I wasn't surprised that they decided to use this enormous, armored vessel full of heavily armed men to transport the most dangerous man in the world across the globe. What did surprise me, however, was that the East had sent one of the best soldiers this earth had ever produced. Codename: "Phantom." There were rumors about him, but no one really knew his story. When I stepped out of the cabin, he was talking to two guards and noticed my presence. He said a few more words to them and then approached me.
— I'm sorry we haven't had the opportunity to meet in person, Mr. Dragon.
— The pleasure is mine. I'm glad you're assisting us in this operation.
— I've been put in charge of this transport, so I'll make sure everything goes according to plan.
Then his phone rang. He excused himself and walked away. He seemed decent, at least on the surface, I thought.
The subject had been placed in a prison at the lowest level of the ship, so it was a long way to reach him. On top of that, he had been given a new pair of handcuffs and was immobilized again. They weren't aware of what he was capable of. My phone buzzed at that moment. When I looked, it was a message:
— Good, we're starting the plan.
— Andreas Shinja
I could hear commotion coming from above and noticed a faint smell of smoke. Someone had opened my cell. I knew something was happening, but I wasn't sure what exactly. The handcuffs on my face had fallen off and I saw the Dragon individual from a few hours ago.
— Listen, we need to meet up on the roof. There's an evacuation helicopter there. I've sabotaged the engine. Take the longer route through the warehouse. Make sure no one sees you. I'm going to take care of the other engines and blow this vessel up.
He went off in one direction and I took another. I reached the warehouse he had told me about. It was full of metal containers and wooden boxes. I spotted an exit near the control room. I went to climb the ladder leading to the walkway, but just as I reached the top, a man appeared at the other end.
— Going somewhere? he said before kicking me back down to the ground.
He jumped off the walkway, did a forward flip, and landed on both feet. He moved slowly and pulled a combat knife from his back—most likely made for killing. He started spinning it around his index finger.
— My orders say I have to bring you back alive, and I'm not one to disobey orders. But I'm curious to see what this man who will bring about the apocalypse is capable of.
— ...
While spinning the knife, he got closer and swung an upward diagonal slash with it, which I blocked with a backflip and kicked his hand in the process. The strike moved his hand upward, and he scratched himself above the left eye with his own knife. I landed on my feet, but at the same time, the knife flew between my legs and got stuck in the floor.
— Impressive! I didn't think I'd find someone these days who could even scratch me.
— ...
As he said that, he moved behind a support pillar. When he emerged from the other side, he was no longer wearing his coat or the clothes underneath—he was now dressed only in pants and slippers. On the front and back of his body, countless scars from bullets and cuts could be seen.
— I've fought in countless wars, and none have taken me down. I want to see what you're capable of, kid, he said as he pulled out a massive black-bladed knife from his back.
— ...
The knife didn't seem normal, emitting what felt like a supernatural energy. I picked up the knife from the ground and turned the blade downward. My opponent got ready. I attacked with a knife strike, but he blocked it with his blade and twisted around, catching the arm I held the weapon in. With his other elbow, he tried to strike me in the eye, but I blocked it. He switched tactics, attempting a stab to the opposite side of my eye, but I grabbed his arm and made a risky move. I kicked him in the spleen. Quickly, I rotated my knife for an upward diagonal slash, but he caught my hand. He tried stabbing me from the other side, but I caught that hand too. We stood face to face. We both pulled against each other, but neither moved. He tried headbutting me twice in the forehead, but I dodged. I attempted a sidekick. He pulled back the arm with the weapon and grabbed my leg. I hit him with the other leg—this time right in the face. Since he held me so tightly, I pulled myself over his body and kicked him in the chin. I landed on the ground and he spun around once. We both leaped back into the fight. A storm of slashes, attacks, and defenses raged between us. Our hands separated, and then we were wrist to wrist. My blade at his face, his blade at mine.
— You fight better than a pro—I suppose that's why you're a weapon of war.
— ...
Then something happened that shocked both of us. His knife's blade grew and stabbed me in the throat. Instinctively, I pushed the man away and, at the same time, cut off his fingers. I felt like I couldn't breathe. I was suffocating. My opponent knelt on the ground, holding his hand, trying to stop the bleeding.
— Even though I've survived countless wars, everyone I loved didn't have the same luck—or curse, more like. On my last return from a mission, I was attending yet another funeral. I noticed something on the grave that hadn't been there before. It was this knife with a black blade. I didn't know where it came from. It wasn't from any of my comrades. When I tried to touch it, a hand grabbed my forearm and someone spoke from behind: "If you take this knife, along with it you'll receive the mission to deliver it to its master. That knife is not normal. When you find its master, you'll die in peace, because this is a mission from God." Somehow, this person knew I had planned to end my life that night. Normally, I wouldn't have taken on such a mission, but since it came from God, I spent the rest of my life searching for its master—and it looks like I've found him.
The knife was now fully inside me, and I felt a sense of renewal, like I had just lived life with a burden, and now I had let it go. The man was now on his knees, eyes closed, head lifted to the sky.
— What's your name? I asked.
— My name is Feofilakt Ivanov, but all my life I've been called Phantom...
A vertical cut along his neck appeared. Blood started to gush from it.
— I hope your God gave you that peaceful death in your eternal resting place, Feofilakt.
Those old, white pajama-like clothes were bothering me. It was time for a change—I suddenly changed my old clothes into an elegant outfit, complete with a coat identical to Phantom's.
-Subject Y.K.
"At the same time"
I hurried to the helicopter. I wanted to check it before departure to make sure it wasn't being tracked. As for the subject, all I could do was trust him. We couldn't be seen together, or they'd know I was the one responsible for sabotaging the engines.
— Leaving already, Mr. Dragon? came a voice from behind.
It was Phantom, holding a pistol pointed at me.
— After destroying our engines, you're leaving without saying goodbye? Is that how they do things in America?
I raised my hands so he wouldn't shoot and said:
— You have your orders, and I have mine. I'm just following them.
— Among your orders, I suppose, is the release of the subject. I'll take another guess—something tells me you're waiting for him.
— ...!
— Well, we'll see what he's capable of, because right now I'm dealing with him.
I suddenly lunged at him. He fired a few bullets, but I dodged them thanks to my parasite-enhanced reflexes. I reached him and punched him in the jaw, but it wasn't enough to knock him out. Still standing, he shot me in the left leg. I wrapped my right arm in armor and stabbed him with my claws, piercing through his left side. It wasn't over—two more Phantoms appeared behind me. I armored my other arm and struck one in the head, killing him. The other had an SMG and started firing at me. I blocked the bullets with my armor as I moved toward him. When we were face to face, I hit him with my right, then my left, then a right uppercut. When I looked around, I was surrounded by more Phantoms.
— Come on! Let's see what you've got! I said with a smile.
They came at me with knives—I blocked, reversed their arms. They shot at me—I dodged, grabbed their barrels, and slammed them into their heads. Three jumped at me with knives, but with a body spin and my right hand extended, I burned all three. Then one appeared next to me with a shotgun aimed at my abdomen. I was dead. A knife flew and hit him right in the head.
— Don't forget to watch your back!
— You made it! Thanks for the help!
It was the subject—but he looked different than before. He wore dress pants and shoes, a white shirt, and a coat. His eyes were now purple.
— What happened? I asked.
After he told me what had occurred, I said:
— I owe you some explanations, but later. What you need to know is that the weapon with the black blade is now inside you—that's why your eyes are purple.
The subject paused for a moment and then formed a purple tie around his neck, seemingly from nowhere.
— The ability to change his appearance, create allies, and manipulate their minds and looks.
— And to create weapons out of nothing, added the subject. As you can see, their weapons have disappeared—the only one still here is the knife I threw.
— Whoever has this ability becomes a one-man army. And the guards from the beginning? They were created by Phantom...
I vomited blood. I had been hit by several bullets. My suit was torn, sweat pouring down my face. My glasses had one cracked lens.
— Man, what now? he asked, helping me up.
— I told you I owe you an explanation. We're going to the person who will answer all your questions.
An explosion went off at the front of the ship.
— Hurry! The boat will blow at any moment. I planted bombs in the lower part of the ship.
We got into the helicopter and headed to the designated meeting point, wondering what were the chances of encountering an obsidian weapon—let alone that our subject here would be a host for it.
-Andreas Shinja