Rise of the Super War God

Chapter 8: The War God Awakens

Kael Ardyn set the jars aside with a soft clink and turned to the last mural. This one felt different—not a story of the past, but a pulse of prophecy. A mountain carved skyward dominated the stone, its peak hollowed into a perfect, dark circle. Rows of figures knelt around it, heads bowed, arms reaching toward the void. Above, a strange sun spiraled—neither blinding nor faint—suspended between creation and collapse.

Granny Stitch tilted her stitched head, catching the dim glow of the cave. “Worship,” she murmured, voice rough yet soft. “A ritual… or a plea. Mercy, maybe.”

“Or a warning,” Kael said, eyes narrowing. “They carved this in a cave, not a temple. Whoever did this wasn’t praying—they were hiding.”

Silence filled the cavern, alive with the occasional drip of water from stalactites. Then the ground shivered beneath their feet—a low, lazy rumble that made dust fall like gray sparks. Kael froze, instincts screaming, thoughts racing.

“Did you feel that?” he whispered.

Granny Stitch’s tentacles stiffened. “Not feel. Listen.”

From the cave mouth came a soft scrape, growing into dozens of noises: claws chittering, limbs dragging, shrieks slicing the air like broken glass.

Kael’s jaw tightened. “Voidspawn.”

“They tracked scent,” Granny Stitch said, calm but wary. “Yours. Mine. Doesn’t matter. They’ve found us.”

Shadows flickered where pale moonlight barely touched the cave entrance. A massive silhouette slammed repeatedly against the boulder they had rolled into place.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

Droplets rattled from stalactites, echoing like a drumbeat of doom.

“They’re forcing their way in,” Granny Stitch said. “You can’t fight that many.”

Kael flexed his fingers, calm. “I can try.”

Her voice snapped like a whip. “Don’t be reckless, boy! Strength isn’t immortality. Charging headfirst into a swarm is suicide.”

Then a strange metallic chime pulsed in his mind.

Ding.

A voice followed—cold, mechanical, precise, familiar. The System.

Time seemed to slow. Threads of invisible energy wove through him, precise, calculating. The System had awakened.

Angles. Distances. Weak points. Airflow. Sound trajectories. Every move, every counter, every escape flashed before his eyes. The cave became a battlefield in his mind, every outcome weighed. The thrill was intoxicating.

Granny Stitch hissed softly. “It’s tempting, isn’t it? That thing knows how to make you fight.”

Kael’s lips twitched. “Maybe. Or maybe it knows me too well.”

Outside, pounding intensified. The Voidspawn shrieked, driven by blind hunger.

“The System feeds you the future,” Granny Stitch muttered, awe mingling with caution.

Kael’s pulse synced with the cave itself. “We’ll make the cave our weapon,” he said, low and deliberate. “Smoke, fire… delay. Spiritwine.”

Granny Stitch blinked. “Planning traps now? Good. At least that brain isn’t decoration.”

Together, they moved with precision. Strips torn from Kael’s tattered cloak, soaked in Spiritwine, became torches. Stones and shards shaped choke points, forcing the creatures to crawl, slow down, and hesitate. Each motion was precise, ritualistic almost. The cave seemed to pulse with purpose, anticipating his command.

Kael felt the System hum beneath his skin. Every breath, every heartbeat, a pulse of power. Gray light flickered in his left eye, syncing with his resolve.

“Ready?” Granny Stitch whispered.

Kael nodded.

The boulder shook as the first Voidspawn forced its way in. Translucent, skinless, too many limbs, eyes like wet glass reflecting torchlight. It lunged. Kael met it head-on.

Muscle, reflex, System guidance—every strike precise. Sparks flew as blade met flesh. Screeches pierced smoke and flame from Spiritwine-soaked cloth. Confusion fractured the swarm.

“Now!” Granny Stitch hissed.

Kael surged, spinning, striking—a storm of steel and fire. The System fed him glimpses of the next move before it happened. Another creature smashed into a stalactite; his blade followed instinctively. Firelight etched calm, deadly resolve onto his face.

Granny Stitch watched, awe and caution in her scarred eyes. “Not human anymore. You fight like the War God you’re meant to be.”

Kael didn’t answer. He felt beyond life, beyond death. The System was no longer a tool—it was part of him, whispering, guiding, sharpening.

The last Voidspawn charged. One strike. Silence. Only crackling fire remained.

Ding.

Light dimmed in his left eye. Muscles relaxed, yet the cave remained alive with tension. He stood, blade dripping black ichor, chest heaving.

“You survived. Barely,” Granny Stitch muttered, tentacles curling around her head.

Kael offered a faint, humorless smile. “We both did.”

The drip of water resumed. Her gaze lingered. “The thing in your head… awake again. You know what that means?”

Kael’s expression darkened. “It’s hungry.”

Shadows stretched and beckoned. He tightened his grip on the blade, stepping forward. Ground slick, air biting cold. Only his gray eye illuminated the path, spectral mist curling like smoke from a funeral pyre.

Her red eyes widened. “By the abyss… those eyes. Cursed and divine. How did you forge them? They outclass my blood-red ones by a tier.”

Kael’s voice was low, deliberate, and commanding. “Later. Survive first. Scout. Water. Maybe food.”

Granny Stitch grumbled but obeyed, disappearing into the shadows. Kael followed, every step measured, muscles screaming with exhaustion. Water guided him.

A small chamber revealed itself. Stalactites dripped cool liquid onto the stone. Kael tilted his head, swallowing the first sip—salvation after twenty hours of thirst. Limbs eased, throat soothed, lungs grateful.

Granny Stitch sampled another drip point. Then she paused. “Markings… murals… bones. This place wasn’t always empty.”

Kael’s gray light swept the walls. Murals told fragments of a war-torn land: storm-dark skies, enormous moons or ships, and fleeing winged creatures. The Voidspawn Swarm had ravaged everything.

Another mural: a wounded humanoid in a cave, blood pooling beside a flat stone slab. Two jars are depicted beneath it.

“Check under the slab,” Kael instructed. “Supplies—water, maybe food.”

Tentacles probing, Granny Stitch lifted the stone. Two jars revealed themselves. One reeked of decay—rotten meat. The other sharp, clean. Spiritwine. Kael nodded. “We hold it.”

Tentacles dipped into the remaining drops. “Useful… if we find meat to roast.”

Kael’s thoughts brushed against the System. Lyndric’s voice echoed:

Mission: Frenzied Slaughter (Dignified Edition). Host must exterminate all insectoids outside the cave, using the Stitched Granny as a meteor hammer if necessary. Time is critical. Cowardice results in full System control and planetary extermination.

Kael blinked, then glanced at Granny Stitch. She raised a silent eyebrow, unreadable. The War God System was never subtle.

Pulse racing, he gripped her tentacle, wielding her as instructed. Spiritwine burning through his veins, intent unwavering. “You were born to be a weapon,” he muttered.

Granny Stitch hissed, yet her limbs coiled, letting him wield her with precision.

The cave pulsed with new purpose. Outside, insectoids waited, unaware that their predator had awoken. Gray light pulsed in Kael’s eye. He was no longer prey. He was the War God incarnate.

Step by step, he advanced toward the cave mouth. Fang in hand, Spiritwine in veins, Granny Stitch a living weapon. Tonight, the world would witness the birth of a War God.

And somewhere, the universe seemed to hold its breath.