Green Valor

Final mission

A world in chaos. The war had turned savage. Ghouls with grotesque, contorted faces lunged at anyone in their path, their sharp claws tearing through flesh and bone with horrifying ease.
The streets were littered with debris and bodies, the once towering buildings crumbling under the weight of artillery fire and explosions. Smoke and dust filled the air, creating a thick haze that hung over the battlefield like a shroud.
Search helicopters hovered overhead, their searchlights cutting through the darkness, sweeping across the destruction in search of any signs of life.
The faint whirring of their blades was almost drowned out by the chaos below. Cameras attached to the helicopters broadcasted the gruesome scenes live, beaming them to screens all over the world.
Everyone was watching as Archer's forces slowly gained the upper hand, pushing Cordero's troops back inch by bloody inch. The soldiers, wearing Archer's distinct insignia, moved with deadly precision, their firearms blazing as they carved a path through the ghouls and remaining opposition.
Far away, in the frozen wilderness of Alaska, Woody and his ragtag team were huddled in a dilapidated stable. The cold air seeped through the cracks in the wooden walls, but none of them noticed. They were all gathered around a small, flickering television set, their eyes glued to the screen as the horrors of the war unfolded before them.
"Damn," Woody muttered, his breath visible in the frigid air.
His eyes were hardened, but there was a flicker of something softer in them as he watched the scenes of destruction play out on the screen. "I knew it was bad, but this... this is something else."
Beside him, Diana, a teen girl with curly hair and a fierce look in her eyes, shook her head. "It's a massacre," she said, her voice filled with a mix of fear and anger. "Those ghouls... they're tearing everyone apart. And Archer—he's not stopping. He's actually winning."
"Haven't seen anything like this since the Outbreak," muttered Peter.
Woody glanced around at his team. They were a mismatched bunch, each of them with their own pasts and reasons for being there. They had come together out of necessity, each looking for some semblance of safety in a world gone mad.
The stable they had taken refuge in was a far cry from what they had known, but it was better than nothing.
back to the lavish interior of Cordero's party, now tinged with a sense of dread. The atmosphere had changed dramatically as whispers of the invasion spread through the crowd.
The guests, once lively and carefree, now moved in hushed voices and nervous glances. Some began to filter out, their faces etched with fear, while others clustered together, unsure of what to do.
Jack turned to Yuri, his face set with determination. "Get Saskia out of here," he said firmly. "She has the cure, and we can't risk it falling into the wrong hands."
"But what about you?" Saskia's voice trembled slightly, her eyes wide with concern. She clutched the box tightly, her knuckles white.
Jack forced a smile, trying to mask the turmoil inside him. "I'll be fine," he assured her. "I just need to find Cordero. This ends tonight."
Saskia's eyes filled with unshed tears as she nodded. She wanted to argue, to tell him not to go, but she knew better. Jack had made up his mind, and there was no changing it.
She allowed Yuri to take her arm, guiding her toward the exit. Jack watched them leave, feeling a pang of guilt twist in his stomach, but he turned away quickly, pushing the feeling down. He had to stay focused. He couldn't afford to be distracted now.
He made his way through the crowd, his eyes scanning the room. The stress was starting to get to him. His heart pounded in his chest, and his thoughts raced with what might lie ahead.
As he moved deeper into the building, a television mounted in one of the lounges caught his eye. It was showing live footage of the war outside—the bloodshed, the chaos, the ghouls tearing through everything in their path. Archer's forces were advancing relentlessly, and the streets were bathed in fire and destruction.
The images were a stark reminder of what was at stake, and for a moment, Jack felt a wave of panic.
He forced himself to look away, swallowing hard. He couldn't think about that now. He had to keep his anxiety in check. He had to find Cordero.
A sudden movement caught his attention—a crow perched on a ledge, its dark eyes gleaming in the dim light. It seemed to be watching him, its head cocked to the side as if it were aware of every step he took. Jack shook off the unsettling feeling it gave him and continued on his way.
He saw an official running in the opposite direction, his face pale with fear. Jack grabbed him by the arm, stopping him in his tracks. "Where is Cordero?" he demanded, his voice urgent.
The official looked around frantically, clearly wanting to escape. "I—I don't know," he stammered, then glanced nervously over his shoulder. "He was in his display room, his office. But you shouldn't go there—"
Jack didn't wait for him to finish. He released the man and took off in the direction of Cordero's office. The corridors seemed longer than they were, each step echoing with a mix of anticipation and dread.
His mind raced with possibilities of what he might find. Would Cordero be waiting for him? Would he be prepared for a fight?
Finally, Jack reached the door to the display room, the ornate wood carved with intricate designs. He paused for a moment, his hand hovering over the handle. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. He had to confront Cordero. This was his chance to end it all—to stop the madness, the bloodshed, the lies.
As Jack reached for the door, a muffled noise from inside made him pause. His hand hovered over the handle, and he strained to listen. The sound grew clearer—it was the crackle of a radio.
Jack pressed his ear against the door, his heart racing. Through the wooden barrier, he could hear Cordero's voice, cool and authoritative, barking out orders.
"Leave the wounded behind," Cordero commanded. His tone was devoid of any emotion, as if he were discussing the weather rather than condemning his own men to death.
Jack's breath caught in his throat as the background noise from the radio filled his ears. The screams of injured soldiers pierced the air, their voices twisted with pain and rage. He could hear them shouting, their words blending into a cacophony of despair and hatred. "I hate you!" one voice screamed, followed by a chorus of similar cries.
The horrifying sound of flesh tearing, bones snapping, and the guttural growls of the ghouls reached him. Soldiers were desperately shouting at the creatures to back off, but their pleas were drowned out by the sounds of carnage.
Jack's heart sank. The reality of Cordero's ruthlessness hit him like a punch to the gut. This man was willing to sacrifice anyone and everyone to protect his own interests. The weight of what he was about to do pressed down on him. He felt a sting in his eyes and realized he was tearing up.
His mind raced with thoughts of his comrades, the ones he had fought alongside, the ones who might still be out there, suffering because of Cordero's callousness. If he killed Cordero now, would he be betraying them? Would he become just like the man he sought to stop?
His stomach twisted with uncertainty, but he knew deep down that the war needed to end, and Cordero had to be stopped. With a deep breath, he steadied himself and slowly pushed the door open.
The room was large, grand, with a high ceiling adorned by a magnificent chandelier that bathed the space in a warm, almost ethereal light. The walls were lined with shelves holding priceless artifacts and antiques.
At the far end, Cordero stood with his back to Jack, examining a sword on one of the shelves. For a moment, he seemed lost in thought, but then he turned, sensing Jack's presence.
Cordero's eyes narrowed as he spotted Jack. A flash of shock crossed his face, but it was quickly replaced by a thin, insincere smile. "Ah, Jack," he greeted, his voice dripping with false warmth. "The prodigal son returns. Or should I say... the traitor?"
Jack's blood boiled at the words. He could see through the fake pleasantries. Cordero already knew. He knew about Dr. Wormsly's betrayal, about Archer's alliance, about everything. And now, he was trying to unsettle Jack, to manipulate him as he had done to so many others.
Jack clenched his fists, struggling to keep his composure. His anger was bubbling up, threatening to overflow. "You're a monster," he spat. "I heard what you did—ordering your own men to die, leaving them to be torn apart by ghouls. You don't deserve to lead. You don't deserve to live."
Cordero's smile widened, a sinister glint in his eye. "And you think you're any better, Jack? Coming here, plotting to kill me, betraying your own people. You're just like me. Deep down, you know it."
Jack felt his control slipping. He gritted his teeth, the anger rising. "No," he growled. "I'm nothing like you."
Cordero's hand moved to the sword he had been examining. Slowly, almost lazily, he pulled it from the shelf, its blade catching the light from the chandelier. "Whoever hates me loves death," he said, his voice cold and mocking. "You won't stop, Jack. You'll never stop."
The words struck a nerve. Jack's eyes darted around the room, and he spotted a spare katana mounted on the wall.
In one swift motion, he lunged for it, his hand closing around the hilt. He pointed the blade at Cordero, his expression fierce. "I'll save the world," he said, his voice steady, resolute. "By taking you down myself."
Cordero chuckled, an almost genuine amusement in his eyes. He raised his sword, positioning himself with a practiced stance. "Come then, Jack," he taunted. "Let's see if you can."
For a moment, they stood there, the tension in the room so thick it was almost tangible. Then, as if on some unspoken cue, they both moved, their swords clashing with a resounding clang that echoed through the room.
Jack felt the impact jolt up his arm, but he held firm, pushing back against Cordero's weight. His eyes locked onto Cordero's, and in that instant, he knew this would be a fight to the death.
Cordero grinned, his expression a twisted mix of delight and madness. "You'll make sure I won't what, Jack?" he sneered, his voice low and dangerous. "Live? Lead? Win?"
Jack tightened his grip on the katana, his muscles tensing. "I'll make sure you don't get away with it," he vowed. "Not this time."
Cordero's grin widened, and he swung his sword again, faster this time, the blade singing through the air. "Then let's end this," he said.
The clash of swords filled the room with a deafening clang, metal scraping against metal as Jack fought with every ounce of strength he had.
He tried to focus, to remember the training Archer had drilled into him, but Cordero was fast—faster than anyone Jack had ever faced. Each swing from Cordero's blade came with a terrifying force, sending vibrations up Jack's arms every time he blocked or parried.
Jack grunted as he raised his sword with both hands to block another powerful strike from Cordero.
The impact sent him stumbling back, and he could feel the cold edge of Cordero's blade nicking his skin. He hissed in pain, blood trickling from a shallow cut, but he didn't dare lower his guard.
Cordero's eyes bore into Jack's, a sadistic gleam in them. "You have the same hatred in your eyes as my little brother," he sneered. His voice was low, taunting, almost amused. "That burning fury... It's exactly what I've been looking for."
The words struck a nerve. Jack's mind flashed to Dr. Wormsly, the man Cordero had manipulated and twisted into his schemes, and a surge of rage coursed through him. "I'm nothing like you," Jack growled through gritted teeth.
Fueled by his anger, Jack shoved Cordero off with a burst of strength. He quickly followed up with a swing of his own, aiming low. The blade sliced across Cordero's cheek, leaving a thin, crimson line.
Cordero staggered back, a hand flying to his face. For a moment, his calm, mocking demeanor cracked, replaced by a flash of fury.
"You'll pay for that," Cordero snarled, his voice dripping with venom. He wiped the blood from his cheek with a slow, deliberate motion, his eyes never leaving Jack's. Then his lips curled into a twisted grin. "But first, let's see how you handle this."
With a swift, unexpected move, Cordero raised his sword and swung it at the rope holding the grand chandelier above them. The thick, braided rope snapped with a sharp crack, and the chandelier came crashing down, shattering against the marble floor.
The impact sent shards of glass flying in all directions, and a sudden burst of flames erupted from the broken gas lamps that had been lighting it.
Jack threw up his arms to shield his face from the glass and heat. He could feel the warmth of the fire against his skin, the smoke already starting to thicken in the air.
He coughed, his eyes watering, and backed away from the flames, trying to find a clear space to breathe.
Cordero, meanwhile, stepped back into the growing shadows, the flickering fire casting his silhouette against the walls. He seemed almost to merge with the smoke, a dark, looming figure against the backdrop of flames.
His voice carried over the crackling fire, cold and taunting. "I'd rather burn this place to the ground than let you take me down," he declared, his tone filled with a twisted sort of glee.
The smoke was getting thicker, swirling around them in dark, choking clouds. Jack could feel his chest tightening, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps.
He wiped the sweat and soot from his brow, his eyes darting around for an exit, a way out. But all he could see was Cordero's silhouette, slowly advancing through the smoke and flames, his sword gleaming ominously in the firelight.
Jack's heart pounded in his chest. He tried to steady his breathing, tried to focus on the task at hand. But the fear was creeping in, gnawing at the edges of his resolve.
Cordero's words echoed in his mind, that taunting, mocking tone. The man was a monster, a force of destruction who would stop at nothing to see his enemies burn.
Jack tightened his grip on his katana, forcing himself to push the fear aside. He had to end this. He had to stop Cordero, once and for all. No matter the cost.
As Cordero continued to advance, his figure growing larger and more menacing with each step, Jack took a deep breath, summoning every ounce of courage he had left. "This ends now," he whispered to himself, his voice barely audible over the roaring flames.
The two men stood facing each other, swords raised, the fire raging around them. And then, with a shout, Jack lunged forward, ready to strike.