The airport terminal buzzed with anticipation. Fighter jets carved patterns across the gray sky, their engines roaring in formation. Below, tens of thousands of special forces soldiers stood at attention, their rifles gleaming under the fluorescent lights. Among the crowd of waiting dignitaries, the CEO of one of the nation’s most powerful industrial groups wiped sweat from his brow despite the heavy air-conditioning. "Any sign of him yet?" "Nothing,"a man replied. "We've been standing here for four hours." "Four hours is nothing," someone hissed. "If we can earn the War God’s favor, our families will dominate this city for generations." Around them, hundreds of wealthy tycoons and politicians jostled for position, each hoping to catch the first glimpse of the legendary figure who had turned the tide of war single-handedly. Seventy-three classified operations across four continents. Zero failures. The only War God in the nation’s history. The crowd surged forward as military

The killing intent radiating from him made Marcus—a man who'd stared down warlords and terrorists without flinching—take an involuntary step back."Tell them," Alexander said coldly, "that I will attend. I wouldn't miss it for the world."Marcus saluted sharply. "Yes, General. The Western Command is on high alert. Give the word, and I will mobilize the entire Ghost Legion, level every Thompson estate, and erase their very bloodline from the map!”No, this isn't a war for the Legion, Marcus," Alexander's voice dropping to a deathly, calm whisper. "This is a debt. And a debt this deep can only be settled by hand."He looked toward the city lights, where the Thompson banquet was surely beginning."Stand down. Keep the perimeter secure," Alexander commanded, his gaze turning lethal. "I’m going to the Thompson banquet alone. I want to see the looks on their faces when the 'dead man' walks through their front door."He glanced down at the mangled, lifeless heap that was Derek’s body."Pack

Alexander walked toward the coffin with leisurely, almost casual steps. The crowd pressed backward, creating a wide circle around him. He raised his boot and kicked the lid.The coffin exploded open.The screaming started immediately.Women shrieked, champagne glasses shattered as they hit the floor. Men stumbled backward, some retching. Because inside the coffin, illuminated by the glittering chandelier light, lay Derek Morrison's phone—still ringing—clutched in the stiff, dead fingers of a corpse.It was Derek’s body, the man's face frozen in a rictus of terror, eyes wide and unseeing. His neck bent at an unnatural angle.Victoria's scream rose above all others. "MURDER! Oh God, it's MURDER!""Call the police!" someone shouted."He killed someone!""There's a dead body!"Victoria pointed at Alexander with a shaking hand, her voice climbing to a hysterical pitch. "You MURDERER! You brought a corpse to our banquet! You've killed someone and you'll—you'll be EXECUTED for this! Death pe

Robert's face transformed from confusion to pure elation in the span of a heartbeat. He ended the call and threw back his head, laughing with manic relief."You're FINISHED!" His voice echoed off the chandelier crystals. "General Hawthorne himself is sending troops! Military police! Armed soldiers! They'll be here in minutes!"Victoria stopped trembling, hope flickering in her eyes. "The military? Oh thank God, thank God..."Jason clutched his father's arm. "They'll arrest him, right? Court martial? Execution?""Better than that," Robert crowed, his confidence flooding back like a dam bursting. "General Hawthorne takes disruption of military functions VERY seriously. Alexander just assaulted forty men at a banquet meant to honor the War God himself!" He pointed at Alexander with a shaking finger. "You're going to be dragged out of here in chains and thrown in a hole so deep they'll forget you exist!"The guests stirred, relief washing through the crowd. The natural order was reasserti

General Bradley Hawthorne remained on one knee, his entire body trembling like a leaf in a storm. The legendary composure that had carried him through three wars, countless battles, and decades of military service—gone. Shattered. The man who'd stared down enemy generals without flinching couldn't meet Alexander Kane's eyes.His mouth opened, the title almost escaping—"War G—"Alexander's gaze shifted to him, cold as a glacier, and the General's words died instantly. Understanding flooded through him. Don't say it. He doesn't want it spoken."I..." The General's voice came out as a strangled whisper. "I apologize, sir. I deeply apologize. I had no knowledge of the situation. None whatsoever."Alexander remained standing, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. "No knowledge?""None!" The General's head bowed lower. "I was told there was a disturbance. That someone was disrupting the—the event. I came immediately to handle it, but I swear on my life, sir, I had no idea it was—" He cau