The night after Tondo, the city buzzed with whispers. A nameless avenger had slaughtered a gang, leaving only silence and the smell of gunpowder. Some said it was vigilantes, others swore it was police. But on the ground, the people of Tondo whispered another word with trembling reverence:
"The Ghost."
Miguel had stayed hidden, slipping back into his role as faceless commander. But the System was merciless. Every action echoed, every strike stirred waves. And in those waves, enemies stirred.
In a smoky villa in Cavite, cartel lieutenants gathered, rage sharp in their voices.
"Escueta's gone. Now Tondo? Someone's cutting us piece by piece."
"They say it's cops, special forces—"
"No," one snapped, slamming his fist on the table. "Cops don't move like that. This is personal."
Their solution was as old as fear itself: retaliation.
"If he wants shadows, let's drag him into the light. Hit the streets. Hit the people. Make him bleed through them."
That night, vans with blacked-out windows rolled into Manila.
Miguel heard the first explosion from miles away. His comms lit up as reports poured in.
"Commander, multiple firebombings in Tondo. Civilians hit."
"Gang-linked shooters targeting sari-sari stores. Innocents down."
"They're making it public, sir. Media's already swarming."
Miguel clenched his jaw, fury boiling in his chest. This was no longer just about power or control. The cartel was bleeding the people to bait him out.
Echo One's voice cut through: "Orders, Commander? Do we deploy full force?"
Miguel stared at the flickering screen before him — maps lit with chaos, dots marking fresh blood spilled. Every instinct screamed for vengeance. But he knew the risk. The more noise the Ghost Army made, the closer the government's eyes would come.
His choice was razor-thin.
"Deploy," Miguel said finally. His voice was calm, steel in every word. "But make it clean. No insignia. No trace. The Ghost doesn't exist."
"Yes, sir."
That night, Black Hawks thundered over Manila. Armored Humvees rolled silently through narrow streets. From the shadows, the Ghost Army moved black-clad, unmarked, precise.
Miguel was with them.
They hit the first cartel van as it screeched around a corner, armed men leaning out with rifles. A burst from Miguel's carbine shredded the windshield. The van spun out, slamming into a concrete barrier. Miguel was already moving, dragging civilians clear as Alpha Squad swept the wreck.
He fought like a man possessed. His upgraded body moved faster than fear, his reflexes sharper than thought. He was everywhere — pulling a child from gunfire, dropping a gunman with a single precise shot, breaking a cartel enforcer's arm before he could reload.
The Ghost was not rumor tonight. He was flesh and fury.
When dawn came, the streets of Tondo were eerily quiet. The cartel's retaliation force was gone either dead, captured, or vanished into the night. Civilians whispered of black figures who descended like shadows, of a masked man who moved like a soldier from a different world.
But for Miguel, victory carried a weight.
News reports exploded:
"Armed Vigilantes Save Civilians in Manila."
"Government Denies Links to Secret Strike Team."
"Who is the Ghost in the City?"
The legend had grown — faster, louder, more dangerous.
Inside the FOB, Miguel removed his mask, sweat still clinging to his skin. He stared at the news ticker on his monitor.
Echo One entered quietly. "Commander. You saved lives. The people see you as a protector now."
Miguel didn't answer at first. He knew what came next. Every strike made him a savior to the people, but also a target for the state.
Finally, he spoke, voice low:
"They're calling me a ghost. But ghosts don't last long under the sun."
The System pulsed in his mind, calm and cold:
[New Threat Unlocked: Government Counter-Intelligence Division is now monitoring Ghost Army activity.]
Miguel leaned back, eyes narrowing.
The cartel had struck and failed. But now, another enemy was watching.
The real war was only beginning.