THE WAR GOD MADE OF STEEL

Where Is Rowan?

“They've been defeated!”

“Victory for Armogur!”

The roar of the surviving soldiers shook the battlefield.

“We finally won!”

“Esturis has surrendered!”

“Long live General Hawthorne!”

Cheers erupted across the ruined battlefield as the few remaining Armogurian troops raised their rifles into the air. Tanks rolled through the smoke while fighter jets thundered overhead, and tactical vehicles rumbled across the shattered ground, marking the end of the war.

After several years of bloodshed, Armogur had finally won.

Enemy strongholds had fallen, some of their generals were dead, and their government had been severely weakened.

At the center of the celebration stood General Hawthorne Storm.

The Legendary War God!

The man who had led the nation from the brink of defeat to absolute victory.

Yet despite the deafening cheers surrounding him, something felt wrong; he remained unmoved by the celebration.

His sharp eyes swept across the burning battlefield, searching for only one person.

Rowan Blackwell.

His trusted right-hand man was nowhere to be seen.

“General!”

An officer rushed toward him.

“The Esturis High Command has officially surrendered. Their few remaining forces have completely laid down their weapons.”

The surrounding officers erupted into applause.

“We did it!”

“This victory belongs to you, General Hawthorne!”

Hawthorne merely gave a faint smile and acknowledged them with a slight wave. Though victorious, his mind remained elsewhere, consumed by a single question—where is Rowan?

****

Esturis had plotted to invade the smaller nation of Armogur because of its rich oil and other mineral resources, but they had not anticipated its military strength. That strength existed because of none other than General Hawthorne Storm.

He had spent years training and building the army in discipline and unique combat skills beyond just ammunition and firepower.

He transformed them into a powerful military force over the years. Unlike before, enabling them to stand against the almighty and heavily armed nation of Esturis, which was capable of invading or conquering any neighboring nation.

This was Armogur's most decisive victory during Hawthorne's reign. He had forged the once-powerless nation into one of the most powerful military powers in the entire continent and beyond.

The remaining armies were still gathered around, along with a few surrounding officers, all hailing Hawthorne with excitement.

“General Hawthorne Storm, you remain the greatest!”

“We achieved this height because of no one other than you!”

They continued hailing him as they moved toward their military vehicles. Everywhere was covered in flames and burning debris, including the remains of the opposing nation’s forces.

Hawthorne, however, was still thinking about Rowan's whereabouts despite all the celebration. Standing in the same spot, he quietly scanned the battlefield for him as the remaining soldiers and officers made their way toward their military vehicles in excitement.

Something about Rowan's sudden disappearance continued to trouble him.

After a few minutes, unable to contain his confusion any longer, he finally shouted.

“Wait!”

The military men quickly stopped and turned toward him.

His eyes narrowed slightly as he scanned the battlefield.

“Where is Rowan?” he asked coldly. “He fought alongside us. Is he dead… or was he kidnapped by the surrendered Esturis military?”

He paused, his voice dropping lower.

“That doesn’t feel right.”

His expression hardened.

“My right-hand man shouldn't have vanished like that.”

Two officers stepped forward.

“General Hawthorne, truth be told, we don’t know his whereabouts. He vanished immediately after the battle. We searched the entire battlefield but couldn’t find him anywhere,” Colonel Franks Richmond said.

“General Hawthorne, he’s right. We thought he might have followed you, but when we glanced behind you, he wasn’t there either. We were carried away by the celebration of victory until you now asked about him,” Colonel Michael Bryan added.

The remaining armies stood silently nearby, listening.

Hawthorne said calmly.

“Alright. Let me call him first.”

As he reached into his pocket to bring out his military phone, something terrible and unexpected happened.

The Cerberus Tactical Missile had already been launched toward the remaining armies and officers without their notice. They had believed the battle was over, unaware that something far more dangerous was coming to take their lives.

It has been engineered by the Esturis military for surgical battlefield strikes, allowing it to strike both large-scale and small-scale targets with frightening precision based on its designated target coordinates.

This meant they were not only heavily armed but also dominant in military weapons technology.

Then—

BOOM!!!

The missile struck with devastating force, and the explosion engulfed the area in an instant, swallowing the remaining troops and officers.

Hawthorne, fortunately, was not too close to the blast. The missile had been precisely programmed to strike the densely clustered troops, while he remained just outside its designated target zone. It had been launched from somewhere along the border, where the invasion battle between the two nations had taken place, by a hidden Esturis reserve strike unit that had not surrendered.

Even from that distance, the searing heat and shockwave still washed over him as he stood frozen, watching the destruction, refusing to move or even react.

He wondered where the missile had come from. Then he concluded it must be Esturis—no other nation made sense. They were already at war, and this must have been a final retaliatory strike after their defeat.

He carefully scanned the stormy sky, watching for any further missile activity—then stood motionless, his eyes fixed on the burned remains of the fallen soldiers before him.

His mind replayed the strike over and over. Something about it didn't sit right.

He wondered again if they had simply miscalculated because of the distance at which he was standing... or if the attack had been carried out exactly as intended for a purpose he couldn't yet figure out.

It was far too suspicious.

His brows furrowed as he whispered to himself in confusion.

“How is this possible...”

“...to wipe out the remaining soldiers... yet leave their commander alive?”

“Something must be wrong.”

No matter how hard he thought, he couldn't find a reasonable explanation for what had just happened before him.

Eventually, he forced himself to push the questions aside.

Right now... His fallen soldiers deserved his grief more than his suspicions.

He slowly knelt down and touched the burned remains of the fallen soldiers and scattered fragments.

Then—sadly shook his head in deep pain and loss, missing the military men who had fought beside him, then quietly said.

“Rest in peace, warriors.”

“You all truly fought for this nation, including those who now lie fallen across this battlefield.”

“You will all remain in my heart for as long as I live.”

He slowly rose to his feet, his gaze still fixed on the burned remains of the fallen soldiers.

Then Rowan crossed his mind once again.

“Why haven’t I seen him? Where could he be? Let me call him as I planned before this interruption.”

Immediately, he pulled out his military phone and dialed Rowan’s number.

Before the call could connect, he heard footsteps behind him.

Slow and deliberate.

He turned and saw them.

It was Rowan—alongside the newly deployed Esturis forces, joined by the few surviving soldiers and the surrendered High Command, all staring at him with mocking smiles and cold anger.

Hawthorne froze in place.

His expression darkened as disbelief washed over his face. Slowly, he shook his head, unable to accept what he was seeing.

“Unbelievable.”

Then he spoke quietly, almost in a whisper.

“Rowan… what the hell are you doing with them?”