Ultimate Vengeance of Ethan

The morning after the raid was filled with uncertainty. As the dust settled, Ethan's victory felt both hollow and fleeting. The guild operatives were defeated, but the true battle—the final confrontation with the Black Mask—loomed ahead. Despite his success in capturing key figures, a gnawing suspicion in the back of Ethan's mind told him that their attack had been too easy. The guild was too powerful, too well-connected, to fall so quickly.

Ethan gathered his closest allies in the war room to discuss their next steps. The night's success was only the beginning, but what followed would be far more dangerous.

"We've dealt a blow to the guild's infrastructure," Lord Matthias began, his voice steady but tinged with concern. "But we've only struck a small part of the organization. The Black Mask's true power lies in his ability to manipulate from the shadows. We can't rely on these small victories. We need to find him."

Lady Seren, who had been silent until now, spoke with her characteristic sharpness. "The Black Mask isn't someone who will be easily found. He's been using the kingdom's politics and the guild's vast network to stay hidden for years. If he wanted us to find him, he would have left us a trail long ago. But he won't make it that easy."

Ethan's mind raced. He had spent years trying to uncover the truth, piecing together fragments of information, but it always felt like he was chasing shadows. The Black Mask had always been one step ahead. How could he possibly close the gap now?

"I know," Ethan murmured. "But I can't afford to wait any longer. We need to expose him. This kingdom is dying, and the longer we let him control the strings, the harder it will be to free it. We've already lost too much."

His voice hardened, and a fire sparked in his eyes. His thoughts turned to the people who had suffered because of the Black Mask's machinations—his family, the kingdom, and all those who had been crushed under the guild's weight. His determination was unshakable. He would not stop until the Black Mask was exposed for all to see.

Kael, his ever-loyal friend, stepped forward. "Ethan, I've been thinking. There's one place the Black Mask might be hiding—an old fortress, deep in the mountains. It's been abandoned for years, but I've heard rumors. Some say it's where the Black Mask keeps his most prized secrets."

Ethan's heart skipped a beat. The fortress. Of course. He had heard the stories, too. It had been a place of legend, a rumored hideout of the kingdom's most dangerous criminals and traitors. If the Black Mask had been keeping secrets there, it was the perfect place to search.

"We're going there," Ethan declared, his voice resolute. "Gather the men. We leave at dawn."

The journey to the mountains was treacherous. The terrain was rugged, and the weather cold and unforgiving. Yet, the determination in Ethan and his allies pushed them forward. Day after day, they climbed higher into the mountains, the air growing thinner and colder with each passing hour.

The closer they got, the more the weight of their mission pressed on them. Ethan knew they were walking into the heart of the enemy's lair, but he couldn't afford to turn back now. He had to find the Black Mask. He had to stop him.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of climbing, they reached the fortress. It stood there, looming and silent, surrounded by cliffs and an eerie fog. The once-mighty stronghold now seemed like a relic of a forgotten time, its walls crumbling and its gates rusted shut. But there was an aura of power still emanating from within, as if the fortress held more than just the weight of its history.

Ethan stood at the entrance, his breath visible in the cold air. The fortress seemed abandoned, but he knew better than to trust appearances. The Black Mask had hidden his secrets here for a reason. This place was no ordinary ruin—it was a fortress built for a purpose.

"Stay alert," Ethan said to his companions, his voice low and tense. "We don't know what's waiting for us inside."

With that, they entered the fortress, the sound of their footsteps echoing in the silence. The walls were lined with old tapestries, their once-vibrant colors now faded and worn. The air smelled stale, and the atmosphere was thick with the weight of forgotten memories.

As they ventured deeper into the fortress, Ethan's mind raced with possibilities. What secrets lay hidden here? What had the Black Mask been protecting?

Eventually, they came upon a large chamber—its doors were thick and reinforced, clearly designed to keep out unwanted visitors. Ethan's heart raced as he approached the door, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

"On three," he whispered.

"One… two… three!"

They pushed the door open, revealing a grand hall beyond. But it wasn't the room they were expecting. Instead of an empty chamber, they found themselves face-to-face with a group of armed men—guards loyal to the Black Mask. The moment they saw Ethan and his party, the guards drew their weapons, ready to strike.

Ethan's heart pounded as he drew his own sword. This was it. The Black Mask's final defense. The battle for the kingdom's future had come to a head.

With a fierce battle cry, Ethan charged, his sword clashing against that of the nearest guard. The sound of metal meeting metal rang through the chamber as Ethan and his companions fought their way forward. But despite their skill and determination, the guards were relentless.

In the midst of the chaos, Ethan's eyes scanned the room, searching for any clue that could lead him to the Black Mask. His mind raced—where was he? What was he hiding?

Then, in the farthest corner of the chamber, Ethan saw something that made his blood run cold. A figure, cloaked in black, stood before a massive stone altar. The Black Mask.

With a growl, Ethan pushed forward, fighting his way through the guards. His heart thudded in his chest as he drew closer to the figure. This was it. The moment he had been waiting for.

But as he approached, the Black Mask turned, revealing his face. The final twist—Ethan's breath caught in his throat. The man standing before him was no stranger.

It was his father.