dim light

Darkness. Absolute, all-consuming darkness. Only the sound of cold, dripping water echoed in the endless silence, marking the passage of time. Keegan's consciousness flickered stubbornly amidst the icy, dark river and the suffocating feeling of oxygen deprivation. With an iron will, he protected his head, enduring one violent impact after another in the pitch-black, rocky waterway. His lungs were long since empty; each instinctive breath drew in icy water, bringing a burning pain. He drifted in the darkness for an unknown amount of time until the current finally calmed, carrying him into a relatively open underground lake. The instinct for survival gave him a final burst of strength, and he struggled to the surface.

"Cough! Cough cough cough—!" He coughed violently, spitting out the river water he had swallowed, and greedily inhaling the thin, damp air. All around him was still pitch black, with only the vast sound of the underground lake and the low roar of the distant waterfall. Guided by his senses, he struggled to paddle to the shore, found a slippery but hard rock platform, and climbed up with all his might.

The moment his body left the icy lake water, a bone-chilling cold swept over him like a tidal wave, causing him to shiver uncontrollably. Hypothermia was his most deadly enemy at the moment. He forced himself to calm down and quickly and laboriously conducted a self-check. His main weapon and most of his equipment had been lost in the rapids. Fortunately, his personal dagger was still in the holster on his leg, and the small indicator light of the squad's standard emergency beacon launcher, strapped to his tactical vest, was faintly but stubbornly flashing a green light.

In this isolated abyss, this was his only, faint connection to the outside world. He had to find a way out as soon as possible, or at least a signal that could penetrate a weak point in the thick rock. He curled up, trying to minimize heat loss. By comparing the terrain information Elaine had provided with his memory, and relying on his extraordinary senses and wilderness survival experience, he struggled to perceive in the absolute darkness—touching the texture of the rock walls and the flow of air with his fingertips, catching the slightest changes in the sounds of water and wind with his ears, searching for any possible glimmer of hope leading to the outside world.

Inside the "Stone House" safe zone, the air was heavy, like lead. Only the low hum of the servers and the crisp sound of Elaine's keyboard clicks filled the air. She had been working continuously for over ten hours; her eyes were bloodshot, and her face was pale with exhaustion and anxiety. On the multiple screens in front of her, dense streams of data and map information scrolled incessantly. Following Ghost's instructions, she was frantically searching for all information related to the "Eye of Horus," cross-referencing it with Elsa and Kruger's known activity patterns.

Progress was frustratingly slow. Most information about the Eye of Horus in public databases pointed to mysticism or common tattoo designs, offering no real value. Just when she was about to give up on this lead, a chance discovery during a deep dive into the remnants of a defunct high-end custom jewelry database revealed a record—an extremely similar design of the Eye of Horus, labeled "Custom-made, Reference: Variation of the Brotherhood emblem 'Ring of Anubis'."

“The Ring of Anubis?” Elaine’s heart skipped a beat, and she immediately followed this lead. Through scattered fragments of information found in fringe cybersecurity logs and outdated mercenary forum archives, she pieced together a vague outline: the “Ring of Anubis” was an extremely secretive, long-disbanded fraternity-like organization composed of top retired special forces soldiers from multiple countries, known for its loyalty, silence, and exceptional combat capabilities. And the Eye of Horus was the identifying mark of its core members. However, all the information indicated that the organization’s identifier was only the Eye of Horus itself, never mentioning any additional letters.

This discovery stunned Elaine. If the tattoos were a symbol of the fraternity, then where did the "E" on Kruger's body and the "K" on Elsa's body come from?

A bold, almost intuitive guess formed in her mind: these two letters were likely not part of the organization's insignia, but rather something Kruger and Elsa added later—a highly private agreement between them. The "E" on Kruger represented Elsa, and the "K" on Elsa represented Kruger. This guess startled her. If it were true… then Kruger's intense reaction to Elsa's name was not merely an organizational connection, but likely contained an extremely deep, unspoken personal emotion between the two of them—perhaps a profound love, or a bond that transcended life and death.

This realization struck Elaine like a lightning bolt, shattering her singular impression of Kruger as a cold-blooded mercenary. A man who would carve the name of someone he loved (or respected) on his body, a man who would instantly lose control upon hearing that name… He might be cruel, dangerous, and willing to risk his life for money, but deep down, he might also harbor hidden vulnerabilities and emotions. He was more than just a war machine.

This discovery was too subjective and personal for her to report as conclusive intelligence to Ghost. However, she kept it in mind, knowing it could be a breakthrough should she have to confront Kruger again in the future.

Just then, the screen next to her, which had been monitoring the beacon frequency, suddenly emitted a sharp and continuous alarm! A familiar coded signal, weak but steady, came from a coordinate point in the northwest!

"Found it! It's Keegan! His signal! Coordinates locked!" Elaine's voice lost its usual calmness due to excitement. She immediately sent the precise coordinates and signal strength data to Ghost.

In the encrypted channel, Ghost's voice was cold and swift, carrying an undeniable decisiveness: "Attention all, confirm the Keegan signal source. Hesh, Konig, execute the 'Lightning Rescue' protocol, advance at full speed to the target coordinates. I will occupy the high ground to provide remote cover and path guidance. Elaine, continuously monitor signal stability and all surrounding electromagnetic activity, report any abnormalities immediately."

"Roger!" Hesh and Konig's responses were brief and crisp. The two figures moved silently from the temporary camp like cheetahs, stealthily making their way towards the signal's source. Ghost, like a phantom blending into the shadows, quickly disappeared into the jungle heights, searching for the best sniping and observation positions. The entire rescue operation began to operate like intricate gears.

The rescue process felt like an eternity, with every second stretching out. Hesh and Konig followed the calm directions given by Ghost from above, navigating treacherous cliffs and raging torrents until they finally found the barely alive Keegan deep within a narrow crevice in the rocks, half-hidden by churning steam downstream.

He sat slumped against the cold rock, his helmet nowhere to be seen. His soaked black hair clung to his forehead, and his face was an ominous ashen white. The intense heat made his breathing rapid and hot; his chapped lips were bloodless, clearly indicating severe dehydration. Most shockingly, his left arm bore a deep, bone-revealing gash that stretched from his elbow to his wrist. The hastily applied bandage was now soaked in blood, blackened, and stuck to the torn flesh.

However, when the footsteps and urgent calls of his comrades broke through the rushing water, Keegan's eyes behind his goggles snapped open! Though his eyes were shrouded in tired dark circles, they still held the clarity of someone who had survived a close call and a hint of instinctive vigilance. He scanned the approaching figures, and only when he confirmed that it was Hesh and Konig did his tense shoulders relax almost imperceptibly.

"How...are you?" Hesh's deep, hoarse voice carried a barely perceptible anxiety. He knelt on one knee, swiftly and professionally examining Keegan's injuries, his brow furrowed. Keegan didn't answer immediately, only shaking his head very slightly before trying to stand up on his own. But the severity of his injuries and weakness caused his body to sway uncontrollably, almost causing him to fall.

“Don’t… push yourself.” Konig immediately stepped forward, using his strong shoulders to firmly support Keegan’s almost exhausted body, his voice full of worry: “It’s okay, we’ll take you… back.”

The return journey was even more difficult. Hesh and Konig, one on each side, practically half-carried and half-dragged Keegan across the slippery rocks. Keegan gritted his teeth, veins bulging on his forehead, each step pushing his willpower to the limit, refusing to completely relinquish his weight to his comrade, stubbornly maintaining the last shred of dignity and clarity.

When the three disheveled figures finally staggered into view of the temporary safe point, Elaine, who had been waiting anxiously at the edge of the camp, suddenly straightened up. Her gaze pierced through the dim light, locking onto the familiar yet unfamiliar figure being supported—Keegan's pale, bloodless face, his combat uniform torn and stained with mud and blood by rocks and branches, and the shocking, still slowly bleeding bandage on his left arm… All of this felt like a cold, iron clamp suddenly tightening around her heart, making her gasp for breath, as if time itself had stopped flowing.

Just then, as if sensing something, Keegan struggled to lift his head, his gaze passing over Hesh and Konig's shoulders, precisely landing on Elaine's figure. His grey-blue eyes, somewhat unfocused due to high fever and blood loss, suddenly coalesced into a complex and indescribable emotion the moment their eyes met—concern, inquiry, relief, and above all, an undisguised extreme exhaustion. He nodded very slightly, almost imperceptibly, in her direction.

It was just a tiny movement, but it instantly shattered Elaine's nerves, which had been taut for who knows how long. A strong pang of pain shot through her nose and eyes, blurring her vision. She abruptly lowered her head, blinked hard, forcing back the warm tears that were about to spill, then quickly turned and ran to prepare clean drinking water, disinfectant, and new bandages.

All the pent-up worries, the deep-seated fears, and the turbulent emotions of the moment converged in that brief but heavy, silent reassurance.

Just as the Ghost Squad breathed a brief sigh of relief at Keegan's return, a few kilometers away, on a high vantage point overlooking the entire valley area, a miniature drone disguised as a large tropical bird hovered silently, transmitting real-time footage from the distance.

Kruger stared at the blurry image of Keegan's rescue on the screen, a cold, unreadable smile playing on his lips. He whispered into his encrypted headset, his voice hoarse: "'Falcon,' keep your distance and monitor them, record their movements and possible landing spots. I need to know where they're headed next." He lowered his binoculars, his gaze darkening as he stared into the distance.

“Elsa… ‘The Night Watch’…” He murmured, chewing on these keywords, a complex calculation and a deeper hatred flashing in his eyes. “Ghost Squad, we’ll meet again soon. You’d better stay alive until the truth comes out.”

That evening, at a temporary safe haven, Keegan received emergency treatment and replenished his energy, regaining some strength. Elaine reported her findings to Ghost, Keegan, Hesh, and Konig, who were sitting together: "It's almost certain that Elsa and Kruger belonged to a top-tier fraternity of retired special forces soldiers called 'The Ring of Anubis.' That's the origin of their tattoos." She paused, skipping over her personal speculation about the letters, and continued, "More importantly, while tracing Kruger's financial flows related to Makarov, I intercepted a fragmented encrypted message that repeatedly mentioned a project codenamed 'The Night Watch,' which is highly correlated with Makarov's recent unusual financial flows and points to a specific coordinate—a long-abandoned high-altitude observatory deep in the Andes Mountains." She projected the coordinates onto a makeshift tactical board.

Ghost stared at the new coordinates, his gaze sharp as a knife beneath his skull mask. He paused for a moment, then his deep voice echoed through the silent forest: "'The Night Watch'... It seems our 'old friend' Kruger has unwittingly pointed us to a new path that may lead to the core Makarov plan. Six hours of rest, and at dawn, we'll set off for the new coordinates."