MEMORY OF THE BATTLE

The dim glow of the overhead lights cast long shadows across the secure bunker. Solomon Kane sat alone in the armory, his combat vest still on, the weight of the past mission pressing down on him like a phantom grip. The faint hum of distant conversation in the base barely registered—his mind was elsewhere.

He closed his eyes, exhaling sharply. The memories flooded back.

The roar of gunfire, the heat of the explosions, and the unrelenting presence of Ghost—a shadow that refused to be outmaneuvered. It hadn't been just a fight. It had been a test. Every strike, every shot, every move—Ghost had been learning, adapting, calculating.

Solomon's fists clenched. He could still feel the weight of his knife clashing against Ghost's blade, the near-misses of his enemy’s gunfire, the way the air had been ripped apart by their relentless exchange. And then—the explosions, the collapsing structure, the desperate escape.

He opened his eyes, his breath steady but cold.

Ghost hadn’t just fought him. Ghost had studied him.

And that realization sent a slow-burning fury through Solomon’s veins.

FLASHBACK

The industrial complex burned behind them, casting an eerie glow against the cold night sky. The extraction team was moving fast, carrying Carlos through the escape route. Vikram and Jamie covered their flank, firing short, precise bursts at the remaining Specter operatives trying to box them in.

But Solomon Kane wasn’t running.

He turned back toward the collapsing building.

Because Ghost was still inside.

The comms crackled. “Solomon! We need to go!” Jamie’s voice was urgent, but she knew him too well.

He didn’t reply. Instead, he tightened his grip on his rifle and disappeared into the smoke.

FACE TO FACE WITH DEATH

Inside the ruined complex, the flames twisted through the hallways like serpents, licking at the steel supports. Explosions rocked the foundation, sending showers of concrete and metal cascading from above.

And in the center of it all, standing in the flickering light of a crumbling corridor, was Ghost.

He stood with his back to a cracked support beam, his sniper rifle discarded, replaced by a combat knife in one hand and a silenced pistol in the other.

“You always have to be the hero,” Ghost taunted, his voice calm even through the chaos. “You should’ve left while you had the chance.”

Solomon exhaled, rolling his shoulders, stepping forward like a predator sizing up his prey. “Not until I finish this.”

Without another word, Ghost moved.

He lunged, his knife flashing toward Solomon’s ribs in a lethal arc. Solomon barely sidestepped, feeling the air shift as the blade sliced past. He countered with a brutal elbow strike, but Ghost was already twisting away, snapping his silenced pistol up—

BANG.

Solomon jerked his head at the last second, the bullet grazing past his cheek instead of piercing his skull. Too close. He grabbed Ghost’s wrist, twisting it sharply. Ghost let go of the gun, but in the same motion, he brought his knife up toward Solomon’s throat.

Solomon blocked, catching the knife between his forearm and bicep, but Ghost was fast—he slammed a knee into Solomon’s ribs, making him stagger.

Ghost was good.

No, he was better than good.

INFERNO CLOSING IN

Overhead, the ceiling groaned as the structural supports gave way. The whole building was coming down.

Ghost pivoted, pressing the attack. He lashed out with a precise, calculated series of slashes and thrusts, forcing Solomon backward toward the roaring flames.

Solomon deflected the blows, feeling the heat against his back. Time was running out. He needed to end this—now.

Ghost feinted left, then spun right, aiming for Solomon’s kidney.

But this time, Solomon was ready.

He caught Ghost’s wrist mid-strike, twisted it violently, and sent the knife clattering away.

Ghost barely had time to react before Solomon drove a brutal headbutt into his face. The masked operative stumbled back, dazed for the first time.

Solomon didn’t hesitate. He grabbed Ghost by the vest and slammed him through a half-broken doorway.

Ghost hit the floor hard, but even as he landed, he reached for another concealed weapon—

Solomon kicked the pistol out of his grip. “Enough.”

Ghost coughed, slowly pushing himself up. His visor was cracked

, revealing a single eye beneath the shattered glass. A human eye.

For the first time, Solomon saw not just the assassin—but the man underneath.

“Who are you?” Solomon demanded.

Ghost’s breathing was ragged, but he still chuckled. “You think that matters?”

A distant explosion rocked the building. Flames erupted along the hallway, racing toward them.

It was over.

Ghost exhaled slowly. Then he smiled—not in defeat, but in triumph.

“You’re out of time.”

Solomon’s eyes flicked upward.

A small, blinking detonator light was embedded in the collapsing ceiling.

The whole place was rigged to blow.

A DESPERATE ESCAPE

Solomon moved on instinct. He grabbed Ghost and hurled him backward. The masked assassin hit the ground hard, skidding across the floor.

A fireball erupted where he had just stood, the explosion swallowing the hallway in a blinding inferno.

No sign of Ghost.

But Solomon had no time to check.

He turned and sprinted through the collapsing corridor as the detonations ripped the building apart.

BOOM.

Concrete shattered. Steel buckled. The world became fire and debris.

Solomon barely made it to the eastern exit

, hurling himself through a shattered window a split second before the entire facility collapsed in on itself.

EXTRACTION

Jamie and Vikram were already in the evac Transport Helicopter, waiting. Carlos sat beside them, weak but alive.

Jamie spotted Solomon first. “There he is! Go, go, go!”

The Transport Helicopter’s side door was already open. Solomon ran, his boots pounding against the dirt as the shockwave from the final explosion sent a wall of smoke and fire rolling after him.

He leaped—grabbing the outstretched hand of Vikram—as the Transport Helicopter pulled up.

The moment he was aboard, the craft banked hard, racing away from the inferno below.

Jamie helped Solomon to his feet. “You look like hell.”

Solomon exhaled sharply, wiping soot and blood from his face. “I feel worse.”

Vikram crossed his arms. “Did you get him?”

Solomon stared out the open door. The ruined facility was now nothing but a smoldering crater.

Ghost was nowhere in sight.

After a long moment, Solomon muttered, “No. But this isn’t over.”

EPILOGUE: A SHADOW IN THE SMOKE

Several miles away, hidden in the thick forests of Slovakia, a lone figure staggered through the trees. His black tactical suit was scorched, his movements unsteady.

Ghost reached up, unclasping what remained of his broken helmet.

With a sharp pull, he removed the cracked visor, tossing it to the dirt.

For the first time in years, he stood unmasked under the pale moonlight.

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest as he wiped the blood from his split lip.

Solomon Kane had pushed him to his limit.

Good.

Because next time, he would return the favor.

Ghost stepped forward, disappearing into the night.

The hunt was far from over.