The storm rumbled overhead, casting eerie shadows against the crumbling fortress walls. General Viktor ‘Bloodfang’ Kruger stood atop the ancient battlements, his crimson beret barely shifting against the howling wind. His fingers curled around the grip of a black, high-powered compound bow, the taut string humming as he pulled it back. The red-tipped arrow gleamed under the moonlight, its razor-sharp point aimed at the oblivious patrol below.
Thud.
The arrow sliced through the air, whispering death as it pierced the skull of an unsuspecting soldier. The man collapsed before he even had the chance to scream, his body slumping against the cobblestone pathway.
Kruger exhaled slowly, savoring the moment. Unlike the brutish slaughter of firearms, this was precision. This was control.
Behind him, Sergeant Darius ‘Hellhound’ Rook watched with a smirk. "Didn’t know you were the silent type, General."