noctistt

They call him Ghost.
A name whispered in fear across warzones, black markets, and underworld circles.
To the world, he's a phantom—a faceless mercenary who leaves no trace but bodies in his wake.
To his enemies, he’s a death sentence.
To his brothers-in-arms in Graveyard, he’s family.

But to himself... he's a haunted man searching for a past stolen in gunfire and smoke.

After a flawless mission deep in the Eastern Province, Ghost returns to the hidden forest base he's called home for sixteen years. Yet the victory is short-lived. His foster father, the commander delivers an unexpected order:

"That was your last mission."

Now, Ghost—real name Miles Sterling—must step out of the shadows of war and into a world he’s never known. Guided only by a scarred letter, a fading memory, and the voice of a woman he hasn’t seen since the day everything was taken from him.

But war forged more than his body and name.

Behind the mask, behind the scars, Miles has another secret.
One he’s kept hidden even from his brothers in arms.
He’s not just a weapon.
He’s a ghost with a fortune—a hidden empire he built in silence, across borders and black markets, forged in strategy and blood.
A man of many names, and many shadows.

Beneath the bullets, tattoos, and silence lies a truth buried in ashes.
And Ghost is about to dig it up—one letter, one enemy, one memory at a time.

The Retired Young Mercenary Is Secretly a Billionaire

"Begin!" the host's voice echoed across the arena.

Kaien cracked his neck and launched forward like a bullet, fists clenched, eyes sharp. His footwork was fluid, honed by years of training under the Kraken Clan. The sound of his rapid footsteps echoed over the stone tiles as he closed the distance between him and Miles.

As Kaien threw the first punch, Miles tilted his body slightly to the left—just enough to let the blow brush past his shoulder. The crowd leaned in as Kaien followed up with a rapid series of jabs and sweeping kicks. Each strike was clean, calculated, and precise—yet none of them landed.

He twisted his torso, dipped under a spinning elbow, and spun lightly on the ball of his foot to avoid a sweeping leg. It was like he wasn't fighting at all—just dancing away from the storm with eerie calm.

Let’s see you dodge this.