The sky was a chaotic canvas of fire and smoke, the roar of engines drowning out the screams of men. Fighter jets danced like vultures in a deadly ballet, their wings slicing through the clouds as tracer bullets lit up the horizon. Amid the chaos, one voice cut through the cacophony—a voice laced with desperation and resolve.
"We gotta take them down… It's now or never!" shouted the lead pilot, his hands gripping the controls so tightly his knuckles turned white. His eyes darted across the radar, tracking the swarm of enemy fighters closing in.
His copilot, a younger man with a face pale from fear, muttered under his breath, "You're being too noisy, you mf…" His voice trembled, but his hands moved with precision, adjusting the targeting systems.
The lead pilot ignored the jab, his focus razor-sharp. He banked hard to the left, evading a missile that screamed past his wing. "It's a chase between a monster who doesn't fear death and a human… This is insanity," the copilot whispered, his voice cracking.
"Shut up!" the lead pilot snapped, his voice a mix of anger and fear. "If he hears you over the radio, we're dead. You don't know what he's capable of."
But the copilot's words lingered in the air, heavy and unspoken. He's not human. He's a monster.
The battle raged on, a symphony of destruction that seemed to stretch into eternity. Yet, as the minutes turned to hours, the tide shifted. What began as a fierce dogfight became a one-sided massacre. One man, flying a jet painted in the colors of death, moved with an inhuman precision.
His maneuvers were flawless, his aim unerring. One by one, the enemy fighters fell from the sky, their wreckage scattering across the battlefield below.
When the last enemy jet spiraled into the ground, the radio crackled to life. "Command, this is Kalyan. Requesting permission to proceed alone."
The commander's voice was steady but carried a weight of concern. "Kalyan, we trust you, but you're not going solo. Not because we doubt you, but because we can't afford to lose our trump card. Besides… you're getting married next week. Don't forget that."
Kalyan's response was cold, detached. "It won't be a problem. I'll be back in time. Tell her… tell her I'll be there."
He glanced at his subordinates, their faces a mix of awe and terror. They had seen him in action, had witnessed the sheer brutality of his skills. He was a legend, a ghost story whispered in the barracks. But now, as they looked at him, they saw something else—a man burdened by something far heavier than war.
"If you don't quit after this," Kalyan said, his voice low but carrying the weight of a threat, "I'll be the one to take you out. And no one will ever find your bodies."
The men nodded, their fear palpable. They had seen the "Assassination Devil" in action, and they knew better than to test him.
As Kalyan marched forward, armed with nothing but a few melee weapons and his unshakable resolve, the battlefield fell silent. The enemy's first line of defense was already in ruins, their bodies strewn across the ground like broken dolls. He moved with a mechanical efficiency, his eyes devoid of emotion.
One enemy soldier, the last of his unit, fell to his knees, his hands raised in surrender. "Please… I have a family. Spare me!"
Kalyan hesitated, his grip tightening on the knife in his hand. For a moment, the soldier's plea seemed to pierce through the armor of his rage. But then the man spat, "Damn you, monster! Can't you feel anything?"
The words struck a nerve. Kalyan's hesitation vanished, replaced by a cold fury. He drove the knife into the soldier's chest, again and again, until the man's body went limp. As he stood over the corpse, his eyes fell on a photograph clutched in the soldier's hand—a family, smiling and unaware of the tragedy that had just befallen them.
Kalyan's hand trembled as he picked up the photo. For a brief moment, he saw himself in the soldier's face, in the eyes of the child in the picture. But the moment passed, and he crushed the photo in his fist, tossing it aside as he moved on.
As he cleared the second line of defense, his mind began to wander, drifting back to a time when the world was simpler, when he was just a boy with dreams instead of nightmares.