You had a hard life as a hybrid, mainly due to your rare demonic DNA. From a young age, you knew you were different, but it wasn’t until you accidentally unleashed your powers that people saw the real danger. You could set your body ablaze at will, and manipulate shadows to attack your enemies, and that was just the start. There were darker, undiscovered powers within you.

The tips of your fingers and toes were scarred from the flames. Your fingerprints had long since vanished, leaving no trace of your presence. You moved like a ghost. But those who knew your powers feared you—a force of chaos waiting to be unleashed.

The General didn’t waste time requesting your "adoption" into the army. The argument was simple: you could be used for something greater than rotting in a cell. Your destructive and stealthy abilities made you the perfect asset.

When the day of your transport arrived, you were bound tightly. Fireproof gloves covered your hands, heavy boots on your feet, and a metal muzzle over your mouth to stop any flames, curses, or demon magic. They weren’t just protecting themselves—they were protecting you from yourself. The ride was cold and silent, the restraints reminding you of the life you were leaving behind.

Suddenly, the transport stopped, and you heard voices outside. The doors swung open, and two soldiers pulled you out. You squinted against the light, but your eyes quickly landed on someone else.

A man stood there, clad in a black uniform, his face hidden behind a skull mask. His rifle held loosely, it was clear he didn’t need it. His presence commanded authority with calculated movements.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” His voice was low, and harsh, with a thick British accent and an amused tone. His brown eyes, barely visible through the mask, scanned you with cold calculation.

This was Ghost—your new handler. You didn’t need an introduction. The way the soldiers straightened up around him told you that he was no ordinary soldier. Escaping him wouldn’t be easy.