"Ashes of Crestfall: The Rise of Aaron San Agustin"

Forty-eight hours later.

The twin-engine stealth jet descended through banks of copper dusk cloud, Africa's western deserts sprawling below like a sea of scorched gold. Inside, the cabin hummed with low mechanical vibration, the air heavy with silent anticipation.

Bravo peered out the window, sunglasses perched atop his cropped blond hair. "Never thought I'd be back on this continent without bullets flying at my ass."

Aaron gave no reply, eyes fixed forward, elbows resting on his knees. His posture was relaxed, but tension radiated off him like heat waves from sunbaked stone.

Specter tied back her jet-black hair with deft movements, her sniper calloused fingers tightening the band. "Any local militia chatter, Ghost?" she asked without looking up.

Ghost sat hunched over his laptop, fingers flicking across keys like an ancient pianist resurrecting a half-forgotten symphony. Lines of code scrolled past in green phosphorescence reflected in his glasses.

"Negative armed activity within a hundred-mile radius. But…" Ghost paused, eyes narrowing, "French Foreign Legion satellite relays picked up movement near Sector 17D. Possible merc company sweeping through abandoned mining routes."

Reaper grunted, cracking his neck side to side. "If they cross into our operational perimeter, we end them."

Aaron shifted, raising a hand to silence further chatter. "Stay sharp. No unnecessary engagements until I give the order."

His phone buzzed. A message from Maxeen:

Convoy awaiting arrival. Preliminary security team deployed. Contractors on standby per your specifications.

Bravo leaned back, arms folded behind his head. "I still can't believe you pulled Shadow Holdings' strings like that, Captain. They're ghosts behind global markets."

Aaron's lips twitched slightly. "Ghosts work well for us."

Maya, reviewing emergency trauma protocols on her tablet, raised her eyes, worry flickering beneath her calm exterior. "Captain… this place is lawless. No treaties, no protection from any state. What if–"

"Then we build our own laws," Aaron cut her off gently but firmly. His tone carried finality that silenced even her.

The jet landed with a muted screech on a private sand-coated runway. As the cabin door hissed open, a blast of dry desert heat rolled in, tinged with scorched iron and sun-baked earth. Outside, six armored SUVs waited, matte-black and silent in formation.

Rook whistled. "Look at this VIP treatment. I could get used to this."

"Don't," Aaron replied. "We build this, not them."

Descending the ramp, they were greeted by a broad-shouldered man in tan tactical fatigues. His skin gleamed with sweat under the harsh sun, rifle slung loosely across his chest.

"Commander San Agustin?" he asked, eyes flicking across the assembled team.

Aaron nodded. "Report."

"Perimeters secured within a five-kilometer radius. Locals approached but were compensated to vacate. Contractors await your inspection. Fuel and supply depots are being established per blueprint directives."

"Good." Aaron glanced back at his team. "Mount up."

As they rolled through jagged dunes and skeletal remains of half-buried mining equipment, silence settled among them. It was not the silence of peace, but of wolves scenting a hunt yet to come.

Finally, Bravo broke it, voice low. "Why here, Captain? Why Africa for your empire's cradle?"

Aaron stared out at the endless horizon of fire-red sand and darkening skies. When he spoke, his voice was as quiet and unyielding as the desert wind.

"Because in the land where no man rules… the strongest becomes king."

Ahead, their destination emerged – a derelict mining compound with rusted towers leaning like drunk sentinels against the dying sun. Their future headquarters. Their first foundation stone.

Specter chuckled softly, rolling her shoulders to loosen them. "Finally. A real hunt."

Reaper chambered his rifle beside her. "Let them come."

As they disembarked under the darkening violet sky, Aaron raised his eyes to the first scattered stars.

"Tonight, we establish."

"And tomorrow?" Bravo asked, stepping up beside him.

Aaron's lips curled into a predator's smile, eyes reflecting the moonlit dunes.

"Tomorrow… we conquer."