The wind howled. The rain pounded against the rooftop, turning the shattered concrete into a slick battlefield.
Ochieng stood with his fists clenched, his muscles aching but his eyes unwavering.
Across from him, Black Fang wiped the blood trickling from his lips.
They had exchanged blows, tested each other, and now the true fight was about to begin.
The city beneath them continued to glow, unaware that two monsters were battling just above their heads.
This wasn't a fight for glory.
It was a fight to determine who walked away alive.
And both of them knew—only one would.
---
Ochieng had fought many assassins before.
Mercenaries. Killers. Hitmen.
But Black Fang was different.
His movements were almost supernatural—no wasted energy, no unnecessary motion.
A single shift of his feet could mean instant death.
And now, he was done testing.
The moment Black Fang moved, Ochieng felt it.
He's faster.
Too fast.
A blade shot toward his throat—silent, lethal.
Ochieng tilted his head—a hair's breadth away from death.
A second dagger appeared in Black Fang's other hand.
A thrust toward Ochieng's ribs.
No time to dodge.
So he caught it.
Barehanded.
Blood trickled down Ochieng's palm as he clenched the blade between his fingers.
Black Fang's eyes narrowed.
For the first time, a flicker of surprise.
And that was enough.
Ochieng's knee slammed into Black Fang's stomach.
A brutal, bone-crushing strike.
The assassin staggered back, coughing blood.
But Ochieng wasn't finished.
Not yet.
---
Ochieng's aura shifted.
Something cold. Something primal.
For years, he had hidden his true self.
He had lived as an ordinary man.
But he wasn't ordinary.
Not even close.
He was the ghost of the underworld.
The one people whispered about in fear.
The one even the strongest killers avoided.
And now—
Black Fang was beginning to understand.
"You're not just anyone, are you?" the assassin said, wiping his mouth.
Ochieng smiled.
"Did it take you this long to realize?"
Black Fang's grip tightened on his blades.
And then—he vanished.
--
A storm of steel.
That's what it felt like.
Daggers slashed through the air, each one seeking Ochieng's life.
He dodged—barely.
A cut on his cheek. A graze on his shoulder.
Too fast.
Too sharp.
Black Fang moved like a phantom.
But Ochieng—
He moved like a beast.
The moment he found an opening, he struck.
A fist—straight to the jaw.
Black Fang flew backward, his body crashing into the rooftop railing.
He didn't get up.
For a long moment, there was silence.
Then—a chuckle.
"You win," Black Fang admitted, his voice weak.
Ochieng didn't lower his guard.
"Are you going to try again?"
The assassin shook his head.
"No. I've seen enough."
A slow smile spread across his bloodied face.
"You're not someone I should kill."
Ochieng frowned.
"Then why were you sent?"
Black Fang's smile widened.
"Because someone wants you dead. Someone powerful."
Ochieng's eyes darkened.
And just like that—the battle was over.
But the war?
It was just beginning.
---