Torrential rain poured down on a dilapidated, narrow street. A group of special forces soldiers in black combat uniforms lurked behind the curtain of rain, silently waiting for their prey to appear.
This was Mogadishu, the capital of Somalia.
Since the operation three years ago, this region had been brought within Hua Nation's sphere of influence.
As Hua Nation's power intervened in the regional situation, the armed groups and extremist forces entrenched in the northwest had withdrawn toward central Africa. With those vultures gone, this world-famous city of chaos had, for once, welcomed the dawn of order.
However, poverty, backwardness, and ignorance would always be the best breeding ground for violence and terror. Just as light and darkness existed in a balance of ebb and flow, violence and bloody conflict had never truly left this place. They had merely gone underground...
Like rainwater pouring down a slope into the sewers.
In the distance, a pair of headlights cut through the rain, tracing a long, narrow silhouette against the night.
As though fleeing from something, an old Ford slammed on its brakes and stopped by the roadside. The doors flew open, and two young Black men inside pulled their caps low, hurried out, and ran to the entrance of an old apartment building, pounding their fists against the door.
"Open up! Hurry!"
Before long, a small iron flap in the rusted metal door opened outward. After confirming the identities of the two men outside, the door opened fully and let them in.
The rain seemed to intensify all at once, its impact against the ground growing shriller, like the cries of an infant.
The sound of boots on concrete silently passed through the puddles in the street. Figures holding rifles level, silent and grim, emerged from the rain like blades, surrounding