Rise of the Super War God

Chapter 10: The War God’s Awakening

The night wind crept through the valley like the last gasp of a forgotten god. Cliffs that had once loomed proudly now lay shattered, jagged shards stabbing at the moonlit sky. The ground gleamed slick with blood, silvered beneath the twin moons, and the air was thick with the metallic tang of iron. Somewhere in the distance, faint screams hissed, swallowed instantly by darkness.

Amid the ruins, Kael Ardyn stood alone.

Blood coated his armor and skin—half his own, half from creatures that defied nature itself. His gray eyes glimmered faintly in the cold moonlight, sharp, unyielding. Six monstrous figures prowled around him, circling like predators savoring the hunt. Bloodfury Predators. Hulking nightmares armored in black chitin, limbs curved like jagged blades, dripping green venom. Every exhale fouled the air with decay.

Kael swayed slightly; every muscle trembled, yet he did not fall. His weapon—a jagged fang ripped from a long-dead beast—weighed heavily in his hands. Grace had left his movements. What remained was survival, raw and unfiltered, carved from instinct and sheer will. Pain clawed at every breath, but deep inside, something primordial stirred—ancient, untamed, awakening.

One predator lunged.

Its scythe-like limbs whistled through the air. Kael twisted aside just in time. The wind of its strike grazed his ribs. Before it could recover, he slammed the fang upward. Flesh and bone tore with a sound like silk ripping. Green ichor splattered across his face. The beast collapsed, its death cry echoing across the valley.

The others roared.

The ground trembled under their weight. Stones cracked. Five more leapt at him from every angle. One swung a massive claw, slashing across his chest. He stumbled but did not fall. Pain sharpened his focus. Fear held no dominion here. He tightened his grip on the fang.

High above, clinging to a ledge of broken stone, Granny Stitch watched. Her wiry frame was wrapped in tattered armor and oil-stained rags, tentacles anchoring her to the cliffside. Her eyes tracked Kael as he felled the first predator.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered. “That brat actually killed one.”

Below, Kael moved like a storm. Strike, dodge, strike again—every motion a blur, every breath a battle. Pain irrelevant. Fear meaningless. He fought as though possessed, each strike fueled by something awakening within him.

Granny Stitch hissed softly, half awe, half alarm. “Still standing, huh? Damn fool’s tougher than mold.”

But no time for admiration. Four predators shifted toward her position, claws scraping stone, eyes glinting with hunger. She darted between them, snapping and lashing, blocking what she could—but the monsters pressed closer, inch by inch.

For a fleeting moment, she glanced at Kael. Bloodied. Battered. Unstoppable. If he fell… she thought bitterly, I’ll drag these things to his corpse and make a run for it.

Before despair could settle, Kael’s voice rang out like thunder.

“I’m not dying here! Do you hear me? I am the War God! Anyone who comes for me dies first!”

The predators faltered. Kael seized the moment, surging forward. Fang flashing. Two more beasts crumpled before they could strike. Their screams were drowned by the storm of battle.

When silence fell, he stood in a pool of corpses, chest heaving like a storm-tossed sea. Moonlight and blood shimmered across the valley, painting him silver and crimson.

Granny Stitch called down from above, voice equal parts mockery and awe. “Still alive? Damn, kid—you’re harder to kill than a roach.”

Kael tilted his head, blood dripping down his chin. “You still breathing, old woman? Guess I’ll have to save you again.”

“Don’t you dare—!”

But he was already moving.

With a roar, Kael lunged for the cliff, grabbed one of her tentacles, and yanked her into the fray. Granny Stitch shrieked. “You lunatic! Stop using me as a weapon!”

Kael ignored her. The remaining predators circled cautiously now; fear had seeped into their movements. His vision flickered as the War God System’s neural combat grid illuminated his mind—attack patterns, weaknesses, timing. The world slowed. Every motion became a calculated strike, every breath a countdown.

He leapt into the swarm.

Tentacles flailed, deflecting claws. Kael slid beneath one predator’s lunge, thrusting the fang deep into its abdomen. It shrieked, fell in a heap. Another lunged behind him; he spun, using Granny Stitch as a shield, sparks flying as claws grazed her armored shell.

“Behind you!” she shouted.

He pivoted, vaulted onto the creature’s back. “Wrap its neck!”

Granny Stitch cursed but obeyed. Tentacles coiled around the beast’s throat, cracking armor under pressure. Kael tore into its flesh until it collapsed.

Three down. One remained.

Bigger than the rest, carapace black as midnight, eyes burning with cold intelligence.

“That’s their alpha,” Granny Stitch rasped.

Kael grinned faintly. “Good. I was getting bored.”

The alpha roared, shaking the valley. Kael gripped the fang tight, knuckles bleeding.

They charged.

The ground erupted beneath them. Kael dodged a crushing blow, countered with a brutal upward slash, splitting one of the alpha’s claws. It shrieked, struck again, and hurled him into a rock wall. Ribs screamed, but he rose, unbroken.

Second strike—Kael moved with impossible speed, sliding under the massive body, fang plunging beneath the armor. The beast thrashed, spine cracking like dry timber.

“Finish it!” Granny Stitch bellowed.

Kael brought the fang down one last time. The alpha convulsed, then lay still. Its head thudded at his feet.

Silence fell.

Kael staggered back, panting. The moons bathed him in silver and crimson. He laughed—a raw, broken sound.

“I did it,” he whispered. “I actually did it.”

Granny Stitch crawled toward him, battered and twitching. “Not bad, brat,” she rasped. “You almost make dying look fun.”

Kael gave a crooked smile. “You’re welcome.”

The ground vibrated, soft at first, then deliberately. Granny froze. “That’s not the swarm,” she muttered. “Something else.”

Dark figures appeared on the ridge above, armored in engraved silver, moving in perfect formation. The leader stepped forward, silver eyes gleaming under the moons.

“We are observers,” he said calmly. “Collectors.”

Kael’s voice was hoarse. “Collectors of what?”

“Of what remains. Of what should not be forgotten.”

“Scavengers, you mean,” Granny Stitch spat.

The man only smiled faintly. “We preserve what must endure. The rest… fades.”

Kael’s grip tightened. “If you’ve come for my head, you’ll have to earn it.”

“No,” the leader replied. “We offer knowledge, if you have something to trade.”

He gestured to a soldier holding a small metal crate. Inside pulsed a strange device, glowing faintly blue.

“In exchange for this,” the leader said, “tell us what happened here. Tell us what you are becoming.”

Kael reached out, hand trembling slightly. The device thrummed, resonating with the War God System inside him.

Then came the voice.

Ding-dong. Task completed: Frenzied Slaughter (Majestic Version).

Kael froze. Lyndric Fayne’s familiar tone resonated in his mind.

Total Voidspawn slain: nine low-tier land entities. Mission rating: B–. Assessment: remarkable resilience, poor endurance. Reward unlocked—War God Combat Technique Training Course.

Kael exhaled a shaky laugh. “Training course, huh? Guess the fun’s just starting.”

The leader’s silver eyes tilted. “A system speaks through you?”

Kael met his gaze. “It’s my curse—and my weapon.”

“Then the real story begins,” the leader said. “Now.”

Kael stood, battered but unbroken, surrounded by bodies and blood. The valley glowed faintly red, filled with whispers of the dead. The air smelled of iron, dust, and destiny.

Granny Stitch muttered beside him. “You really don’t know when to stop, do you?”

Kael’s eyes never left the horizon. “Stopping’s for the dead.”

The wind rose again, carrying the scent of blood… and something darker waiting beyond the dunes. Deep within, the pulse of the War God beat stronger—steady, relentless.

He turned to the leader. “Alright,” he said quietly. “Let’s talk.”

The man’s silver eyes gleamed. “Then rise, Kael Ardyn. Your becoming has just begun.”

And as the wind carried the echoes of that night into the distance, the world itself seemed to whisper:

The War God had awakened.