Loser Man Returns As God Of War

Chapter 8

Trevor felt his heart pounding in his chest. The humiliation of being smacked around by those thugs still burned inside him, and now was his best chance to redeem himself. With shaky fingers, he pulled out his phone and quickly dialled his father. The moment the call connected, he launched into a rushed explanation of everything that had happened.

“Dad, you won’t believe what just happened! I was at the Thornton family’s house, and these thugs from the Brown Gang barged in demanding money! They even tried to take Beverly! But then I was able to—”

Trevor’s father, Richard Johnson, cut him off with a sharp growl. “Shut up, Trevor! Do you have any idea what you’ve gotten yourself into?!”

Trevor flinched at the sheer fury in his father’s voice. “W-What? Dad, I was trying to help!”

“Help?! You absolute idiot!” Richard’s voice was shaking with anger. “Do you even know who you were dealing with?! Those weren’t just regular Brown Gang members—those were Iron Hand’s men!”

Trevor swallowed hard. He had heard of Iron Hand before—a ruthless lieutenant under Wilson Brown, known for his brutal ways. “Iron Hand?” he echoed weakly.

Richard let out a frustrated sigh. “Yes, and things are worse than you think. Iron Hand has been rebelling against Wilson. He’s already joined forces with Mad Tiger.”

Trevor’s breath hitched. Mad Tiger. That name alone was enough to send shivers down his spine.

“Mad Tiger?” Trevor whispered. “The one even… even Marina couldn’t defeat?”

“That’s right,” Richard confirmed darkly. “And if Mad Tiger has taken an interest in Beverly, then there’s no saving her. No one dares cross him.”

Trevor’s legs trembled so badly that he had to grip the table to keep from collapsing. 

He was doomed. 

They were all doomed.

But he couldn’t let anyone see his fear. Gritting his teeth, he forced his voice to stay steady. “I… I have to take care of something,” he said hurriedly into the phone before hanging up.

Margaret, who had been eavesdropping, immediately stepped forward, eyes filled with concern. “Trevor, what happened? Where are you going?”

Trevor forced a smile, trying to keep up appearances. “Don’t worry,” he said, puffing out his chest. “I’m going to deal with the danger to Beverly.”

Margaret’s lips curled into a smirk, and she let out a mocking laugh. “Hah! See? That’s why Trevor is the better choice! Unlike that useless Davion!”

Everyone turned to look at Davion—except he was nowhere to be seen.

Margaret’s smirk instantly turned into a scowl. “Where is he?” she snapped, her voice laced with irritation.

Beverly frowned, scanning the room. “He… he left?” she asked, a hint of disappointment in her voice.

Trevor scoffed, feeling a little less pathetic now that Davion had seemingly run away. “Tch. Typical. He must’ve realized how bad things are and ran off like a coward.”

Margaret nodded in agreement. “Spineless, such a spineless frog. I knew he wasn’t worth anything.”

Only Wesley remained quiet. His brows furrowed as he stared at the door. “No… I don’t think Davion would run away like that,” he muttered.

Margaret smacked her lips together and turned to face Wesley, “That was the bastard for her daughter; he ran away like a dog.”

Wesley bowed his head, and he felt his cheeks flush, “no, I know he won't do that; it's not like him.”

But no one paid him any attention.

What the others didn’t know was that Davion had left while Trevor was still making his phone call. He had sharp hearing—sharper than most people realized. He had overheard everything Trevor’s father had said, and now he needed to act fast.

As soon as he stepped outside, he pulled out his phone and dialled Wilson Brown’s number.

The line rang twice before Wilson picked up. “What can I do for you, Davion?” Wilson’s voice was gruff, impatient.

Davion didn’t waste time. “I just ran into some of your men,” he said. “Except they weren’t exactly following your orders.”

There was a long silence before Wilson let out a sharp breath. “Iron Hand.”

Davion’s expression didn’t change. “So it’s true. He’s really rebelling against you.”

“That bastard…” Wilson growled. “I should’ve seen this coming.”

“It’s worse than that,” Davion continued. “Iron Hand isn’t alone. He’s already working with Mad Tiger.”

The phone line went dead silent. Then, Wilson cursed violently.

“Mad Tiger?! That lunatic?! You’re telling me Iron Hand actually joined forces with him?!”

“That’s right,” Davion said. “And it seems Mad Tiger has set his sights on Beverly.”

Wilson let out a string of curses. “Damn it! If Mad Tiger wants something, no one can stop him! Not even me!”

Davion’s voice remained calm. “Then you don’t have to. I’ll handle Mad Tiger. You just deal with Iron Hand.”

Wilson’s laughter burst through the phone, filled with disbelief. “You?! Take on Mad Tiger? Davion, do you even know what you’re saying? Even Irene, the so-called ‘Warrior Goddess,’ couldn’t beat him.”

“I’m not Irene.”

Wilson paused. There was something in Davion’s tone—something steady and it was something unshakable.

“…You’re serious,” Wilson finally said.

“Give me Mad Tiger’s location immediately,” Davion ordered. “I’ll deal with him in thirty minutes.”

Wilson let out a slow whistle. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that. Fine. I’ll send you the location now. But if you end up dead, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Davion hung up. His phone buzzed a second later with a message—an address on the outskirts of the city.

He cracked his knuckles, exhaling slowly.

“Mad Tiger, huh?” he muttered to himself, eyes dark with determination.

Looks like it was time to hunt.