Night fell quickly over the forest.
The smell of smoke from the explosion still lingered in the air, but the wind was already pulling it away. Elias, Grimm, and Ash moved like shadows among the dead trees, following tracks only the keenest eyes could see.
They didn't return to the road.
West, where Elias had sent the prisoners, was far behind. Now they were heading north — following footprints that led into darker grounds.
Grimm sniffed the earth with precision. Ash stayed close to Elias, body tense, ears pricked, eyes glinting in the gloom. Elias kept his rifle low, ready.
The world felt quieter than normal.Even the insects seemed to have given up singing.
They climbed a rocky slope tangled with twisted roots. At the top, Elias paused, scanning the terrain.
Below stretched a natural clearing surrounded by burnt-out trunks.In the center — an old structure, maybe a military outpost from the war. Half-collapsed, but still enough for shelter.
And there... lights.
Campfires flickering, poorly hidden.
Elias crouched.
"They're overconfident," he whispered to Grimm and Ash.
Too confident for their own good.
At least a dozen figures moved among the ruins. Armed men pacing, and several figures kneeling at the center — prisoners, hands bound.
Elias's blood boiled.
This wasn't survival.It was domination. Slavery.
Grimm growled low. Ash stiffened.
"Not yet," Elias murmured. "First, we find who's leading this."
He pulled out compact binoculars and scanned.
In the center of the camp stood a man.Tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a black leather coat with rusted metal plates on the shoulders. On his chest — the symbol of the New Order, slashed over with red paint.
Traitor.
It wasn't uncommon.
Some former Order members had splintered off, building their own kingdoms in the ruins.
Elias frowned.
He knew that face.
Mason Coyle.Former captain of the New Order's security.
And now, apparently, a slaver.
Elias breathed deep, calculating.A direct assault would be suicide.Waiting for reinforcements? Impossible. He was the reinforcements.
He needed a distraction. Something big.
Scanning the camp, he spotted it:Stacked against the broken wall were large crates — munitions, maybe old fuel storage.
Elias smiled coldly.
He had his plan.
He signaled Grimm and Ash.
"We split," he whispered. "Meet at the center."
The dogs obeyed instantly.
Elias circled silently, slipping through the dark like a shadow. Every step precise. Deadly.
Time was short.
If he could ignite those crates, he could create the chaos needed to free the prisoners... or die trying.
Halfway through his approach, he heard voices.
"Careful. They say something's out there..." one guard muttered, looking nervously at the trees.
The other laughed.
"A ghost? Please. If it was real, we'd have killed it by now."
Elias smiled in the dark.
If they wanted to meet a ghost, he'd make sure he was the last thing they ever saw.
He reached the crates.
Pulled a small homemade grenade from his belt — crafted from old parts and gunpowder.
Pulled the pin.
Tossed.
Time froze.
The grenade bounced against the crates.One of the guards turned — too late.
BOOM.
The explosion wasn't massive, but enough.The crates ignited instantly, flames devouring half the camp.
Screams. Chaos.
Elias moved like a phantom.One shot. Two. Targets fell before they could even react.
Grimm attacked from the shadows, dragging a man down. Ash struck like a knife, biting another.
Within minutes, the camp was collapsing.
Elias cut the prisoners' bonds.
A little girl — tangled hair, wide eyes — looked at him like he was something out of a dream.
Elias only said:
"Head west. Find the old station. You'll be safe there."
The adults hesitated, but the girl pulled them.She knew — sometimes, trusting a ghost was the only hope left.
Elias watched them vanish into the trees.
Then turned to Grimm and Ash.
"Let's move. It's not over yet."
Through the smoke and burning ruins, he saw him — Mason Coyle — staring straight at Elias, eyes wide with recognition.
Coyle shouted:
"That's him! The immortal!"
Before Elias could react, Coyle pulled something from his belt.Not a gun.
A transmitter.
Elias's stomach twisted.
Reinforcements.
In minutes, more would be coming.This time, they'd be ready for him.
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