The screen glowed red in the darkness.
He stood in front of a blood-soaked backdrop—nothing but void behind him. His coat moved like smoke, silent and threatening. His mask—obsidian black with silver edges—stared into the camera with glowing red eyes, unblinking.
No face.No emotion.Only legend.
And then—his voice.
It came like thunder spoken in a whisper.Too calm. Too cold. Too final.
"You've seen the fires."
"You've counted the dead."
"And still… you send men into my storm."
He tilted his head slightly, as if studying prey.As if amused.
"Let me be clear. This is not a war you can fight.It's not a manhunt you can win."
A pause.
Dead air.Then:
"What I do now… is not for you to understand.It's not your justice.""It's mine."
"Stay out of my shadow."
He leaned closer to the camera.The screen flickered violently—static like an ancient scream trapped in code.
"You interfere again…"
"…and I will turn your nations into cautionary tales."
The screen cut to black.
No signature.No trace.Not even metadata.
Just silence.
The kind that makes generals sweat.The kind that makes hardened agents forget how to breathe.
Detective Jin was the first to speak.
His voice didn't shake.But his jaw tightened like stone.
"He sent us a message."
He crushed the cigarette beneath his heel.
"Now I'm sending one back."
He turned to the Director of Special Operations.
"I want full operational control."
The room snapped alert.
"Impossible.""He just threatened global governments.""We need a coalition—"
Jin's voice cut through like a blade.
"You don't need to find him."
He paused.
Cold.Unblinking.
"I do."