The city never slept, not really. Neon lights flickered over the streets of Tondo, where shadows swallowed alleys and gangs thrived in the absence of law. It was here that Miguel decided to test his new body — away from his squads, away from command screens.
For the first time since his rebirth, he would walk into the dark alone.
The System had marked a target: a drug enclave in Tondo run by Escueta's surviving lieutenants. A dozen men guarded the labyrinthine shanties, their operations small but vicious — peddling drugs, extorting locals, killing anyone who resisted.
Miguel stood on a rooftop, night air cool against his skin. His senses buzzed. He could hear conversations two blocks away, smell the sharp tang of gun oil from below. Every nerve was alive, every instinct sharp.
He whispered to himself, testing the memory now etched into his mind: "Silent entry. Clear rooms. Prioritize weapons over bodies." It wasn't just knowledge. It was muscle memory — like he had trained for years.
The Ghost Army was sleeping. Tonight, it was just Miguel.
He moved.
From rooftop to rooftop, he leapt with feline precision, his legs coiled with strength. The enhanced body made each motion fluid, effortless. When he dropped from a ledge, he landed without a sound, crouched like a predator.
The first guard slouched at a shanty's corner, cigarette glowing red. Miguel slipped behind him, arm snapping around his throat. One precise twist — the man collapsed silently.
He dragged the body into shadow, then advanced deeper.
Two guards by the main shack were laughing, arguing over money. Miguel slid close, rifle raised. Two suppressed shots whispered through the night. Both fell, heads snapping back.
He entered the shack.
Inside, the air was thick with smoke. A flickering bulb illuminated a table stacked with pistols and sachets of white powder. Four men sat, playing cards. They barely looked up before Miguel opened fire — each shot a clean, surgical strike. Heads slammed against the table, cards scattering.
He reloaded without thought. Smooth. Automatic. Like second nature.
Movement behind him — another guard rushing from a side door with a machete. Miguel pivoted, parried the strike with his rifle, then drove a fist into the man's chest. The guard flew back, crashing into a wall, wind knocked out. One kick finished him.
Miguel paused, heart steady, breath calm. He was a storm moving through silence.
The last of the gang heard the gunfire. Panic erupted in the courtyard as they scrambled for weapons. Miguel kicked the shack's door open, stepping into the open.
"Who the hell—" one shouted, but his words cut short as Miguel's rifle spat fire. He moved like a machine, bullets finding targets with impossible precision. One dove for cover — Miguel flanked, rolled, and dropped him before he could aim.
Another charged with a shotgun. Miguel sidestepped, seized the weapon, and smashed the stock into the man's face. Bone cracked, blood sprayed.
The courtyard was silent within minutes. Bodies littered the dirt. Smoke drifted from Miguel's barrel.
He stood tall, unshaken. His squad would have taken thirty men for this. He had done it alone.
As he prepared to leave, an old woman emerged from the shanties, clutching a rosary. Her eyes went wide at the sight of the fallen gangsters, then turned to him.
"You… you saved us," she whispered, voice trembling.
Miguel froze. He hadn't expected witnesses. His instinct screamed to vanish, but her eyes held only gratitude.
"Tell no one," Miguel said, voice low.
The woman nodded, tears streaming. "The shadows protect us now."
Miguel slipped back into the night, vanishing before she could say more.
Back at the FOB, he cleaned his rifle in silence. His muscles still hummed with energy, his senses sharp. For the first time, he felt what it meant to be more than human — commander, soldier, and executioner in one.
The System's voice returned:
[Solo Operation Complete.]
[Performance: Exceptional.]
[Bonus Reward: Stealth Drone Unit Unlocked.]
Miguel leaned back, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "So now the shadows have eyes."
But he knew this was only the beginning. His enemies would soon realize they weren't just fighting faceless squads. They were fighting a phantom who could walk into their dens alone and leave only silence behind.