Chapter 18: The Hell’s Gate

Flashback – Two Years Ago, Moscow

The cold winds of Moscow howled outside the dark, fortified compound of the Blackfield mercenary group. Inside the central chamber of the hideout, the air was tense — silent, yet heavy with the weight of fear.

Multiple screens glowed against the dark stone walls, displaying encrypted feeds, maps, and mission statuses. A black leather chair turned slowly, revealing a man draped in a dark suit and a deep maroon scarf. His fingers tapped against the steel armrest — deliberate, calculating.

Merlin.

The elusive leader of Blackfield.

He narrowed his eyes at the mission coordinator across the room.”Status of the Istanbul operation?” he asked coolly, voice sharp as a blade.

The coordinator swallowed, nervous. “Mission successful, sir. Target eliminated. But…”

Merlin’s fingers stopped tapping. His gaze sharpened. “But what?”

“There’s a complication. “He hesitated. “The target was meeting someone…a young girl.”

Merlin waved his hand dismissively. “Irrelevant. Collateral damage happens.”

“No, sir… she wasn’t just anyone. She was Graveyard.”

The room froze.

Merlin slowly stood. His silhouette loomed like a shadow stretching from Hell itself. “You mean…” His voice dropped into a near-whisper. “One of them?”

“Yes. And it gets worse. “The coordinator took a breath. “She was one of theirs. A prodigy. They’ve declared her death an insult.”

Merlin’s face paled just slightly.

“Have they moved?” he asked.

“Yes, sir. We intercepted chatter an hour ago. Someone has arrived in Moscow. No name. No photos. No trail.”

The room dimmed, as though the shadows themselves grew heavier.

Merlin turned to the window, his breath fogging the cold glass. “Only one of theirs can erase a trail that clean…”

The coordinator nodded.”Yes, sir. Graveyard has deployed their Ghost.”

A long silence followed.

Merlin whispered, almost to himself: “let him face me”

Outside, far in the distance, a flicker of movement passed between rooftops — unseen, silent, watching.

The Ghost had arrived.

In the heart of the Blackfield stronghold, tension thickened like a storm ready to break.

Merlin paced inside the war room, the glow of red screens casting a demonic hue on his face. “Kraven,” he barked, “Prepare a hunt team. I want this man found before he ever sets foot in this compound.”

Kraven nodded. “Yes, sir. I’ll mobi—”

CRASH.

A thunderous explosion shattered the steel-reinforced windows.

SSSSSSHHHH—

Smoke grenades hissed as they rolled across the floor.

Then—chaos.

Screams. Gunshots. Shadows slicing through the smoke like wolves in fog.

Kraven reached for his weapon but never saw the blade. A sharp snap—and he crumbled.

Bodies fell. Fast.

The room was a killing field.

Merlin stumbled back, coughing, blinded by the smoke.He fired blindly toward a silhouette—bang, bang—but it vanished. Silent. Unseen.

Then—

Silence.

The smoke began to settle.

Figures lay sprawled across the marble floor. Some twitching. Most still.Blood painted the Blackfield insignia on the floor in thick strokes.

Only two remained standing.

Merlin… and the Ghost.

He stood amid the massacre—unmoving. Like a statue carved from vengeance itself. His coat dripped blood, not his own. His eyes… cold, feral, glowing with unspeakable rage.

Merlin’s knees gave out. He fell, trembling.

His empire—shattered in minutes.

“What was her name?” the Ghost asked, voice like steel dragged across concrete.

Merlin stared, confused, terrified. “W–who?”

“The girl. In Istanbul. The one your men killed.”

“I… I don’t know her name,” Merlin stammered. “It—it was a mistake. I didn’t mean to… we didn’t know—”

Ghost stepped forward. The air turned colder.“What did you just say?”

“I’m sorry!” Merlin cried. “I can pay—money, resources, anything! I’ll speak to your leader—”

CRACK.

A brutal slap sent Merlin crashing to the floor, blood running from his lips.

Ghost knelt beside him, eyes burning.“Do you think this is about money? Do you think Graveyard is a company? That we take compensation for family?”

From beneath his coat, Ghost drew a knife. Long. Serrated. Clean.

He grabbed Merlin’s arm.

And began to carve.

Merlin screamed. Raw. Animal. Echoing through the halls.

Letter by letter, Ghost etched one word deep into his flesh:

R I T A.

His voice was low, like a curse whispered from the underworld.

“Her name was Rita. Remember it. When you bandage this arm. When you look in the mirror. When you dream. Remember her.”

He let Merlin collapse, weeping in agony, surrounded by the bodies of his elite.

Ghost turned toward the exit, stopping at the threshold.

His voice boomed one final warning:

“I’m leaving you alive to remember. But if you ever touch Graveyard again… I’ll hang you from the Hell’s gate by your own spine.”

Then, like smoke—

He vanished.

The Ghost was gone.

But the nightmare had just begun.

….

Present-

The atmosphere in Room 302 snapped into a chilling silence.

“Blackfield… you’re dead.”

The voice was low, steady—but it carried the weight of a storm.

Miles stood at the doorway. His eyes—empty, cold, exact—locked on the four intruders in black tactical gear. The one closest to the bed stepped forward without hesitation, fists up, thinking he was facing another overconfident bodyguard.

He had no idea who he was dealing with.

The assassin lunged.

But Ghost didn’t dodge.

He caught the punch.

CRACK.

The entire room jolted as a wet crunch echoed like a gunshot. Ghost’s hand had closed around the attacker’s fist with monstrous force—bones shattered, blood sprayed like a broken pipe, and the man howled in agony.

“AAAAAAGHHH!!”

He dropped to his knees, screaming. His hand now resembled something more akin to raw meat than a weapon. The others froze in disbelief, eyes wide behind their masks.

Dr. Reyes stood paralyzed near Daniel’s bedside. His hands had instinctively risen as if to shield the patient—but now he just stood there, stunned. He knew Miles was Ghost, but this—this was inhuman.

Daniel’s mouth moved but no words came out. His wide, terrified eyes darted between the broken attacker and the man who had just done it without breaking a sweat. Beads of sweat trailed down his temple.

The remaining three Blackfield assassins exchanged a glance.

The team leader Kraven muttered under his breath, “It’s him… it’s really him…”

Miles slowly stepped over the writhing man, now gasping on the floor.

“You came for blood… You’ll leave in pieces.”

The calm in his voice was more terrifying than any rage.

“You—!” One of the assassins fired a dart gun aimed at Miles’s chest.

Ghost tilted his body half an inch.

Fsssssh—Thunk!

The dart embedded into the wall behind him.

Before the man could load another, Ghost vanished—his movement a blur.

CRACK! A knee to the ribs.

WHAM! An elbow to the side of the head.

SLAM! The second man was hurled against the glass cabinet so hard it shattered with a violent explosion of glass, sending shards across the room.

“Two down,” Ghost muttered.

The third and fourth backed toward the door, momentarily regrouping.

“Fall back—fall back now!” Kraven shouted

But the hallway behind them was already filling—with Phoenix agents, Captain Ken, and reinforcements bursting into the corridor, weapons trained.

“No one’s going anywhere,” Ken growled.

Ghost turned slightly toward him. “I’ll take care of this. No bullets. Not yet.”

Ken nodded once. He knew better than to interrupt a Ghost hunt.

Miles refocused on the last two. His eyes narrowed.

“You made the mistake of touching my family.”

The atmosphere was suffocating with silence. The stench of fear, sweat, and blood lingered.

Miles turned slowly toward the team leader. His gaze locked with the masked man.

“Kraven…”

The man stiffened. That voice—he hadn’t heard it since Moscow.

“You were there that day. Moscow. So you made it out alive after all…” Miles said, stepping closer.

Kraven’s breath caught in his throat. Before he could speak, the man beside him, fueled by rage or stupidity, lunged at Ghost.

“No!” Kraven tried to stop him, but it was too late.

THWACK!

The attacker hit the ground with a sickening thud, his neck twisted at an impossible angle.

Dead.

Miles didn’t even look down.

“I was talking to him,” he said coldly, bloodlust seeping from every word.

Kraven stood frozen. A child would have had more courage than him in that moment.

“So,” Ghost continued, eyes narrowing. “What was I saying…?”

A beat passed.

“Ah. Right. Call Merlin.”

Kraven fumbled for his phone, fingers trembling. As the line rang, he looked like a man preparing for his own execution.

The call connected.

“Kraven,” Merlin’s voice came through casually. “You called so fast. Have you completed the mission?”

A pause.

Then the voice from hell.

“Mission, huh? I see you’re still in the field, Merlin.”

Silence.

Merlin’s voice, once confident, dropped into a whisper. “G-Ghost…?”

He stood somewhere far away—but terror crossed continents.

“What happened?” Merlin asked, breath shaky.

Miles’s tone was razor-sharp. “I’ll ask you one question. Lie, and I’ll come for you.”

“Okay,” Merlin whispered. “Ask. What do you want to know?”

“Who commissioned this mission?”

There was no delay.

“I—I don’t know the man,” Merlin stammered. “But I’ll give you everything I have. I received an anonymous email… two weeks ago. There was a wire transfer—ten million dollars. Along with a picture of Daniel Keller.”

He swallowed.

“The message said to abduct him… quietly. Only if he became a threat. I swear—I didn’t know the Graveyard was involved.”

“And?” Miles asked. Voice emotionless.

“I’ll send you everything—contact trails, transaction data. We tried tracing the source, but it’s dead-ended. The sender was professional.”

Silence.

Then Miles’s final words before hanging up:”See you soon, Merlin.”

Click.

Daniel had heard every word.

Miles tossed the phone toward Captain Ken, who caught it without a word.

Then, he turned to Kraven.

He grabbed him by the collar and shoved him forward.

“Take him. Phoenix Clan will want answers too.”

Kraven didn’t resist. He knew one wrong move would mean dying on the spot.

The room cleared as agents secured Kraven and removed the unconscious bodies. Cleanup would take hours. The fear… would last longer.

Miles let out a breath and looked at Dr. Reyes.

“Thanks, doc. And… sorry for the mess.”

Dr. Reyes gave a respectful nod. “It’s my duty, boss. Always.”

He turned and left the room, closing the door behind him—leaving Miles and Daniel in the quiet aftermath.

Miles walked over to the side of the bed.

Then sat down.

His voice lowered—not Ghost’s, but Miles’s.

“We need to talk.”

[ A/N: support me, if you liked the Chapter, comment and add this to your library, thanyou]

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