Boom!!!

  As loud explosions shook the surrounding buildings in the city. Figures could be seen dashing out of the explosion chasing after someone.

  A man dressed in bck clothing rushed forward trying to escape. He wore a bck mask covering his face, only his cold, lifeless eyes could be seen.

  Despite the dire situation he found himself in, there was no hint of panic or fear in his eyes.

  Coming out from the explosion he leaped on top of a nearby moving dump truck while his pursuers began drawing their guns and opening fire on him.

  "Shoot him!! We can't let him escape!" One of the pursuers shouted.

  Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

  They began opening fire. Seeing this, Non jumped off the truck and nded on the roof of a nearby moving car before quickly jumping off to another truck hauling a rge trailer behind and maneuvered his way onto the side of the trailer to find cover from the hail of bullets unleashed by his pursuers.

  After the distance between him and his pursuers had widened enough, he jumped off the truck at a traffic stop and ran into an empty alley, changed his clothes, and came back out to catch a taxi back home.

  An hour ter he arrived at his hideout, it looked like an abandoned building from the outside, but it was clean and modest inside. As he walked in, computers, guns, and many other types of high-tech equipment and gear could be seen in the room.

  He threw himself in a reclining chair and released a deep sigh, showing how tired he was.

  In front of him was a wall filled with many pictures of people. Most of which were marked with a red "X" on them.

  As his eyes scanned through the pictures, he began reading the words written beneath each picture.

  "Tess Wilder, raped and killed five women. Method of execution: castrated and burned to death."

  "Theo Voss, involved in kidnapping and sex trafficking. Method of execution: slit throat."

  "Nico Hawke, killed and ate six people. Method of execution: Locked in a cage with a tiger."

  "Maeve Carter, extorted female idols in his company and forced them into sex. Method of execution: burned to death."

  "Luca Pierce, serial killer: Method of execution: stabbed to death."

  "Sage Rivers, leader of a human trafficking organisation and a drug lord, Method of execution: drowned to death."

  ...

  ...

  ...

  Non continued reading the description on the pictures. As an assassin, these were all the people he had killed throughout his career. People he considered scum of the world and shouldn't exist.

  Scrolling down, his eyes nded on the picture at the very end.

  "Mathew Rivers, governor of Country J, facilitates human trafficking and has gang ties. Method of execution: explosion."

  This was the man he had killed today, his st target since he didn't have much time left. Shifting his gaze from the wall, his eyes nded on a piece of paper on the desk next to him.

  Picking it up, it could be seen that it was a medical report. In the middle of the medical report were a few words written in bold caps clearly standing out.

  The words being " Stage 4 cancer, the patient has roughly two months left to live." He had gotten this report exactly two months ago.

  Looking at this report, Non's eyes seemed even more rexed.

  "Looks like it's time for me to go to hell." He said with a light ugh; his body was a mess.

  Although he looked to be in good condition on the outside, this st mission had taken everything out of him.

  He was barely able to escape, and he felt his body would give out at any moment during the pursuit.

  Not to mention, he was already in his te 40s at this time. Even though he looked like he was in his early 30s.

  His body also betrayed his true age since he could still move like a young man despite being old.

  If it weren't for the cancer, he would still be in good condition to continue his missions.

  Given all these variables, he felt that maybe this was destiny. Maybe the world was trying to get rid of him as well. Although he considered the people he killed scum, he didn't think of himself as a saint.

  While pondering about how he lived his life, he suddenly felt a sharp pain in his chest.

  But he simply id back on his reclining chair, silent as ever throughout the pain.

  A few moments ter, the pain disappeared, and he suddenly felt sleepy. His body felt a warmth he had never felt before, as if telling him to just go sleep.

  Lying on his reclining chair, his eyes finally closed shut and he stopped breathing.

  Just like that, the world's greatest assassin had died. Quietly and peaceful in his hideout, with no one to grief or mourn over his death, it was a clean departure with no strings attached to this world. The only thing that would remain of him in this world would be his nickname, "The Executioner."