Apex War God: The Revenge Machine

General Bryan Miller adjusted the collar of his military uniform. His troops stood at attention, watching as an extraordinary force departed from them. "All salute the War God!" one sharp voice called out, and the rest followed suit, saluting diligently. He had been through hell and back in the past five years of military service. But in that hell, he made sure to make a name for himself, earning the top spot and the title of Apex War God. Today was his retirement day, and the private plane waiting for him represented the end of an era. "Mr. President?" Bryan murmured, his brows knitting together. "What could he be doing here?" It was usually the president's assistant who presented the official retirement letter, not the president himself. The president, usually a hard figure, looked visibly distressed. His eyes were swollen. “General Miller,” the president greeted, extending a hand that trembled slightly. “I’m glad you’re here.” Bryan shook the president’s hand firmly. “Mr. President, I’m here for the retirement letter. I’ve earned this.” The president’s voice cracked as he spoke. “Bryan, I... I need to ask you for something before you retire. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I need you to take on one last mission.” Bryan raised an eyebrow. “What could be so special? I've served for five years already. All I want is to retire.” The president’s expression hardened with grief. “A group of terrorists killed my wife last night. They stole over 800 million dollars and kidnapped my daughter. They plan to kill her. Please, I need your help.” Bryan’s heart sank. “I’m deeply sorry for your loss and for your daughter. But there’s an entire barrack of troops that could handle this mission. I’ve earned my retirement.” The president’s eyes filled with desperation. “Bryan, I know you have. But you’re not just any soldier. In decades, we’ve never seen anyone like you. The entire force isn’t a match for your strength. You rose to the highest rank for a reason—you’re the Apex War God.” Bryan’s face grew stern. “I’ve made my decision, Mr. President.” Before Bryan could say another word, the president handed him an official letter detailing his last mission. Bryan glanced at the letter, and his eyes widened at the name of the terrorist group. "BVG, the Black Viper Group," he murmured, raising his head to meet the president’s eyes. His heartbeat quickened, and his veins began to pulse rapidly. The president noticed Bryan’s reaction. “Do you know them?” Bryan’s jaw tightened, dark and painful memories flooding his mind. “I do. They killed my father. I’ve been searching for them for years, but I was told they disbanded.” The president nodded grimly. “Yes, they did break up after committing a major crime. They went underground. But now they’re back, and they’re stronger than ever.” Bryan’s teeth clenched as memories of that fateful night resurfaced. The pain of his father’s death felt fresh, a wound that had never fully healed. The president continued, “The letter contains the names of 27 BVG members. The mission is called Operation 235.” Bryan looked at the president, the anger in his eyes unmistakable. “Operation 235: Eliminate the Enemy,” Bryan said coldly, reciting the mission's aim. The president placed a hand on Bryan’s shoulder. “You’re the only one who can do this. Save my daughter and avenge your father. Please.” Bryan slowly squeezed the paper in his hand, anger overtaking him, his eyes visibly red. "My retirement will have to wait!" Bryan growled. LYRA’S INKING SHOP General Bryan Miller sat with his head bowed, his bare back exposed as the soft hum of the tattoo device filled the room. He had left the barracks a few hours ago to begin his mission. In the military, this was his final mission before being granted his retirement letter. MISSION TYPE: OPERATION 235 MISSION AIM: ELIMINATE THE ENEMY This mission wasn’t just about saving Freya, the president's daughter. The BVG had killed his father five years ago and framed him for it. Drawn out of his thoughts, Bryan noticed that Lyra, the tattoo artist, had suddenly stopped working on the tattoo on his back. "What’s with all these names? Thirty names is quite a lot, don't you think?" Lyra finally asked, breaking the silence. Bryan didn’t respond immediately. He wasn’t in the mood for conversation, and the memories associated with those names weighed heavily on him. "I mean, it’s a little weird, don’t you think?" she continued, her voice softer now. "For someone to suddenly decide they want a list of thirty names tattooed on their back..." Bryan’s patience wore thin. “Those are not random names!” he said in a low tone, showing he was losing his patience with her questions. Lyra blinked, taken aback by his tone. She cleared her throat, realizing she might have pushed too far. Bryan remained still, his mind drifting once more. Slowly, memories from five years ago started to surface... Those names etched on his back were not random at all, as Lyra had called them. The first name on the list was his ex-girlfriend, Kira Adams; the second was her father, Henri Adams; the third was her uncle, Francis Adams. The remaining 27 names belonged to members of a dark mafia group known as the Black Viper Group (BVG). Bryan had once been deeply in love with Kira, who came from a middle-class family. As a billionaire and the son of a presidential candidate, Bryan lived a life of extreme wealth and privilege. Everything changed in a single night. Kira and her father conspired with the Black Vipers to murder Bryan’s father and frame Bryan for the crime. The police labeled Bryan a terrorist, and he became a fugitive, wrongly accused of killing his own father, a prominent public figure. While Bryan was in hiding from the police for a crime he didn’t commit, his girlfriend seized control of all his assets and sold them using his signature. Bryan managed to clear his name of his father's murder, but with no evidence to prove who the true murderer was. He became poor and powerless without money. That was when he decided to join the military. “Hey!” Lyra's voice cut into Bryan's thoughts. Bryan blinked, pulled back to the present. He stared at her in surprise. He had been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn't noticed she had finished. Bryan paid her, stood up, and slipped his shirt back on. With that, he tore the paper bearing the list into shreds, his jaw clenched. He now had the list of his greatest enemies on his back. His jaw tightened as he thought about how he would rip each and every one of the people on that list apart. He walked toward the glass door. The moment his hand grasped the doorknob to open it, the glass shattered. A sharp, deafening crack filled the air, and pain exploded in his right arm. A bullet had just struck him from out of nowhere. “Bryan!” Lyra, the tattoo artist, screamed in fear and shock. Bryan staggered backward, clutching his bleeding arm, his eyes wide with disbelief. The shooting continued, each bullet splintering the glass, sending shards flying. Lyra rushed to him, pulling him down behind the couch. “Stay down!” Bryan gritted his teeth against the pain, panting. He raised his head just enough to peer over the couch. Through the broken glass, he spotted a black van screeching to a halt in front of the shop. The letters “BVG” were scrawled in red ink across its side. Lyra’s voice trembled as she asked, “Who are they, and why are they at my shop?” Bryan kept silent for a moment, the truth sinking in like ice in his veins. Finally, he turned to her. “Someone told them I was coming for them; they found me first,” he said. At that moment, the van outside opened, and three men with loaded guns stepped out, wearing BVG uniforms.