"Run, run, run!"
The entire island base was ablaze with alarms and flashing sirens. The once-secret headquarters of the Armageddon Mercenaries had become a battlefield. Gunfire rattled through the night, explosions shook the ground, and mercenaries fell one by one, slaughtered by an unknown force. The massacre was absolute.
Robert Augustine, the leader of the Armageddon Mercenaries, sat in his dimly lit office. His face, lined with worry and resentment, was a portrait of a man who had accepted his fate. A cigar smoldered in his left hand, while his right clenched a loaded pistol, trembling slightly as he aimed at the door. He knew death was coming. The Grim Reaper was near.
The echoes of gunfire grew louder. The desperate cries of his men were cut short, one after another.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The heavy door was kicked open. A tall figure strode in, clad in black, his face concealed behind a menacing devil mask. The sight made Robert's blood turn to ice. He attempted to raise his pistol, but his hands shook violently. He had faced death countless times, but this presence—this demon—struck a fear unlike any other.
The masked man advanced, each step a thunderous echo in Robert's chest. The air grew thick with dread.
"DO YOU KNOW YOUR CRIME?"
The voice was deep, filled with unrelenting fury. A powerful hand grabbed Robert by the collar, yanking him forward. The masked man's eyes glowed a furious red, burning with vengeance.
"ROBERT, DO YOU KNOW YOUR CRIME?!" he bellowed again.
Robert shuddered, his breath shallow. "I... I was just the gun, not the trigger..." he whispered.
The masked man growled like a beast unleashed from hell. "Then WHO is the hand?"
A sharp, unseen force struck Robert. He gasped, blood pouring from his nose, eyes, and ears. His body convulsed violently before going still. Lifeless.
The masked man lifted Robert's corpse with ease, staring at it with cold, unwavering rage. "Who did this?" he demanded.
From the shadows, five cloaked figures emerged, kneeling behind him. "We will find the truth, Commander," one of them said solemnly.
The masked man's voice was calm, but his words dripped with venom. "Find out who hired these mercenaries to kill my mother. Let the massacre begin. I want everyone involved in that incident to either die or beg for death."
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Explosions engulfed the island, turning it into a fiery inferno. The masked man and his group stood on a departing boat, watching the destruction with emotionless faces.
Suddenly, his satellite phone rang. He answered without a word.
A deep voice spoke on the other end. "Is your rage satisfied?"
The masked man exhaled sharply. "It's not over yet, Grandpa. Until I find the true mastermind, the massacre will continue."
"Do you even know how many lives you have claimed so far? Over 300,000," the voice said gravely. "Enough. Leave the rest to me. I have uncovered the truth behind my daughter's death. You are no match for them. Come back. Sometimes, revenge is best served cold."
The call ended.
The masked man's eyes burned even brighter. He let out a furious roar before collapsing in despair. His comrades rushed to him, their voices filled with concern.
"Commander!"
.....................................
Six Months Later, Karak, Pahang (Malaysia)
An elderly man raised his hand, signaling for the young man nearby to approach. The young man possessed a unique charm, but his long, unkempt hair and unshaven beard gave him a rugged, ascetic appearance. He wore a traditional dhoti and a simple Indian-style shirt, exuding a quiet, meditative aura.
The older man, Kathirven, gazed at the young man with warmth. "Son, I know you have no interest in this marriage, but as a man, marriage is a part of life."
The young man, Athavan, hesitated. "Dad..."
Kathirven tousled his son's hair affectionately. "Son, I have been absent from your life for far too long. I was never there to fulfill my duties as a father. Let me do this for you." His voice was tinged with sorrow.
Athavan studied his father's face, realizing the depth of pain hidden in his eyes. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, recalling his mother's last words:
"Son, I have only one regret in life. I separated you from your father because of my selfishness. Please, reunite with him and make him happy. Fulfill your duty as his son."
He opened his eyes and gave his father a solemn nod. Kathirven's eyes glistened with unshed tears as he pulled his son into a tight embrace.
Athavan had been separated from his father since the age of three. His parents, Kathirven and Parvathy, had divorced due to a misunderstanding, and Parvathy had taken him to India, cutting off all contact with his father. Twenty-five years later, Athavan had finally reunited with his father to honor his mother's dying wish.
Despite their reunion, Athavan remained quiet and withdrawn, an outsider among his Malaysian relatives. Some of his father's family treated him with indifference, even disdain, viewing him as a foreigner rather than kin. Concerned for his son's well-being, Kathirven decided to arrange a marriage for him and send him to Kuala Lumpur.
Kathirven, a wealthy rubber estate owner, led a humble life but was determined to ensure his son's future. He arranged for Athavan to marry Dhiviya—a well-educated, beautiful, and well-mannered young woman. To ensure her family's acceptance, he gifted them a generous dowry and a sizable fortune.
The night before the wedding, Athavan remained unchanged—his beard untrimmed, his hair unkempt. He had taken a vow of mourning, refusing to groom himself for a year until his mother's death anniversary. Alone in the estate temple, he meditated in silence.
As he opened his eyes, a soft sob caught his attention.
A young woman entered the temple, tears streaming down her face. She stood before the deity's statue, her voice trembling as she prayed.
"God, why are you doing this to me? I don't want to marry, but I have no choice. My father's surgery depends on this. I am grateful for this chance to save him, but it still hurts. Every girl has dreams... yet I have never had the chance to chase mine. Still, you have always protected me. Please, make sure everything goes well."
She wiped her tears and turned around—only to come face-to-face with Athavan, seated in deep meditation like a yogi.
She let out a startled scream. "Aargh!"