THE WAR GOD MADE OF STEEL

The Orphan Of Hallow Forest

Fifteen Years Ago...

Heavy rain poured relentlessly across the Rainforest of Hallow.

Thunder roared across the sky while powerful winds swept through the endless row of intimidating trees.

Hawthorne was returning from a stressful military assignment as a newly enlisted soldier. He drove along the narrow forest road in his Chrysler Pacifica, listening to his usual R&B music.

Then something terrible happened.

In the distance, he saw a Hilux violently pursuing a Ford Explorer through the midnight storm.

Suddenly, a gunshot echoed through the darkness.

BANG!

The rear tire of the Ford exploded.

Another shot followed.

BANG!

Hawthorne's attention sharpened instantly.

Through the rain, he saw a woman clutching a little poor boy as she fled into the forest.

Then another gunshot rang out.

BANG!

A group of masked men wearing trench coats emerged from the Hilux and rushed after them.

Hawthorne was still too far away to fully understand what was happening.

His headlights illuminated the road ahead, but within seconds, the men had already disappeared into the forest beneath the raging storm.

He immediately pressed harder on the accelerator.

“They're going after that woman and the little poor boy,” he thought.

“Who knows what happened to trigger such a manhunt? But that doesn't matter. I have to save them. What's the point of being a soldier if I ignore something like this? Even if I weren't in the military, I couldn't stand by and watch it happen.”

Moments later, he arrived beside the damaged Ford Explorer and the abandoned Hilux.

The masked men had left both vehicles behind in their desperation to catch their targets.

Hawthorne stepped out and immediately spotted a man lying motionless beside the Ford.

A pool of blood spread across the wet road beneath him.

The man's lifeless eyes stared into the storm.

Hawthorne whispered,

“Oh my God... what's going on?”

Without hesitation, he grabbed his advanced rifle and flashlight.

Leaving the headlights of his Chrysler Pacifica on, he charged into the forest.

“I'll personally take those men down. I swear it.”

Rain lashed against him as he sprinted through the darkness.

Branches and roots blocked his path, but years of combat training allowed him to dodge every obstacle effortlessly.

Then two gunshots echoed through the forest.

BANG! BANG!

Hawthorne increased his speed.

His determination pushed him forward with incredible momentum, almost defying the laws of physics and gravity through sheer willpower.

Those men looked like professional assassins.

He had recognized it the moment he saw them.

A few minutes later, Hawthorne outmaneuvered them completely.

Using a shortcut through the forest, he intercepted their path from the side.

The little poor boy had already run past moments earlier.

The masked men were caught completely off guard.

Hawthorne stepped in front of them.

“Little boy, stop wherever you are! I'm coming to save you!”

His voice echoed.

The masked men exchanged glances.

Their leader frowned.

“Who the hell are you?”

What happened next was unbelievable.

The masked men never got an answer.

Hawthorne moved like a storm unleashed.

Within minutes, all seven intimidating-looking men lay lifeless on the rain-soaked forest floor, overwhelmed by his exceptional combat skills and deadly precision. Blood mixed with the falling rain, forming crimson pools across the ground as thunder roared overhead.

He quickly turned and followed the path taken by the little boy.

Using his flashlight, he searched through the darkness.

Eventually, he found him.

The little poor boy was hiding behind a gigantic tree. His body trembled uncontrollably, his teeth chattered from the freezing rain and fear, and he spoke in a trembling voice.

“Are... are you the one who told me to stop?”

“Are you one of them?”

“Please don't kill me.”

The frightened child attempted to run.

Hawthorne reacted instantly.

He rushed forward, his voice filled with urgency.

“STOP.”

He smiled gently and continued.

“I'm the one who told you to stop, I'm here to save you, and as you can see, I've already killed all of them.”

He pointed toward the direction where the masked men lay dead.

The little poor boy slowly calmed down.

Hawthorne stepped closer and placed both hands firmly on his shoulders.

Then he asked softly,

“Where's your mother?”

The little poor boy lowered his head.

“She was shot by the men a few minutes ago.”

Hawthorne looked around.

“Where is she?”

“Take me there.”

The little poor boy nodded.

Together, they walked through the rain.

Minutes later, the poor boy pointed ahead. A woman lay lifeless on the ground under a pool of blood.

The little boy said, his voice trembling.

“Here's my lovely mom.”

Hawthorne slowly shook his head.

The little poor boy immediately broke down in tears.

“Cry no more,” Hawthorne said calmly.

“I'll take care of you.”

After a moment, he asked.

“Was your father the driver of the Ford Explorer?”

Little Rowan nodded.

“Did you see him?” Hawthorne asked.

Rowan’s voice trembled weakly. “We escaped before him.”

Hawthorne gently tapped his shoulder.

“I saw him lying in a pool of blood, but don't cry anymore. I'll take care of you.”

Little Rowan could no longer hold back his emotions. He burst into tears after realizing he had lost both parents.

The two of them sat beneath the roots of a massive tree.

After a few moments, Hawthorne slowly asked.

“What's your name?”

The little poor boy answered, still weeping uncontrollably.

“My name is Rowan Blackwell.”

Hawthorne nodded slowly.

“Why were those men chasing you and your parents?”

Little Rowan wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

“It was because of a business dispute between my parents and one of the wealthy families, though I don't know all the details because I was usually at school.”

He coughed and continued.

“My parents refused their demands, so they sent assassins to kill us. They finally succeeded...”

His fists tightened.

Hawthorne observed him carefully.

His eyes gradually hardened with deep pity and fierce determination as he clenched his fists and said, “Enough, kid. I promise you, they’ll surely pay for what they’ve done.”

He firmly tapped both of his shoulders twice, then stood up and said calmly.

“Follow me.”

Little Rowan slowly rose to his feet and followed him.

From that day forward, Hawthorne took care of him, investigated his parents' multimillion-dollar business and those responsible for their deaths, defeated them, and recovered the stolen company for him. He enrolled him in military school, trained him relentlessly, and transformed the weak, frightened little poor boy through discipline and rigorous combat training.

Year after year, Rowan grew stronger. The frightened child eventually became a formidable warrior, and in time, he made him his most trusted right-hand man.

Years later, Rowan sold the same company for billions in his rush and hunger for quick money. Despite everything Hawthorne was already doing for him financially, Rowan was never satisfied, always craving even more wealth, and eventually squandered the fortune because of his desire for extravagant lifestyle. But Hawthorne never cared about the waste because he truly loved Rowan like his own biological son.

Suddenly, Hawthorne's thoughts returned to the present.

The fighter jet had already entered Esturis airspace.

And now...

He was about to meet the almighty Master Draxson.