The Hunt No Mercy Left

In the underworld, if you don't crush the windpipe, the target breathes. If they breathe, they hunt."
Vance was the tip of the spear for "The Hounds," a legendary, ghost-tier black-ops squad that handled the syndicate's dirtiest clean-up operations. They didn't exist on paper, and they didn't leave witnesses. But in a world built on blood money, loyalty has a hard price tag. Betrayed by their own high-ranking handler during a setup at a rain-slicked shipyard, the entire squad was systematically executed.
Left for dead in a locked shipping container with broken ribs and a bleeding lung, Vance didn't die. He adapted.
Pulling a dark-grey, faceless ballistic cowl over his head, he steps back out into the neon-lit, concrete underbelly of the city with a single, unyielding objective: absolute extermination of the corporate syndicate.
There are no flashy superhuman powers here. No magical systems. No soft subplots, no allies, and absolutely no romance. This is a story of pure, mathematical street brutality. Using hyper-realistic close-quarters combat (CQC), improvised urban tools, tactical weapon breakdowns, and cold survival geometry, Vance begins  ascent through fortified high-rises, underground gambling dens, and industrial steel mills.
They wanted him buried. Instead, they unleashed a bloodhound who knows only one rule: Show mercy for none