Asura God of War: Awakening of the Ghost

CHAPTER 1: The Rise of the God of War

Eighteen months. For that long, Ares had sat in a wheelchair, despised as a useless cripple who only freeloaded off his wife, Clara Valerius.

Not a single person in Oakhaven City knew that the paralyzed man they spat on was the great Asura God of War. The Lord of the Shadow Legion, the supreme commander of a hundred thousand elite mercenary troops whose name made the kings of the Nine Provinces tremble in fear.

Eighteen months ago, on the battlefield of the Great Sand War, a traitor in a black suit injected the biological poison Viper-7 into his body. The poison locked his nervous system, leaving him completely paralyzed. If not for Clara bringing him home and caring for him tirelessly, Ares might have already rotted on the battlefield.

But to them, Ares was nothing more than a pile of trash—a crippled son-in-law who shamed the family.

"Still sitting there daydreaming like a statue, Cripple?"

It was Julian Valerius's voice. His wife's cousin. The man swirled the wine glass in his hand with a smirk that made Ares's hands itch to destroy him. "Has your brain rotted along with your legs?"

Keep talking, bastard, Ares thought, as cold as ice. If I could move a single finger, your neck would already be broken.

Ares closed his eyes, focusing all his concentration on his spine. Fighting the nerve blockade. Move. Damn it, move! However, his body still refused.

"Hey, I'm talking to you, Trash!" Julian approached, his cigar-scented breath hitting Ares's face. He did not know that the man in front of him was Asura—the God of War whose single command could level the city of Oakhaven to dust.

The rapid clicking of high heels was heard. Clara, Ares's wife, stood between them. Her face was tired, her shoulders bearing the burden of the company alone. Foolish woman, Ares thought. Why do you keep defending me?

"Don't bother him, Julian!" Clara snapped.

Julian laughed loudly. "He's a disgrace, Clara! Just throw him into a nursing home!"

Clara gripped the handles of Ares's wheelchair until her knuckles turned white. "Ares is my husband! Don't bully someone who can't fight back!"

Ares's blood boiled. That woman was the only person who had not abandoned him, and now she was being humiliated because of him. Enough. Ares slammed into the nerve blockade with his last remaining ounce of mental strength. Cold sweat poured down the General's temples.

"Oh, a late hero," Julian mocked. He looked at Ares with disgust, then—SPLASH!—he poured the red wine over the man's face.

The liquid dripped from Ares's hair, soaking his shirt collar. At that very moment, something at the base of his spine cracked. Click. The blockade was shattered. The sound of a military radio from the past echoed in his head: [Target neutralized. General, we await your orders!]

"My hand slipped," Julian said without any guilt. "But trash like this really matches the color of the carpet."

Around the hall, condescending whispers began to be heard. But Ares didn't care. The temperature around him suddenly dropped drastically.

Suddenly, Silas Valerius, the Patriarch, approached with his silver cane. He glared at Clara furiously. "Our family is humiliated by this disgrace! Julian, make him clean this floor with his own shirt!"

"Hear Grandpa's orders, Cripple? Clean it up, quick!" Julian gripped the handles of Ares's wheelchair, his arm muscles tensing, ready to slam the man onto the hard marble floor.

Clara panicked. She stepped forward and tried to swat Julian's hand away. "Don't touch him!"

"Get out of the way, crazy woman!"

Julian shoved Clara's chest roughly. Clara lost her balance, her body staggering backward and crashing into the buffet table. CRASH! Crystal glasses shattered to pieces near her body.

Seeing Clara fall, Ares's patience was completely exhausted.

The poison vanished. His memory returned intact. The battlefield, the smell of gunpowder, and the power that had once been lost now flowed back into his muscles. Julian prepared to push Ares's wheelchair toward the broken glass, but before the chair could tilt...

WHOOSH!

Ares moved. No longer a paralyzed man, but The Ghost. His combat instincts preceded his consciousness. With a speed that human eyes could not follow, he caught Julian's wrist mid-air like an iron vise.

The hand stopped completely. Julian gaped. His eyes widened, his face turning deathly pale.

"Julian," Ares whispered softly, but his tone was as cold as ice on a mountain peak. "Which hand did you use to push my wife?"

CRACK!

The sound of a bone cracking was heard clearly throughout the entire room. Julian screamed hysterically, falling to his knees in front of Ares. The whole room froze. The God of War had risen.

"Your dirty hands do not deserve to touch my wife," Ares hissed.

Silas Valerius slammed the table in fury. "How dare you, Cripple! Clara, starting tonight you are officially suspended! Get out of here before I have the security guards throw you out!"

Several burly security guards stepped forward, but one murderous glare from Ares brought their steps to a halt. An aura of death filled the room, choking the breath of anyone who dared to approach.

Ares looked at Silas with a cold smile. "Without my wife, this junk company of yours will be destroyed overnight. Let's go, Clara. This place is too dirty for us."

Ares no longer let Clara push him. With the remaining strength he had, Ares spun the wheels of his chair himself, leading his wife out of the Estate, leaving behind those who were still frozen in fear.

...

Inside the car, Clara's tears broke out. "Forgive me, Ares... I was stupid. I thought tonight would be different."

Ares was about to answer, but the remnants of the Viper-7 poison he had forced to shatter were now taking revenge. His nervous system experienced an overload. The man vomited a mouthful of black blood, making Clara scream in panic.

"A-Ares? You're bleeding! And... you spoke earlier?!"

Ares grabbed his wife's hand. His hand was trembling violently, cold sweat flooded his temples, and the pain from the poison made his vision blur. "Stop crying," Ares said, his voice hoarse but full of command. "From this second on, your tears are a luxury they do not deserve to receive."

"You're cured?" Clara whispered in disbelief.

"Not cured. I just woke up," Ares answered shortly. "Start the car. We are going to take back what is rightfully yours."

After those words were spoken, Ares's defenses collapsed. His vision turned black. He lost consciousness not because he was weak, but because he had just won a small war inside his own nervous system.

...

When he regained consciousness, Ares was already in a run-down apartment. It was midnight. He opened his eyes, recognizing the poison that had paralyzed him: Viper-7. A biological weapon designed to paralyze without killing. They intentionally wanted him to stay alive as a witness to his own downfall.

One week to neutralize the poison. Two weeks to summon the troops. One month to level Oakhaven.

Ares pressed a secret button on his watch, sending an EMP signal to a military satellite. Shortly after, Elias, the CEO of Starlight Global, received his location coordinates.

"Prepare the troops," Elias ordered his subordinates on the other end. "We'll buy this entire city and slaughter anyone who touches the General!"

Suddenly, Ares's instincts screamed.

BANG!!!

The front door of the apartment was smashed open.