The Crippled God of War Rises

The Shadow's Breath

The banquet hall was a scene of absolute chaos, but for Drake, the world had slowed to a crawl.

Thomas Silva and his thugs were being dragged out like dead dogs by the Black Legion soldiers. The Vance family members were huddled in the corner, trembling, not daring to breathe. They looked at Drake—the man they had called "trash" for three years—with eyes full of primal terror.

But Drake wasn’t looking at them. His gaze was fixed on the shadows dancing in the rafters of the high ceiling.

"Marshal?" the Blood General whispered, noticing Drake’s change in posture. "Is something wrong?"

"Take Elena and get out of here. Now," Drake commanded. His voice was no longer just cold; it was lethal.

"But Marshal, your safety—"

"You think these rats can hurt me?" Drake’s eyes flashed with a hint of red light. "The Shadow Saints are here. You and the soldiers are just target practice for them. Move!"

The Blood General gasped. The Shadow Saints! They were the High Council’s ultimate cleanup crew—warriors who had transcended the limits of normal humans.

Without another word, the General grabbed a dazed Elena. "Madam, we must leave!"

"Wait! Drake! What’s happening?" Elena cried out, but the General practically carried her out of the hall, the soldiers forming a defensive perimeter around her.

As soon as the doors slammed shut, the temperature in the hall plummeted. The lights flickered and died, plunging the room into an eerie, suffocating darkness.

Ting.

A sound like a needle hitting the floor echoed from the back of the room.

"Since you’ve come all this way from the Capital, why hide in the dark like cockroaches?" Drake said, standing in the center of the hall, his hands behind his back.

"Asura Marshal... or should I call you the Crippled Ghost?"

A voice drifted from everywhere and nowhere. Suddenly, three figures materialized from the darkness. They wore skin-tight black suits and masks carved into the shapes of weeping demons. In their hands were jagged daggers that seemed to swallow the moonlight.

"The Council was sloppy," the lead assassin hissed. "They should have burned your body to ash three years ago. But today, we will finish the job."

Whoosh!

The three assassins vanished. They moved at a speed that would be invisible to the naked eye.

Clang!

Drake didn't move his feet. He simply raised two fingers and caught a dagger’s blade just inches from his throat. The force of the impact sent a shockwave through the floor, shattering the marble tiles beneath him.

"Speed is decent," Drake commented. "But your killing intent is too loud."

The assassin’s eyes widened behind his mask. He tried to pull the dagger back, but it was as if it were welded to Drake’s fingers.

"Break!" Drake uttered.

Snap!

The high-grade tungsten steel blade snapped like a toothpick. Drake flicked the broken tip. It became a streak of silver light, piercing through the lead assassin’s shoulder and pinning him to the far wall.

"ARGH!"

The other two assassins didn't hesitate. They were professional killing machines. They attacked from Drake’s blind spots, aiming for his heart and his femoral artery simultaneously.

"Asura Domain: Silence," Drake whispered.

An invisible wave of energy exploded from Drake’s body. The two assassins felt as if they had suddenly stepped into deep water. Their movements slowed, and their lungs felt like they were being crushed by an invisible hand.

Drake moved like a phantom. Two punches, simple and direct.

Thud. Thud.

The two assassins flew across the room, their chest plates caving in. They hit the stone pillars with enough force to cause cracks to spread to the ceiling. They slumped to the ground, dead before they could even scream.

Drake walked toward the pinned leader, his footsteps heavy and rhythmic.

"Who sent you?" Drake asked, his shadow looming over the man. "Was it the First Elder or the Second?"

The assassin coughed up a mouthful of black blood. He started to laugh manically. "It doesn't... matter. You think you're safe? Look at your watch, Marshal. The 'Yin Poison' in your blood... it wasn't just to cripple you. It was a beacon."

Drake’s expression shifted. He pulled back his sleeve. The veins in his wrist were turning a dark, bruised purple.

"The moment you used your 'Asura Power,' the beacon activated," the assassin sneered. "Right now, every mercenary and bounty hunter in the Eastern Hemisphere knows the Asura Marshal is alive and in this city. You haven't started your revenge... you’ve just started a war."

With a final, jagged breath, the assassin bit down on a poison capsule in his tooth and slumped over.

Drake stood in the dark hall, the purple veins on his wrist glowing faintly. He felt a familiar, burning pain in his chest. The poison was reacting to his power.

‘So, they want to turn this city into a hunting ground?’ Drake thought, a dark, twisted smile forming on his lips.

He pulled out his phone and dialed a number that hadn't been called in three years.

"This is the Marshal. Activate the 'God-Slaying Array' over the city. Close the borders. From this moment on... no one leaves this city alive."

Outside, the sky was beginning to turn a blood-red hue. The hunt had begun, but the hunters didn't realize they had walked into the lair of a monster.