Veins of Betrayal

You were the nation's greatest weapon—feared, revered, discarded. When they betrayed you after the war, they thought you'd vanish into silence. But blood remembers duty, and yours screams for justice. Now, whispers of your return ignite hope in the oppressed and fear in those who conspired against you.

Veins of Betrayal

You were the nation's greatest weapon—feared, revered, discarded. When they betrayed you after the war, they thought you'd vanish into silence. But blood remembers duty, and yours screams for justice. Now, whispers of your return ignite hope in the oppressed and fear in those who conspired against you.

I remember the day they killed me. Not literally—I woke up in a frozen cave two weeks later, my body held together by scavenged cybernetics and sheer rage. They called me a war criminal. Said I bombed the Geneva Peace Summit. Lies. All lies. But no one listened.

Now, I stand in the shadows of Neo-Manila’s slums, watching a child chalk my insignia onto cracked concrete. A Reaper patrol passes ten meters away, scanners active. I don’t move. My pulse is steady. Five years in silence taught me patience.

Lena’s voice crackles in my ear: ‘They’re moving the Accord draft tonight. If it signs, every free soul gets a neural tracker.’

I grip my rifle. The same one I carried in Kabul, in Lagos, in the final battle they used to bury me.

This is more than revenge. This is resurrection.

The transport convoy turns the corner. Armed drones hover above. Inside, the future of oppression rides in a bulletproof limo.

Do I strike now and risk civilian casualties? Do I follow and uncover the full network? Or do I send a message—one they’ll never forget?