A few days later. 12:30 AM.

  Rayn and Haarun were standing outside a shut-down underground metro station, both dressed in black suits — looking like two living shadows carved straight out of the dark.

  Long black trench coats hugged their bodies — perfect cuts, no wrinkles, no flaws. Thin crimson lines ran along the fabric, glowing faintly like streaks of blood hiding inside the night.

  Under the coat, a tight-fit combat suit — muscle and darkness blending like they belonged together.

  Hoods pulled low. Faces completely sealed behind smooth black masks. No expression… just pure void staring back.

  On their wrists, dark bracers leak red light through vein-like cracks. Heavy combat boots slammed the ground like the earth itself growled with every step.

  From the outside, they looked identical — two twin shadows born from the same abyss. But the real difference lay in their weapons.

  Haarun; A massive black sword strapped to his back, red lightning racing across its surface non-stop.

  Two unique daggers tied to his legs — black blades with blood-red edges that glimmered like they could slice silence itself.

  Rayn; one Futuristic gun in his hand, their bodies pulsing blue like a Thunder heartbeat; each shot would probably sound like thunder cracking open the sky.

  A crimson-glowing dagger on his waist — one slight movement and it felt like it could cut through the dark itself.

  The two moved in slow steps, breaking the old underground metro station’s entry gate and slipping inside.

  Shattered glass booths, half-closed iron shutters — the whole place felt like it had died years ago and no one bothered to bury it.

  Rayn and Haarun walked further in, checking every corner. Because of the masks, their voices sounded deeper — not robotic, but heavy enough to scare someone straight.

  Haarun scanned the place and said in a blunt tone:—“This metro station… is basically a graveyard for the old metro lines now.”

  Rayn replied in a calm voice:—“I got info from Nur Dominion. Exactly nine years ago, there was a mafia war here. Five hundred sixty-three civilians died in that fight.”

  He paused for a second before adding:—“And the bigger issue… Nur Dominion itself was collapsing back then. A lot of Bloodfang were wiped out during that period.”

  Haarun casually said:—“I heard Batin Veil used to be called the underworld even before World War III.”

  Rayn nodded slightly;—“Yeah, you heard right. Honestly, calling Batin Veil the godfather of the underworld wouldn’t even be an exaggeration.”

  After roaming around for a while, Haarun spoke in a chill voice:—“We’re also getting an A-Rank hacker with us today. He’s supposed to meet us at the platform.”

  Just as he finished speaking, a sudden transmission cut in.

  A calm but razor-sharp digital voice echoed:—“Hello… this is Bloodfang Hacker Rank A-24877.”

  Rayn and Haarun immediately went silent. Both focused entirely on the hacker’s voice channel — the real game of the mission had finally begun.

  Hacker Rank A-24877 started speaking again:—“According to the intel I got, there’s a code number hidden somewhere inside this entire metro station. Once we find that code, we can access the mafia’s base.”

  The two didn’t waste a second. They got ready instantly. Then Haarun said in a straight tone to Rayn:—“You check the control room. I’ll check the ticket counter. We came to the metro… leaving without a ticket feels illegal.”

  Rayn replied dryly: —“So funny… blah blah blah.”

  Without dragging the joke any further, Rayn silently walked toward the control room. After a moment, he stepped inside — and saw a space that looked like it had been rotting for decades.

  Broken switchboards with loose wires dangling like snakes, tables and chairs flipped over on the floor, dust and rust everywhere, and the air is heavy with the weird burnt smell of old cables.

  At first, Rayn found nothing. But suddenly, in that dusty silence, he heard a faint tick… tick… sound coming from somewhere.

  Rayn instantly slid into the shadows and hid himself.

  A few seconds later, a mafia member walked into the control room. He held a rusty metal pipe in one hand, his eyes twitching around like he was expecting danger.

  He froze when he heard the faintest sound of Rayn’s footsteps. Slowly lifting his head, he finally spotted the dark figure standing in the shadows.

  The man’s face drained instantly — as if he was staring straight at death itself.

  Without a moment of thought, he charged at Rayn. Rayn didn’t move. He simply pulled out the smooth, blood-red glowing dagger from his waist.

  Then — In less than the blink of an eye, Rayn lunged forward. A sharp shing — And the next moment, the mafia’s head rolled off his body and hit the ground.

  The scream stuck in the mafia’s throat never even made it out. A burst of blood sprayed across the shards of broken glass, glinting like death lit up in red.

  Rayn’s face didn’t twitch. His movements were so precise, so cold — like a night-owl made of shadow, killing its prey without even disturbing the air.

  Rayn went back to searching. Stacks of overturned files, old papers, torn maps, table drawers, busted consoles, circuit breakers, a rusted backup generator, a tangled mess of severed intercom wires — he checked every corner, every inch. But nothing. Just dust, rust, and the dead breath of broken machines.

  Rayn slowly turned and walked out. He descended toward the dark escalator in absolute silence.

  Behind him, the control room stayed as it was — soaked in blood, silent, like a death-chamber right after a storm.

  At the top of the escalator, he looked down — eight mafias were standing in the darkness. All armed. All tense. All guarding something.

  Rayn’s eyes turned ice-cold. In his head, one thought flickered:— “Eight guards? But there’s nothing here except a shut-down escalator… So what the hell are they guarding?”

  Without wasting a second, Rayn slipped down like a shadow. Right then mafia–1 spotted him.

  A sleek black AK-47 in his hands. He didn’t hesitate — he slammed the trigger — DRRRRATATATATATATATA—!!!

  The sound blasted through the ruins like an explosion. Chunks of broken concrete and twisted metal railings flew into the air, sparks lighting up the darkness like scattered fire.

  But Rayn vanished from sight in an instant. Mafia–1 looked up and saw nothing — Rayn had literally disappeared into thin air. Only a faint whoosh brushed past his ear.

  The very next second, he felt something cold touch the back of his neck. Rayn was already behind him — one swift motion, the dagger sliced clean from ear to ear.

  Half the man’s head hung in the air for a moment before the body collapsed like a broken puppet. The remaining seven still had no idea what just happened.

  But they didn’t wait — they all lunged toward the escalator together, like a storm dropping straight from the sky.

  At first, Rayn was only dodging — Fist like cannonballs, iron rods, knives, bullets — He slipped past all of it so effortlessly, it felt like time itself slowed down just for him.

  Then Mafia–2 launched a straight jab at Rayn’s face — If that punch had hit a wall, the concrete would’ve shattered.

  But Rayn caught it with one hand, zero hesitation. His voice dropped low, icy:— “Their strength… not normal. These are no ordinary mafias.”

  He didn’t waste another second. A twist of the dagger — cross-slash — In one strike, Mafia–2’s arm flew off, and the very next heartbeat, so did his head.

  Blood splattered onto the metal steps of the escalator — tup… tup… soft, cold drops of death.

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  Mafia–3, enraged beyond control, screamed and fired wildly. Rayn moved like wind — almost invisible. Bullets tore through empty air.

  In a blink, Rayn appeared in front of Mafia–3, shoved the AK-47 aside, and sliced upward — cutting his head open clean from bottom to top.

  Mafia-4 and 5 lunged at him together. But Rayn twisted mid-air, vanished behind them at near sound-speed, and in just one second carved hundreds of cuts across their bodies.

  The floor was soaked instantly as blood sprayed everywhere.

  Mafia-6 didn’t even get to raise his gun. Rayn shot upward, dropped like thunder, and in one ruthless motion separated the man’s head from his body.

  Mafia-7’s fate was even worse. Rayn shredded him on the escalator — arms, legs, head, torso — twelve pieces in total.

  The escalator steps turned so slick with blood it felt like a slippery downhill road straight into hell.

  The last one — Mafia-8. He dropped his weapon, yet there wasn’t a single hint of fear in his eyes. It was like something non-human was wearing a human body.

  Rayn put away his dagger and pulled out his hi-tech advanced gun. A blue light hummed inside the barrel — vwwmm… He pulled the trigger — fyuumm—!!!

  A flash of lightning shot out and slammed into Mafia-8. In the next heartbeat the guy exploded, body torn apart — flesh, bone, blood splattering across the walls.

  Silence returned once more. Rayn took a deep breath, that strange darkness flickering in his eyes.

  Below the escalator, only blood-drenched stillness remained… And Rayn standing there — like a nightmare molded into a man.

  Meanwhile, moments earlier, Haarun had reached the shattered ticket counter.

  The glass booth was crushed, the iron shutter half hanging down — the place itself felt like it was holding its breath.

  Inside stood three mafias. They didn’t move, didn’t speak. Just that eerie, cold silence wrapping around the room.

  Haarun whispered in a playful tone:— “Why are they here… came to buy tickets, or came to take the ones I’m about to cut?”

  Still laughing, he slowly walked forward. The moment he drew the massive sword strapped to his back, a violent fire lit up in his eyes.

  He joked again, light and teasing:— “So what’re you doing here, huh? Show me your tickets!”

  Mafia-1 didn’t waste even a second. With a Glock 17 in hand, he charged at Haarun — unleashing a storm of bullets.

  But Haarun had already vanished like air. Before the guy could even blink, Haarun was standing right behind him — A single, brutal Vertical Drop Cut.

  One slash from head to toe. The body split clean in two and crashed onto the floor.

  The other two mafias panicked and opened fire. Bullets ripped through the air — but Haarun standing before them felt almost invisible.

  A perfect horizontal sweep — One strike shattered both their AK-47s, tore through their chests, and blood sprayed across the booth.

  Blood dripped from the blade as Haarun chuckled:— “That’s what happens when you try getting on a train without a ticket.”

  Inside the counter now lay blood, body parts, and the smell of smoke.

  Even then, Haarun calmly searched through everything — The cash drawer, the locker, the desk, old ticket rolls, register books, half-burnt receipts…

  Nothing. No code number. No info. Absolutely zero. Without looking back even once, Haarun stepped out of the counter and vanished like a phantom.

  Finally he entered the Maintenance Tunnel. Inside was pure darkness, like the walls themselves were breathing.

  The smell of wet concrete lingered; rusted pipes dripped water — The silence was so thick it felt like someone was hiding inside the dark itself.

  Suddenly — pang! A bullet shot out from an unknown direction.

  But Haarun moved faster than lightning. His sword flashed — And the bullet split clean in two, dropping harmlessly onto the ground.

  Before he could react, another one dropped from behind with a sword — the blade aiming straight to split Haarun’s skull.

  But Haarun twisted his own blade upward — the counter-slash hit like a thunderstrike. The guy was shredded mid-air, pieces of him flying across the tunnel.

  Mafia-1 fired again. Haarun darted at him like a damn thief in the night — only this time he didn’t just slice the bullet, He cut the bullet and the guy’s arm and the gun cleaned off in one motion.

  One leap behind him — a brutal horizontal sweep — his head rolled across the floor.

  Haarun’s eyes narrowed. In a cold, flat voice he muttered:— “These ones are different… no gunshot echo, no screams… they feel nothing. Emotionless. Painless. Robots in human skin.”

  Suddenly shadows twitched around him. Someone slipped through the air behind his back. Then again — darkness shifted on his right.

  Haarun gritted his teeth and whispered angrily:— “Bro… is this a horror movie set or what…”

  Again that sound — someone moving fast. But this time Haarun didn’t wait. His blade flashed forward.

  The sword stabbed straight through Mafia-3’s mouth, splitting his skull clean in half and pinning the body to the wall. Blood dripped down the concrete, making the darkness feel heavier.

  Right then, another one attacked from behind with a full 180° swing. Haarun ducked instantly — the blade sliced nothing but air.

  From below, Haarun launched a savage uppercut punch — so strong the guy’s chest exploded open, splitting into two halves.

  Right before he could breathe, another guy dropped from behind with a sword — The blade aimed straight to split Haarun’s skull in one clean strike.

  But Haarun flipped his own blade up — the counter hit like a damn lightning bolt. The guy was shredded mid-air, pieces scattering across the tunnel.

  Mafia-1 fired again. Haarun sprinted toward him like a shadow thief — This time he didn’t just cut the bullet, he sliced the bullet and the guy’s arm and the gun in the same motion. One leap behind — a brutal horizontal sweep — the head rolled off instantly.

  Haarun’s eyes narrowed. In a cold, flat tone, he muttered:— “These ones aren’t normal… no gunshot echo, no screams… it’s like they don’t feel anything. Emotionless, Painless, Robots.”

  Suddenly a shadow twitched around him. Someone sliced the air behind his back. Then again — on his right side.

  Haarun clenched his teeth and whispered angrily:— “Bro… is this a horror movie shoot or what…”

  Again, that sound — someone sprinting too fast. But this time Haarun didn’t wait. His blade flashed forward.

  The sword stabbed straight into Mafia-3’s mouth, split his skull clean open, and pinned the corpse to the wall. Blood trickled down the concrete, thickening the darkness even more.

  Right then another attacker swung a full 180° slash from behind. Haarun dropped low — the blade cut nothing but air.

  From below he launched a vicious uppercut — so strong the guy’s chest exploded open, splitting in two.

  Then Haarun snatched Mafia-5’s sword mid-movement. With one clean spin, he sliced Mafia-4’s entire body down the middle in a single second.

  In no time, the whole tunnel filled with corpses, blood, and torn-apart limbs scattered everywhere. Haarun’s suit was soaked red.

  Right then — a dagger sliced through the air straight toward Haarun’s head.

  Haarun shifted his head by a fraction of a second, his eyes flashing with a deadly red glow. He snapped his hand up and caught the dagger mid-air like it was nothing.

  Through clenched teeth, Haarun growled:— “Back-to-back sneak attacks? My patience is literally on its last pixel…”

  Behind him stood Mafia-5 — two daggers in hand, eyes cold as frozen death. Haarun stepped toward him, voice low and furious:— “I’m not here to play with you.”

  The moment the words ended, Mafia-5 lunged like a storm. Haarun dropped the dagger he was holding and shot forward at sound-breaking speed.

  He ducked under the attack, spun around, grabbed both of the guy’s legs, and launched him into the air.

  One brutal spin — then CRASH!

  The body slammed into the tunnel wall so hard it shattered into pieces. The impact shook the entire tunnel, dust raining down from the ceiling.

  Haarun stood still for a moment. Then from his chest came a deep, savage roar:— “ANYONE ELSE? If you’re here, come out!”

  Silence. No footsteps, no breath — just blood, ruin, and Haarun’s heavy breathing filling the tunnel.

  Haarun walked back to where he’d dropped his sword. When he picked it up and turned toward the wall, something caught his eye — a faintly carved code number glowing in the dim light.

  A slow grin stretched across his face. He immediately contacted Rayn and the Hacker. In an amused tone, he said:— “Hello, this is Bloodfang Weapon Rank A-24498 speaking. Found a code number inside the Maintenance Tunnel.”

  The Hacker’s calm, icy voice replied:— “Got it. You two head to the platform. I’m already there.”

  As soon as the call ended, Haarun launched himself toward the platform at bullet-train speed. Halfway through the tunnel, he ran right into Rayn.

  Rayn’s voice was calm, almost too calm:— “So, you found the code number?”

  Haarun chuckled and replied in his usual blunt tone:— “Yeah, I did. But for that one stupid code, I had to slice down three guys… then another five right after.”

  He paused, a confused look crossing his face:— “Rayn… I noticed something while fighting them. Not a single one of them showed any kind of emotion. No fear, no pain — nothing. Did you feel the same?”

  Rayn’s reply came cold and flat:— “Yeah. Same. Feels like someone brainwashed the hell out of them.”

  Right as he said that, the two of them stepped onto the platform.

  The place looked like a long, empty corridor carved from darkness. Broken lights flickered overhead, half-torn posters hung on cracked walls.

  The tracks below were swallowed by pitch-black void, and the wet metallic smell from the rails filled the air.

  Old train coaches lay scattered everywhere — some tilted on the tracks, some flipped over entirely.

  Shattered benches, rusted signboards… The station didn’t look like a station anymore — more like an abandoned graveyard. In the middle of the platform, someone was sitting.

  He wore clothes similar to Rayn and Haarun, but unlike them, he had no sword or gun. Instead, two neon-blue hologram screens floated beside his head.

  Around him, ten small drones armed with guns and cameras buzzed quietly in the air. This was him — the A-Rank Hacker.

  Eighteen bodies lay scattered around him — half burned, half cut apart — The entire place looked like it had witnessed a silent massacre.

  Rayn and Haarun walked up and stated their ranks. The Hacker looked at them, calm as ice:— “Bloodfang Weapon,” he asked, “What’s the code number?”

  Haarun answered casually:— “The code number is 36345.”

  The Hacker nodded, voice still steady:— “Okay. So now we search this entire platform for that number. Wherever the number appears — that’s where the secret door is most likely hidden.”

  Haarun asked in a slightly confused tone:— “Bro… how do you even know the secret door is here?”

  The Hacker answered calmly:— “I picked up a signal from a very powerful system in this exact spot. The radiation level here is abnormally high. So yeah — the secret door is definitely somewhere around here. I just can’t pinpoint the exact location.”

  As soon as he finished, all three of them spread out and started searching. Platform, tracks, bogies, coaches, the metro tunnel — they swept through everything.

  Rayn noticed random English markings scattered in different places — codes, warnings, broken signboards — but none of them matched the number Haarun found.

  Even after searching for a long time, they found nothing. The trio regrouped in one spot.

  Haarun said in an annoyed voice:— “I swear… it feels like we came to the wrong place.”

  The Hacker replied coldly:— “No. We’re in the right place… I just didn’t expect finding the secret door to be this damn hard.”

  Rayn didn’t say a word. He quietly closed his eyes — like he was analyzing something deep inside his mind. Haarun and the Hacker fell silent, watching him.

  After a moment, Rayn slowly opened his eyes and said casually:— “I think I found the secret door.”

  Haarun and the Hacker immediately understood — Rayn had caught a clue.

  Rayn stepped down onto the tracks and motioned for them to follow him deeper into the dark metro tunnel.

  The tunnel was suffocatingly dark. Collapsed coaches blocked parts of the path, a rotten smell hung in the air, and dust fell from the cracked ceiling — like the tunnel could collapse any moment.

  Rayn finally stopped at a particular spot and said with full confidence:— “This is where the secret door should be.”

  Haarun frowned:— “But there’s no number here. Nothing at all. How can this be the place?”

  Rayn smirked with that cold little attitude of his:— “The number you found… it’s fake.”

  Outfit non-canon structure: