There were only a handful of fighters in the world who could match him, and now this old man had an army of them.
Who the hell is he? Hunter wondered, but he didn’t waste time on the thought.
He gripped his weapon tighter and moved in silence.
The seven advanced down the tunnel, unaware that death stalked them from behind.
One by one, Hunter struck—quick, precise, merciless. A silenced shot. A knife across the throat.
A shadow disappearing before another could even turn his head.
Within minutes, the mercenaries began to fall, leaving only their broken bodies in the dark.
Hunter had managed to engage four of them, but the remaining ones slipped away while he was locked in combat.
On the other side, Knight and the others were moving steadily toward the direction of the port.
Though he had the full blueprint of the island and the cave system, there was no detailed route marked inside these tunnels.
Now, he could only rely on his instincts and dexterity.
He had faced countless situations like this before—missions with Luna that pushed him to the edge, where every second decided life or death.
Some escapes had seemed impossible, yet they always made it out.
Remembering those moments, Knight’s focus sharpened.
He wouldn’t fail now—not when lives depended on him.
After walking for nearly twenty minutes, the tunnel ahead began to brighten.
A faint ray of sunlight broke through the cracks, and the distant sound of waves crashing against the rocks echoed from the north.
Knight lifted his torch higher, eyes narrowing as relief washed over him.
"We’re close," he said quietly, turning to the people behind him.
"That’s the exit. Once we reach the shore, you’ll see the ship.
Board it as fast as you can—don’t stop for anything."
Hope flickered across the tired faces of the rescued.
A few even began to quicken their steps. But just as Knight took another step forward, he froze.
His sharp hearing caught it—the faint, muffled sound of boots striking stone, coming from behind them.
His expression hardened instantly.
"Wait," he whispered, raising a hand.
The people stopped, confused and afraid. Knight tilted his head slightly, listening again.
The sound was clearer now. Several of them. Moving fast.
"They’ve found us," he muttered under his breath, his hand reaching for his weapon.
In an instant, he signalled everyone to hide in the shadows, their breathing stilled as silence cloaked the passage.
The footsteps drew closer—followed by the sound of muffled groans and dull thuds. Knight was already engaged in a fight.
The speed and precision of his attackers stunned him; they weren’t ordinary assassins.
In all his years of combat, Knight had only encountered such skill among the other mercenaries.
Apart from their mysterious boss and a chosen few, no one should have been capable of fighting at this level.
It was almost like fighting with machines.
Their movements were too precise, too cold.
They didn’t breathe heavily, didn’t flinch, didn’t show fear.
Every step, every strike—they moved like programmed soldiers.
When Knight hit one square in the chest, the man barely reacted. No sound, no expression.
The others closed in, silent and mechanical.
The sight unsettled him for a moment, but he didn’t have time to think.
He pushed the thought aside and attacked again, his blows fast and lethal.
Still, the assassins showed no sign of pain.
They countered with perfect rhythm, as if reading his every move. Knight’s eyes narrowed.
They’re not just fighting back... they’re testing me.
Then it hit him—they were trying to wear him down first.
A wry smile touched his lips. "Huh," he muttered under his breath. "Nice tactic."
But Knight was no ordinary man either. With one fluid motion, his blade slid across two throats, dropping them silently.
The remaining five, however, were far more difficult.
Hunter, having finished off his opponents, bolted toward the cave.
Tracking Knight’s location on his surveillance watch, Hunter sprinted through the winding tunnels.
Hunter arrived just in time.
The moment he burst out from the shadows, his gunfire echoed through the cave, dropping two of the assassins before they even realized what hit them.
Knight used the distraction, twisting his blade and striking the remaining ones with clean, decisive blows.
Within seconds, silence fell.
The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood.
The bodies lay still, sprawled across the rocky floor, faces blank and lifeless.
Hunter exhaled, lowering his weapon.
"Well... something’s definitely off with this island," he muttered, his voice low but laced with unease.
Knight nodded, still catching his breath.
"Yeah. These people... if I hadn’t seen the blood myself, I would’ve sworn they were machines."
Hunter crouched beside one of the fallen bodies, turning it over.
The skin was cold, pale, almost grey under the flickering torchlight.
"It’s like they’re being controlled," he said.
"No reaction, no fear—nothing.
Either they’ve been trained to erase every trace of emotion, or their brains are wired wrong," said Hunter half-jokingly.
Knight knelt beside another corpse, searching through the pockets and gear.
Look at them—no real weapons. Just handguns, no grenades, no blades.
What type of assassins are like this?"
Hunter scoffed, shaking his head.
"Idiots, that’s who. They really think they’re invincible and can capture us?
Hmph!" His irritation flared as he kicked a loose stone aside.
"Do they think we aren’t capable?" he muttered under his breath, anger flashing in his eyes. "How dare they..."
He glanced up, eyes sharp with defiance. "Seems like people have forgotten what the Phantoms are capable of."
Knight’s lips curved into a faint smirk.
"Now, now... isn’t it working in your favor that they didn’t bring any real weapons with them?
Don’t act like a child, Hunter.
They don’t know who we are—otherwise, they wouldn’t have dared to send these mere people, would they?"
Hunter gave a short laugh, though his tone carried a darker edge.
They both searched the bodies again, but there was nothing—no IDs, no insignias, no comms.
There was just one strange thing—a coin-sized tattoo on their shoulder, with thin vein-like patterns crawling out from the center of the circle.
Knight traced the pattern with a gloved hand. "Weird design. Never seen anything like this before."
Hunter took a photo of it with his device. "Let’s take this back.
Knight nodded, tightening the strap of his weapon. "Then we move. We’ve wasted enough time here."