“Where did you learn that transition?”
The old man froze. Every soldier, including Sergeant Vega, turned toward the doors.
Major General Adrian Knox stood in the doorway, flanked by Captain Robert Hayes and two senior members of the command staff. General Knox was a legend in his own right, having served nearly forty years. He had commanded infantry units in brutal conflicts, advised overseas operations, and carried a reputation for knowing the name of every soldier who had ever died under his command.
He was not looking at Cole on the mat. His eyes were fixed intently on the pale, jagged scar visible just beneath the old man’s collarbone, exposed slightly by his loose collar.
The stranger turned, slowly picking up the faded field jacket he had removed before the fight.
General Knox crossed the floor, his boots echoing.
“Sir,” Vega began nervously, snapping to attention. “I can explain what happened—”
Knox raised a single hand, silencing the sergeant without even glancing at him. The gym remained completely still. The general stopped a few feet from the elderly man. Knox's usual expression of hardened command authority had melted into genuine disbelief.
Then, the General spoke two words that no one else in the room understood.
“Night Watcher.”
The old man’s gray eyes narrowed slightly. “I have not heard that name in many years.”
Knox took another step forward, his voice tight with emotion. “I was told you died.”
“So were the men trying to kill me.”
The general looked again at the scar near the man’s chest. “March 3, 1984. Panjshir.”
The old man calmly pulled on his faded jacket. “You remember more than is healthy, Adrian.”
“I remember the man who carried me out of a burning compound,” Knox corrected, his voice carrying clearly across the silent gym.
Cole slowly pushed himself onto one knee, the stinging humiliation in his chest giving way to a profound sense of awe. Around him, the soldiers stared wide-eyed at the quiet visitor they had mistaken for a helpless civilian.
General Knox’s voice became softer, laced with deep reverence. “Colonel Elias Mercer.”
The old man gave the smallest of nods. “Retired.”
Captain Hayes looked between the General and the old man. “General, who is he?”
Knox did not answer immediately. His unwavering attention remained on Mercer. “What brought you here, Elias?”
“I was invited.”