly, tapping the dead soldier's camera with his finger. "I'll come for you soon enough. Until then… enjoy the show."
The feed cut to black.
For a long moment, only silence filled the chamber. Then the leader's aura erupted once more, stronger than ever. The walls groaned, the table cracked in half, and several weaker council members fell to their knees, coughing blood from the sheer pressure.
"Prepare everything," he commanded, his voice thunderous. "Zastan Miles has declared war on Dragon Talon. And I will tear him apart with my own hands."
The council trembled—not just from the leader's rage, but from the chilling truth.
...