Return of the God of war: Chaos awaits

CHAPTER 1 

The iron bars creaked open, the sound chased by the violent slam of the aluminum door revealing a large shadow spread across the floor.

At the threshold stood a six foot five inches man all polished in his camouflage uniform, his gold identification badge glowing faintly revealing his name, Eryx Caldrin. His fingers gripped tightly over a whip.

At his sides stood two military guards, their eyes gleaming veilishly.

Eryx walked in, taking slow deliberate steps with a devilish grin curved on his lips.

Inside the cell sat Draven Khaelis on the bare cement floor with his ankles clammed to a huge chain.

On reaching Draven, Eryx stood towering over him. “You think you can play smart, huh?” He said, striking Draven across his face, leaving his print on his cheek.

Draven lifted his head slowly meeting those of Eryx but didn't say a word.

Eryx waves his hand and the two guards walked in, and pinned Draven's hands to his back.

“Let's see how much longer you'd keep shut.” Eryx sneered.

He stretched forth his left hand, his digital wrist watch screen flicked on. He tapped the screen once and the chain clamped to Draven's feet loosened, returning back to the wall beside him.

Without a fuss, the guards rose Draven to his feet.

“Move it!!” The guards thundered pushing Draven toward.

Draven walked forward with the guards direction, pushing him like a pile of dirt ready to be disposed of with Eryx walking behind them.

On getting to the courtyard, the guards pushed Draven to his knees, slamming hard against the concrete floor.

Before Draven stood an assembly of soldiers, their eyes fixed on him mockingly.

“A perfect entertainment after a day long of training.” One of the soldiers said.

A massive outburst of laughter followed, like he had cracked some joke.

Eryx stood, towering over Draven like a king.

He raises his hand high to a height of Eight foot four inches with the whip held tightly in his hand. Without a warning or fuss, he drops his hand swiftly, slashing the whip on Draven's bare skin. 

The whip dug deep into his skin, ripping open his flesh from the impact.

“He must probably be wishing for death, but death has certainly denied him that favour too.” 

Eryx didn't stop there, he rained down more strokes, with each peeling its print into Draven's flesh.

“I have a feeling this time would be of better entertainment than the last.” One of the soldiers sneered, with the others laughing like trained hyenas.

Despite the deep strokes, and his bleeding flesh, Draven didn't say a word. He maintained his poise with his knees to the ground.

“What a fool, whether he speaks or not, information would still be gotten from him.”

Eryx paused, a devilish grin spread across his face.

He snapped his fingers swiftly, the sound echoing faintly across the yard.

Instantly, a male military guard stepped forward from the assembly, handing over an iPad to Eryx.

“You won't speak right?” Eryx said, his eyes gleaming as he taps the iPad screen.

He turned the screen to Draven as a video played on the screen.

As soon as Draven's eyes hit the screen, his eyes blazed red, his veins rose almost ripping out from his skin.

Eryx laughed minically, with the other soldiers, their voices echoed through the courtyard.

“Ayyy, he's upset. His veins are rising.” One of the soldiers laughed, clutching his stomach.

“Don't speak and worse than this will be done to your precious daughter….oh my bad…your runway bi…”

GRAM!!!

That was the only sound heard, and Eryx appeared in Draven's grip, his feet swaying in the air.

“What!!!” The soldiers were stunned, their jaws dropping.

“How's that possible?” 

Eryx struggled to loosen Draven's grip as his windpipe was already pressed shut by Draven's hand.

Draven's eyes blazed with fire, so bright Eryx shut his eyes.

The video that played wasn't just any video, it was a sex tape of Draven's wife, Anna, being violated by his best friend, Veyron.

Veyron and Draven were more than best friends–they were like brothers. Draven took Veyron like his blood, being the only child of his parents, Draven saw Veyron as a brother he never had.

They shared drinks and business ideas together so much, the entire city knew them as business partners. Now that same man, betrayed him. Not once, but twice.

Veyron's first betrayal was fogivable, but this....this wasn't.

Rage consumed Draven, his grip tightened with each pulse, crushing Eryx’s windpipe and throat. Eryx’s face burnt red, his eyes growing blood shot.

“Go prepare Veyron’s place in hell.” Draven thundered, his voice as a raging sea..

Crack!!!

All the bulbs around the courtyard exploded from the bolt of his voice.

Without a fuss, he flung Eryx like a piece of paper across the yard to the interior pillar before him.

BOOM!!!!

The pillar came crumbling as Eryx collided into it.

The soldiers scrambled backwards in fear and sheer confusion.

“How's that possible?”

“Who's he?”

“What is he?”

“Eryx? Like a sheet…”

They couldn't believe their eyes.

Eryx wasn't a mere soldier, he was the most formidable soldier in the region.

Due to his strength and stamina, he was often called “A killing machine.” No one could match his strength, but now that same man was flung across the yard like a sheet of paper…. like he was nothing.

And by whom?

Draven Khaelis, a mere soldier, their very own entertainment prisoner.

Eryx lay still on the floor, his head covered in his blood. 

“Commander Eryx?” One of the soldiers called out, his voice shaking with disbelief.

Eryx didn't respond, he remained still, his body unmoving with no life left in him. His silence provoked rage within the soldiers. 

“You're a dead man.” One of the soldiers thundered.

With that, the soldiers lunged forward towards Draven, rolling up their sleeves, clenching their fists.

They circled him, each moving faster than the other.

Draven still blazing, he stood unbothered by their presence. He waves his hand slightly, an invisible force threw them in the air, slamming them hard to pillars and bars around them.

In their numbers, they didn't stand a chance.

They groaned heavily from the impact. Blood smearing endlessly from their nose.

“You bastard!!!” One of the soldiers yelled, struggling to take a stand, he grabbed a metal rod beside him, his grip tightened around it.

He ran swiftly to Draven, his hand raised high in the air ready to smash Draven's head.

But as soon as he raised the rod, Draven caught him by the neck swiftly, so fast he didn't it coming.

“You called me a dead man.” Draven said, his grip tightened, crushing the soldier’s vertebra prominens.

“Ahhhh!!” The soldier cried, pain swirled within him.

“Please.” He began to plead. “Please…don't kill me.”

But his plea was like music to Draven's ears.

“Just as you should.” Draven said, his blazing eyes piercing deep into those of the soldier.

“Now look who's the dead man.” Draven snapped, tightening his grip so hard, the soldier's eyes popped out, his head red from suffocation. 

Thud!!!

Draven let go of the soldier, his body fell loudly to the ground.

With another casual wave of his hand, a blue surge tore through the building. Bulbs popped, statuses cracked, framed portraits crashed to the floor and then the pillars gave way as the earth beneath them crumbled apart.

Some soldiers fell into space in between the earth, while others were crushed into paste to the floor as walls and boulders fell violently on them.

Despite the destruction, Draven stood untouched by any of the crumbling materials.

He watched them being crushed into nothing.

No block was left standing, everything crumbling to Draven's feet.

“Meaningless lives. ” He thundered.

The once towering Northgate military hive was now flattened before Draven.

He stepped out of the mess, his feet soaring above it.

Out of nowhere, a helicopter appeared as if from thin air, its spinning blades thrashing the treetops, sending debris flying in every direction

It lowered to Draven, dropping its ladder.

Draven hangs on the ladder and the ladder pulls in, taking him to the helicopter.

“Sir!!” Ten soldiers, battle-ready and tense, snapped to attention as Draven strode toward the helicopter, each step heavy with authority. The wind from the spinning rotors whipped around them, rattling their armor and snapping their eyes toward him.

Draven didn’t flinch. His gaze burned like molten steel. “Time to give Veyron a taste of his own medicine,” he said, voice low and deadly, the words cutting through the roar of the blades