Location: Outside Moscow – The Nuclear Desert
Status: Viktor Nova is hunted. Unknown pursuers closing in. Time is running out.
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Under the Sun of Death
The sky was a sickly gray, shrouded in toxic clouds left behind by the war. The sun barely pierced through the haze, casting an eerie glow over the wasteland. The air was thick, laced with the stench of scorched earth and rotting corpses. The desert stretched endlessly, swallowing everything in its path.
Viktor rode across the irradiated dunes on a battered black horse. No roads. No landmarks. Just endless ruin and the ghosts of a fallen world.
He pressed against the bandage covering his right eye. The pain still throbbed, but he had no time for weakness.
In the distance, a cloud of dust rose. Not from the wind—but from riders. Three figures on horseback, closing in fast.
They were armed, their rifles gleaming under the dim sun, their swords rusted but deadly. Their masked faces hid their intent, but Viktor didn't need to see their eyes to know what they wanted.
Death.
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The Game Begins
"You're mine, Nova!" one of them shouted, his voice dripping with hate.
Viktor didn't respond. Words were meaningless now.
Instead, he tightened his grip on the reins and drove his heels into the horse's flanks. The beast surged forward, tearing through the sandstorm that had begun to rise around them.
Gunfire erupted. A bullet whizzed past his ear. Another grazed his shoulder, leaving a burning sting—but he didn't slow down. The wind howled. The dust choked the air.
He glanced back. One of the pursuers was leveling his rifle again.
In an instant, Viktor drew his pistol and fired.
BOOM!
The bullet ripped through the man's wrist. His rifle tumbled into the sand.
But he didn't fall. Instead, he pulled out a long, jagged sword and charged.
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Blood on the Sands
Before the man could strike, Viktor yanked the reins hard, forcing his horse into a sharp turn.
As the pursuer lunged, Viktor moved like a shadow—his knife flashing in the dim light.
"ARGHHH!"
The blade sank into the man's throat. Blood sprayed across the scorched sand. His body tumbled lifelessly to the ground, swallowed by the desert.
But there was no time to breathe.
Two remained.
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Death Approaches
"Kill him!" one of them barked, raising his rifle.
Viktor's mind raced. His horse was tiring. His ammo was running low. He needed to end this—fast.
In a split-second decision, he pulled hard on the reins, bringing his horse to a sudden stop.
The second pursuer, caught off guard, rode past him.
Viktor didn't hesitate. He raised his pistol and fired.
BOOM!
The bullet tore through the man's back, bursting from his chest. He slumped forward, rolling off his horse, dead before he hit the ground.
One left.
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The Final Duel
The last man didn't charge recklessly like the others. He halted his horse, staring at Viktor with a cold, calculating gaze.
"I've been looking for you, Nova," he said, his voice calm.
Viktor said nothing.
He dismounted. Slowly, he reached over his shoulder and drew a short sword. The wind howled around them, stirring the sand into ghostly shapes. The desert itself seemed to wait, eager for more blood.
The man moved first, striking with lightning speed.
He was fast. Faster than Viktor expected.
But not faster than him.
Viktor dodged the initial blow, countering with a slash to the man's leg. The blade cut deep, but the man didn't fall. Instead, he spun, delivering a vicious horizontal strike.
Viktor barely avoided it.
A battle for survival.
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Ending in Blood
They clashed again and again, steel ringing through the wasteland. Seconds stretched into eternity.
Then—his opponent made a fatal mistake.
The man raised his sword high for a finishing blow.
Viktor moved first.
His blade struck like a serpent, driving through the man's chest and out his back.
For a moment, silence.
The man's eyes widened in shock. Then, his body crumpled to the ground, lifeless.
Viktor pulled his blade free, wiping the blood away as he turned toward the horizon.
No more pursuers. No more obstacles.
The road to the coordinates flashing on his stolen laptop was open.
He wiped the sweat and blood from his face, mounted his horse once more, and without a word, he rode west—toward the unknown.
This wasn't the end.
It was only the beginning.
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What Comes Next?
The chase is over, but the real danger is only beginning. Who sent these hunters after Viktor? What lies at the coordinates he's risking his life to reach?
Let me know your thoughts! What do you think will happen in the next chapter? Drop your ideas in the comments!