The Juggernaut
Dante Kryos. The Juggernaut.
He was built like a war machine—massive, armored in muscle and reinforced bones. The kind of assassin who didn't need to dodge bullets.
Kain didn't fear him. He understood him.
Juggernauts have patterns. And patterns can be exploited.
Dante hunted like a wolf. He stayed in abandoned industrial sites, places where he controlled the battlefield. But he wasn't hiding. No, Dante wanted people to come after him. He enjoyed the hunt.
This wasn't a man you fought head-on.
This was a man you executed.
The warehouse district reeked of rust and decay, the air thick with the stench of oil and damp concrete. Dim floodlights flickered above the abandoned buildings, casting broken shadows across shattered glass and steel beams.
Kain moved unseen. Silent. A ghost among the forgotten.
Dante wasn't hiding. He never did. He hunted like a beast, letting his prey come to him. The problem was—he expected a fight. He wanted a brutal, bloody battle.
Kain wasn't going to give him one.
Patience. Observation. Strategy.
Kain had been tracking him for days. Watching his movements. Learning his patterns. Dante had a habit—after every job, he returned to an abandoned steel mill, a place where he could lay low, sharpen his weapons, and wait for the next kill order.
This would be his last night there.
Kain perched above on a steel rafter, eyes locked on the figure below. Dante sat on a rusted crate, running a massive combat knife along a grindstone. Sparks flickered in the dim light.
Kain was waiting.
Kain pressed a small device in his hand.
A detonator.
The moment he activated it, a tripwire near the entrance snapped. A concussive charge exploded, sending shockwaves through the steel beams.
Dante's head snapped up. His body tensed like a predator catching a scent.
A slow grin stretched across his scarred face.
"You really came, Drayce?" His voice was a deep rumble, thick with amusement. He grabbed his knife, rolling his shoulders. "Thought you'd be smarter than that."
Kain didn't answer.
He was already moving.
A small, black cylinder rolled across the floor.
Psshhhh—
A thick, unnatural fog erupted from it, swallowing the warehouse in suffocating darkness. Not just smoke—a void.
Dante exhaled through his nose, testing the air. Then, he chuckled.
"You think a little darkness scares me?"
He cracked his knuckles. Then, he moved.
Fast.
The knife in his grip sliced through the air, cutting through crates like they were nothing. He was hunting, listening, waiting for the sound of movement.
Kain weaved through the chaos, his presence a whisper in the dark. He was faster. Smarter.
And unlike Dante—he didn't need to see.
His voice cut through the black.
"You've never fought someone like me."
Dante turned toward the sound. He moved to strike—
Bang.
A suppressed gunshot.
Dante grunted, stumbling as a bullet tore through his left thigh.
He growled. "Cheap tricks—"
Bang.
Right shoulder.
He staggered.
Bang.
Left knee.
Dante fell.
Not dead. But immobilized.
The void thinned, revealing Kain standing a few feet away, his pistol aimed steady.
Dante panted, glaring up at him. "You think… you've won?" Blood dripped from his wounds, but his body was already healing. Regenerating.
Kain holstered his gun. Then unsheathed The Black Maw.
"I already did."
Dante lunged—one final, desperate attack.
Kain stepped past him.
A single, perfect cut.
Abyssal black bled from the wound before the blood even touched the ground.
Dante staggered, clutching his stomach. His body convulsed, fighting the impossible.
His healing—wasn't working.
The Black Maw didn't just cut flesh.
It devoured.
Dante choked, his limbs trembling. "What… did you…"
His words dissolved with the last of his body.
Kain turned away. The hunt was over.
His phone buzzed.
A new name appeared.
The hunt wasn't finished.
Not until they were all dead.
He stepped into the night.
And vanished.