The Last Stand of Kael Draven

The world had already ended once.

Twenty years ago, the Collapse swept across continents like a wildfire. Nations crumbled beneath the weight of corruption, civil war, and famine. The remnants fractured into war zones ruled by corporations, militias, and mercenaries. Governments became myths. Peace became a joke.

And Kael Draven became a ghost.

Once the top operative in an elite unit known as Viper Squad, Kael was betrayed during Operation Sundown—the mission that was supposed to end the war. His squad was ambushed. Command went dark. The extraction never came. Kael was the only one who walked out of that jungle alive, dragging a shattered leg and vengeance in his heart.

Now, he lived in the ruins of what used to be eastern California. The people here called it “the Dead Zone.” But one settlement had defied the name—Hollow Creek, a fragile community that grew crops, educated children, and dreamed of rebuilding.

And now, the Black Sun militia wanted to wipe it off the map.

Kael stood at the edge of the ravine that circled Hollow Creek, the wind tugging at the edges of his coat. Smoke curled in the distance—Black Sun scouts had torched two outposts the night before. The militia was coming in force. He had seen the drones, the transport convoys, the heavy weapons.

No one in Hollow Creek could stop them.

Except him.

The council had begged him to run. But Kael had seen what happened when people didn’t fight back. His silence was his answer.

That night, he walked alone into the forest with a pack, a rifle, and a plan.

By day, Kael set traps. By night, he listened to enemy comms on a cracked radio unit patched together from scrap. He knew their numbers—over a hundred men, five armored transports, two autonomous drones. He mapped their supply lines, calculated fuel reserves, even learned the name of their commander: Captain Ryker Voss. A former private security contractor with a reputation for brutality and zero mercy.

Kael remembered Voss.

He was there at Sundown.

The betrayal ran deeper than Kael thought.

So this wasn’t just defense. It was justice.

Three days later, the ambush began.

It started with fire. Kael detonated buried fuel drums beneath the lead transport as it crossed the ravine bridge. The explosion tore metal like paper, sending soldiers screaming into the river. The moment the second convoy halted, a volley of arrows—yes, arrows—rained from the trees. Kael had trained the Hollow Creek hunters to aim for tires and optics, not kills. Disable. Confuse.

That’s when Kael struck.

He moved like a ghost between the trees, a silenced rifle picking off sentries, saboteurs, and radio men. Every shot counted. Every second mattered. His traps—tripwires, spike pits, EMP mines—turned the forest into a killing ground.

The militia never saw it coming.

By dawn, half their force was either dead, disoriented, or trapped.

Voss responded with brutality.

He ordered a full push toward the settlement, drones overhead, rockets ready. But Kael had anticipated it. He lured the drones into an abandoned power grid laced with magnetic mines, frying their sensors mid-air. One spiraled into a comm tower. The other went blind and crashed into the canyon wall.

Kael faced Voss directly just before sundown.

The final battle took place on the old highway that led to Hollow Creek, littered with smoking wrecks. Kael, wounded and limping, faced a squad of the last twenty mercenaries. Voss stood behind them in stolen tactical gear, sneering.

“You should have died at Sundown,” Voss growled, raising his rifle.

Kael didn’t answer. He just moved.

Bullets sang through the air. Kael rolled behind a collapsed barrier, returned fire, dropped three men in a heartbeat. He vaulted into close combat, blade flashing in his hand. Chaos erupted—grunts fell, shouting in confusion as Kael weaved between them like a ghost of war.

In minutes, it was over.

Kael stood over Voss, breathing hard. Blood ran down his side, soaking into the dirt.

Voss tried to crawl away.

Kael grabbed him by the collar.

“For Viper Squad,” he said, voice like stone, and pulled the trigger.

The battle was over.

The people of Hollow Creek emerged from bunkers and shelters to find the war ended by one man. A man scarred by loss, fueled by purpose, and hardened by truth.

They offered him a place on the council.

He declined.

Instead, Kael stood atop the same ridge days later, staring out at the horizon. Black Sun was finished—for now. But others would come.

Peace was fragile.

But Kael Draven would be ready.

He wasn’t fighting for governments anymore. Or revenge.

He was fighting for people.

And sometimes, one man was enough