The Warning

A single overhead light flickered, casting sharp shadows along the cold walls. The scent of sweat and blood hung thick in the air.

Aksh sat unmoving, fingers steepled beneath his chin, watching as Black Shadow struggled to stay upright on his knees. His body was wrecked—cuts lined his face, his ribs bruised beneath his torn shirt—but his eyes burned with something far more dangerous than pain.

Defiance.

One of Aksh's men stepped forward, grabbing a fistful of Black Shadow's hair and jerking his head back. A sharp breath hissed through the captive's teeth, but still—he smiled.

"Enough of this," Mr. Jung murmured, his deep voice calm but firm. He stood beside Aksh, his presence as heavy as the silence between them. "He knows something. Let me make him talk."

Aksh didn't respond immediately. He simply stared at Black Shadow, as if calculating something far beyond the man in front of him. Then, slowly, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"You said I'm hunting the wrong thing." His voice was quiet, yet it filled the room with an undeniable weight. "Explain."

Black Shadow exhaled shakily, but his grin never wavered. "You really think you're in control, don't you?" His voice was raw, edged with something almost amused. "That you're the one pulling all the strings?"

Aksh said nothing.

"You don't even see it," Black Shadow continued, chuckling hoarsely. "You think you've been leading the game, but all this time—you've been following a path someone else laid out for you."

A flicker of irritation crossed Mr. Jung's face. He moved to step forward, but Aksh lifted a hand slightly. A silent command.

Jung stopped.

Black Shadow tilted his head, his bruised lips curling into something between a sneer and a smirk. "You're searching for the mastermind behind all of this, but what if I told you that you should be praying you never find them?"

A muscle ticked in Aksh's jaw. "And why is that?"

Black Shadow chuckled. A low, haunting sound.

"Because the moment they walk into your life, Aksh…" His head tilted back, his bloodied teeth flashing in a twisted smile.

"Everything you love will burn."

Silence.

The words hung in the air like poison.

The temperature in the room seemed to drop. Some of Aksh's men exchanged uneasy glances, their grip tightening on their weapons. But Aksh himself?

He didn't even blink.

Instead, he studied Black Shadow for a long moment. Then, he smiled.

"That's a nice story."

Black Shadow's grin faltered.

Aksh leaned back, tapping a single finger against the armrest. "But you see, there's one problem." His voice remained calm, but his eyes sharpened like a blade.

"I don't have anything to lose."

Black Shadow inhaled sharply.

It was subtle, almost imperceptible—but Aksh caught it. A flicker of doubt.

The fear had finally seeped in.

Aksh stood slowly, his presence towering over the broken man on the floor. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a sleek black blade—small, sharp, deadly. The metal gleamed under the dim light as he knelt before his captive.

"Tell me his name." His voice dropped, smooth as silk but lethal as poison. "The one who sent you."

For the first time, Black Shadow hesitated.

His hands curled into fists against the floor, his breathing uneven. He had played this game before—tortured men, broken them, made them beg for mercy.

But this wasn't like any interrogation he had faced.

This wasn't desperation.

This was inevitability.

Aksh wasn't trying to find the truth. He was waiting for Black Shadow to realize there was no escape.

But then—

Something shifted in Black Shadow's expression.

A strange calm.

And then—he laughed.

A broken, raspy sound, echoing off the walls.

Aksh frowned slightly, his grip tightening around the blade.

Black Shadow lifted his chin, grinning through blood-stained teeth. "It doesn't matter if I tell you or not," he whispered, his voice almost gentle.

Aksh's eyes narrowed.

"You think you're the monster in this story?" Black Shadow's smile widened. "No, Aksh. You're just the storm before the real disaster."

Without warning—he moved.

His hand shot up before anyone could react. His fingers closed around the handle of the guard's gun. A split second. A single move.

And then—

A gunshot rang out.

The sound shattered the air.

Blood splattered across the floor.

But it wasn't Aksh's.

It was Black Shadow's.

A bullet through his skull.

His body collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.

For a moment, no one spoke.

No one moved.

Then—slowly, Aksh rose to his feet.

The smirk was gone.

His gaze lowered to the lifeless body at his feet, and for the first time since the game had begun—a flicker of something unreadable passed through his expression.

Not anger.

Not frustration.

But something colder. Something darker.

Black Shadow had been a pawn in someone else's game. And instead of revealing the truth—he had chosen death.

Which meant one thing.

Whoever Aksh was searching for…

They were far more dangerous than he had anticipated.