Chapter 1: Death (1)

"Huff, huff, huff." Panting echoed through the dense jungle. Trees towered everywhere, their thick canopy almost entirely blotting out the sky, leaving only a narrow sliver through which the moonlight filtered.

A man sprinted through the underbrush, his movements precise and controlled, like a predator on the hunt. This was Scott, a highly trained operative. He slipped behind a tree, holding his breath as voices pierced the stillness.

"Where did he go? FIND HIM!"

"Split up and search every corner of this jungle. I want him dead!"

The voices faded, and Scott emerged from his hiding place, moving in the direction the men had taken. He was a shadow in the night, silently eliminating each man with a swift slice to the throat. Despite the carnage, not a sound escaped; Scott's exceptional skills ensured it. He was the special forces' greatest warrior.

After confirming that all but one of his targets were dead, Scott advanced toward the last man, eager to end this mission and return to his family—his wife and newborn daughter. Under the dark sky, he approached the final target from behind, his dagger ready. Just as he was about to strike, the man, who had been giving orders earlier and was the leader of the terrorist organization, sensed him and dodged.

"It's you!" the target exclaimed, eyes wide with fear.

Scott narrowed his eyes. "You're different, aren't you? The others couldn't resist in the slightest, but you managed to dodge."

The target's horror deepened as he realized the truth. "The others... you mean my men are dead?"

Scott's silence was answer enough. Panic surged through the target.

'I need to run. This guy is a monster. Although those idiots weren't as strong as me, they were still good. And he just killed them all. I need to escape, NOW!'

He turned to flee, but Scott sighed. "You should've just died without dodging. You're making me late to my family."

Scott moved with inhuman speed, appearing in front of the fleeing man. With a swift motion, his dagger sliced through the target's throat. The body crumpled to the ground.

"It's finally over," Scott murmured, sheathing his dagger. "I finally killed the organization. Now I can leave this life behind and live with my family."

A smile tugged at Scott's lips as he thought of his wife and daughter. He made his way to the rendezvous point, where a camp had been set up. Soldiers in military outfits clustered around campfires, their conversations halting as Scott approached. They watched him with a mixture of awe and fear.

Scott ignored the murmurs and headed for a specific tent. He entered without knocking. Inside, a middle-aged man with a scar running across his right eye sat with his legs propped on a table.

"Report," the man said simply.

"They're all dead. What about your end?" Scott replied.

The man nodded, unsurprised. "We've finished dealing with them as well. From this day forward, the Dawn terrorist organization is no more. Thanks to you."

Scott shrugged off the gratitude. "Now that everything's finished, this will be our last time seeing each other. I'd like for you to arrange transportation back home as quickly as possible."

The only thing on Scott's mind was returning to his family. Although he was content with the thought of a peaceful life, he couldn't deny his love for fighting. The thrill of combat and the rush of adrenaline were addictive. But for his family's sake, he had to give it up.

As Scott left the tent, the middle-aged man watched him go, a smirk playing on his lips.