THE WAR GOD'S RECKONING

“D-Daddy…?”

The voice was tiny, shaking, like the child was trying to whisper so nobody would hear her, then she sniffed hard like she was forcing the tears back

“It’s… it’s little Rose. Mummy said I shouldn’t call you,” she rushed the words out, breathless, and scared. “She said you’re outside… saving the world and that you’ll be angry if I disturb you.”

A soft sound came, like fabric rubbing against the mouthpiece, like she’d covered the phone with her palm

“But Daddy, I’m scared,” Rose whispered, and her voice cracked on the last word. “My body hurts. The fat aunt keeps beating me again and again. She says I’m bad. She says I’m jinxed.”

The man on the other end didn’t speak and not because he didn’t want to

But because his throat locked, and something cold rose from his chest to his skull

Rose kept going, like she couldn’t stop once she started

“Aunt Amelia tried to help me,” she said quickly. “She stood in front of me. She told her to stop. The fat aunt pushed her… Aunt Amelia hit the table and she’s bleeding, Daddy. She’s not waking up fast.”

A thin whimper slipped out before Rose caught it

“Daddy please,” she whispered, “Come and take me away. Please. I don’t want to stay here. I’m hiding behind the curtain now. I’m holding my breath. My heart is doing boom boom, Daddy.”

Somewhere behind the girl, a shrill roar exploded.

“You little bastard, didn’t I tell you not to touch that phone!”

Rose sucked in a breath and panic crept into her voice.

“Daddy, the fat aunt is here. Little Rose has to go now… or little Rose will be in trouble.”

The call cut off.

-‐-

On the Southern West Plains, a man in blood-stained military gear stood motionless amid the wreckage of war and smoke curled around his boots.

None of it mattered as he stared at the phone in his hand, his fingers trembled once and then stopped.

The child’s voice echoed again in his head, it wasn’t loud or dramatic but just scared and something inside him cracked.

The air around him dropped several degrees as a suffocating pressure slammed outward. Soldiers within ten meters stiffened. Some instinctively lowered their heads and some struggled to breathe as a presence descended.

“Trace this number.” His voice was calm.

“Now.”

The phone left his hand and a soldier caught it mid-air, hands shaking.

“Yes, sir!”

Keyboards clattered, screens flickered and no one dared waste a second.

“Sir,” the report came quickly, tense and precise. “The signal is in Orange City.”

The man turned.

“Prepare the chopper.”

“Yes, sir!”

“I want wheels up in three minutes.”

The soldier hesitated, just a fraction and sweat slid down his temple.

“Sir… the fastest possible launch is five...”

The man looked at him and that was all it took

“I said three.”

The soldier swallowed hard. “Y-Yes, sir!”

The pressure intensified and the battlefield itself seemed to bow.

That was his daughter.

Five years ago, he had signed his life away for family

His sister was dying, bills were choking him and he was desperate enough to accept a humiliating deal, to marry into a powerful family just to get the money, and keep his sister alive

On the condition that he would replace his wife’s useless brother and enlist in the military.

He agreed but on their wedding night, he was drugged, he remembered fragments, heat, darkness and losing control.

But by morning, he was gone

Dragged into service and thrown into hell before he even fully understood what happened

For five years, he fought his way through hell, from ordinary soldier to the highest rank, carving his name into war zones until men started calling him what they feared

God of War

The youngest ever

And today, after a battle had ended and bodies were still warm in the dirt, he powered up an old phone he hadn’t touched in years, out of nothing but a quiet urge he couldn’t explain

Then fate called him back with a child’s trembling voice

He didn’t expect he had left anything behind that night, didn’t expect a daughter or to hear her begging him to save her

---

“You little bastard, didn’t I tell you not to use that cursed phone again.”

Inside the dilapidated house, a woman’s voice sounded. Her bulk filled the doorway as she loomed over the little girl clutching a phone with both hands, her fingers shaking so badly the screen rattled.

The girl looked frighteningly like the man from the battlefield, just smaller, weaker and dressed in a black gown so worn it had been patched too many times to count.

Rose shrank back instinctively.

“Little Rose was just calling Dad,” she whispered, tears rolling down her dirt-streaked face. “Please… please don’t hit Little Rose.”

The woman laughed, “You little bastard,” she sneered. “Didn’t I tell you your father is dead? You’ll never see him again.”

“That’s a lie,” Rose cried, shaking her head hard, as if denial alone could protect her. “Mum said Daddy is protecting the country. She said he’ll come back and protect little Rose and play with me.”

“Is that so?”

The woman stepped forward and grabbed a fistful of Rose’s hair, yanking her head back violently.

“Didn’t I warn you never to mention that cursed thing in front of me again, you filthy bastard!”

“Please...please don’t hurt little Rose!” the girl sobbed, tiny hands clawing at the woman’s wrist. She was too weak.

“Shut up!”

The slap came hard.

Rose flew across the room and crashed into the wall.

“Rose!”

A thin figure rushed forward in panic, kneeling beside the girl.

“Are you hurt?”Amelia asked, her voice shaking as she checked Rose’s face.

The woman turned slowly, a mocking smile spreading across her face.

“So the aunt wants to protect the bastard’s niece now.”

“My niece is not a bastard!” Amelia snapped, forcing herself upright.

“Is that so?” the woman laughed loudly. “Then tell me...where is her father?”

“My brother is away for a while,” Amelia said through clenched teeth. “He’ll come back.”

“Away?” The woman scoffed. “Five years and still not back? Tell me, where is he if he’s not dead?”

“My brother is not dead!” Amelia shouted.

The kick came without warning.

Amelia collapsed to the floor, the breath knocked out of her, another kick followed and rhen another.

She curled instinctively, groaning as bruises bloomed across her face. Blood spilled from the corner of her mouth as she coughed violently.

“Please stop hitting Aunt Amelia!” Rose cried, stumbling forward and grabbing at the woman’s clothes with all her strength.

“How dare you touch me, you filth!”

The woman kicked Rose aside.

The girl hit the floor hard. Pain exploded through her small body, but she forced herself back up, staggering, then crawling toward them.

“Please… please stop,” she begged, blood trickling from her nose and mouth. Her arms shook and her legs dragged uselessly behind her and still, she crawled.

The woman kicked her again.

Rose cried out but didn’t stop moving, her eyes fixed stubbornly on her aunt.

“Since you’re so eager to die with that foolish woman,” the woman sneered coldly, lifting her leg once more, “I’ll grant you the death you’re begging for.”

She began to kick them both but a voice cut through the room,

“Raise that leg one more time and you wouldn’t even know how you died.”