Headquarters. National Intelligence Command Center – Location Classified
The room pulsed with tension.
Red dots flashed on a global map—dozens, then hundreds—each a flare of chaos, burning across continents.
Detective Jin stood before it all, cigarette between his fingers, jaw clenched tight.
Around him sat silence.No one dared interrupt him now.
He pointed at a name with no photo, no file, no fingerprint.Just a name spoken like a curse.
"There's someone behind this," Jin said."Someone no one's seen. Someone whose name even the worst people fear whispering."
He took a drag, the smoke curling through the air like ghosts from another war.
"They only call him one thing—The Black Commandment."
The room went still.
"He moves armies without borders. Controls syndicates without flags. He doesn't threaten. He commands. And when he does… people disappear."
A general leaned forward, skeptical."You're saying one man is doing this?"
Jin turned toward him."No."He paused. Let the room hold its breath.
"I'm saying one ghost is tearing the world apart… for a girl."
Meanwhile… across oceans and borders…
The world's most powerful intelligence networks—Interpol, CIA, MSS, Mossad, FSB—all launched trace protocols.
They found nothing.
No fingerprints.No history.No leaks.No past.
Then came the whispers from the criminal underground.
A man had been captured.
A minor broker from the human auction chains.Found shaking in an alley in Prague.Dragged into an underground blacksite cell.
The man was pale.He had stopped blinking.Stopped answering.He only wrote.
And what he wrote made even seasoned agents still.
"He wears black…"
His voice dipped into a whisper, shaking.
"A long coat. Tailored like death itself. And a mask…"
He looked up, trembling.
"Not just a mask. A face carved from nightmares. Jet-black, with silver horns curling back… and glowing red slits where his eyes should be."
The interrogator asked quietly:
"Like a demon?"
"No," the man choked."Worse. A demon has purpose. This thing? He's the silence between thunder and impact. The shadow between blinking and dying."
He drew a sketch.
A tall, rigid figure.Black coat like smoke.A mask with devil's precision.And eyes that didn't burn—they watched.
Watched like fate itself had teeth.
A notification blinked.
Incoming Encrypted Transmission: UNKNOWN ORIGIN
The command center panicked—firewalls surged.Trace attempts scrambled.
Failed.Failed.Failed.
Then the file forced itself open.
A black screen.Crackling audio.And then…
He appeared.
Kai Ren.
But not the man.
The legend.