Time: 10:30 AM
Location: North Greenery Junction Station
The sky hung heavy with dark, burdened clouds. Through the curtain of cold rain, the fading glow of the dying sun slipped across the worn platform, washing everything in a muted, blood-tinged hue. Once, this place buzzed with life—voices, footsteps, trains screeching in and out. Now it stood abandoned, surrounded by broken concrete, rust-eaten rails, and a watchtower glowing with a lonely crimson light.
South Military forces had taken complete control of the area.
Sandbag barricades guarded every corner, searchlights cut through the rain-soaked air, and high above, their black flag whipped violently against the wind. The railway tracks were buried beneath rust and wild weeds, as if nature had drained the last drop of life from the earth's veins. Two parallel lines of steel stretched toward the horizon—lines that would never again carry hopeful passengers or nostalgic memories.
Beside the platform stood the station building, its walls shedding layers of plaster, its entire face bearing the exhaustion of a century. The faded bricks and shattered windows told stories no one remained to hear. Even the surveillance tower beside it resembled an ancient sentinel. A lone sapling had taken root on its highest ledge—a silent symbol of life stubbornly growing out of destruction.
To the right stood a small shack, fungal growth spreading over its wooden walls and collapsing roof. Nearby, the broken telegraph poles leaned like crippled relics of a forgotten age. On the left, a derailed freight car lay on its side, its timber rotted and metal frame bleached into lifeless gray. A tall electric pole and an iron rail bridge towered behind it, the last monuments of a civilization barely holding on. Through the gaps in the bridge, only the empty grey sky could be seen—and beneath it, nothing but void.
An old jackfruit tree was shedding its final leaves. Looking at it, one could almost believe the entire silent history of this station rested on its fragile branches. Dry vines, wild grasses, and dead twigs covered the surroundings. But the most ominous sight was the towering black statue beside the tracks. I activated my Vision power—instantly, the history of this monument unfolded in my mind. It was once the emblem of The great leader John Raymond, yet time had eroded him too, leaving behind a weary, fractured figure.
The statue rose so high its head nearly touched the low-hung clouds. Made of grey cement or stone, its surface was scarred with deep cracks and dark stains—scars from storms, years, and the blood-soaked history carved into its flesh.
Thunder boomed across the sky.
A truck rumbled in from the distance and screeched to a stop. Soldiers forced Zara and the woman out of the back, shoving them onto the wet ground. Their trembling voices, damp clothes, and terrified yet defiant eyes made one thing clear—they hadn't come here to "live."
Their hands were tied. Fear and fury burned together on their faces.
From atop a coconut tree, I watched the South soldiers carefully, tracking their movement patterns. Rain soaked through my raincoat, clinging coldly to my skin. A purple system bar flickered faintly before my eyes—
Mission 1: Rescue those girls
I observed their patrol patterns carefully—those who walked with constant rhythm, those who repeated the same loop without deviation. Once their routine was locked in my mind, I slipped down from the tree, landing softly on the soaked earth. The mud and the merging shadows wrapped around me like a cloak, concealing every footstep. Galland's old lesson echoed faintly in my memory: "Riven, learn to become a shadow. Be present, yet invisible—even the wind shouldn't betray you."
Keeping close to the wall, I blended into the dark silhouette of a broken generator. The first guard stood right beside it, unaware of his approaching death. I slid behind him, clamped my hand over his mouth, and with the knife I had collected from the soldiers' truck, drew a swift line across his throat. Warm blood sprayed across my fingers—yet not a single sound escaped.
→ Enemy Down (1/10)
By the freight car, another soldier stood idly, scanning the quiet station. I flicked a small pebble toward the far end of the platform; it clattered sharply, making him turn instinctively toward the noise. That single moment of distraction was all I needed. I slipped behind the freight car's cover, approached him from the darkness, grabbed the back of his neck, and silently snapped his breath away until he collapsed without a word.
→ Killed (2/10)
I moved into the gap between the train compartments. Inside, dim light flickered as two soldiers sat cleaning their weapons—completely unaware. I glided behind them, clamped a cloth over one man's face, and before the other could turn fully, I plunged the blade into his chest. The steel met bone, then heart. Silence swallowed them both.
→ Enemy Down (4/10)
Rain hammered against the metal as I approached the guard tower. A lone rifleman stood beneath it, the drizzle masking the rhythm of my footsteps. I slid two small throwing knives from my shoulder pocket. With a slow exhale, I launched them through the rain-soaked air—two silver flashes stitching through the storm. Both blades struck precisely, dropping him before he even understood he was dead.
I gripped the rope and began climbing. The wet iron rods were treacherous, my fingers slipping again and again, but I held my breath and climbed in absolute silence. At the top, the sniper at the tower's peak struggled to see through the rainfall; visibility had collapsed for him, but not for me. I edged along the slick top ring, positioned myself at his blindside, and fired a single round from my revolver. The bullet ripped through the rain and ended him instantly.
→ Killed (6/10)
Rain intensified—thick, relentless sheets crashing against the metal tower as I descended the steps quietly. Ahead, near the old bridge, stood two brute-like soldiers (Positions 7 and 8). I had already mapped their timing earlier. With practiced care, I lifted a thin, worn metal plate and wedged a bamboo stick beneath it, creating the perfect instability. As they walked forward together, their boots hit the weakened plank. The moment it gave way, I lunged. Their balance shattered; I struck their knees with brutal precision, and they crumpled beneath the storm.
→ Killed (8/10)
Then, slowly and steadily, I moved toward the station building. Every shadow, every soldier within my path fell in silence. Only two remained. Through the window's shadow, I observed the final scene: the girls were held captive inside—terror glazed in their eyes. From the system bar, I learned the truth. The soldiers here raped or trafficked women overseas for money. My chest tightened with fury, a cold, calculated rage. I spotted the mustached officer—Bayonet—leaning back casually with his boots on the table, while another soldier pulled out a cigarette. When he lifted his head to light it, I drew my revolver and fired. The bullet drilled clean through his forehead; he dropped instantly.
The officer sprung up from the table, shocked. "Guard! Guard—where the hell is everyone?"
I pushed open the gate and stepped inside.
He stared at me, disbelief twisting his expression. "You? You came alone to destroy my base? Hah!"
Now it was just him and me.
He raised his gun. I dove to the side—his bullet sliced past my ear. I grabbed a broken iron rod nearby and hurled it at him. He dodged, but staggered from the imbalance. That was all I needed. I leapt forward—we crashed onto the floor, rolling across the cold, rain-soaked tiles, exchanging vicious punches. Outside, the storm roared with thunder, wind rattling the shattered windows.
His punch hit my cheek, sending a burst of pain and blurred vision into my eyes—rainwater and blood mixing as they trickled down my jaw. Galland's voice returned, sharp and steady: "Control your anger, Riven. A fight is won by mind."
I took a step back, inhaled slowly, refocused.
Bayonet charged. His ammo was spent; now he lashed out with a knife. I sidestepped, gripped his wrist, struck his elbow sharply—forcing him to drop the blade. He reached for my throat, but I slammed a punch into the side of his neck and drove my knee into his ribs. He collapsed onto his knees, wheezing, blood dripping from his mouth.
I picked up my revolver, aimed it directly at his forehead.
"This… is the payback for that rainy day."
The gun roared...
His body slumped. Blood pooled into the floor, blending with the storm.
→ Killed (10/10)
System Update: /Mission Progress 100% |
/All Enemy Units Neutralized (10/10)/