The Forgotten War God Son-in-law

Chapter 8: The Exiled King

‎The city was quiet, but the air itself seemed charged with tension. Ethan Cole stood on the highest rooftop of Westbridge, overlooking the city that had once betrayed him. Each shadow seemed alive, each alley a potential threat, and each flicker of movement a reminder that enemies were everywhere.

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‎Marcus approached, his expression grim.

‎“Commander, the Syndicate is regrouping faster than we anticipated. They’re consolidating forces in the eastern district, and reports suggest someone new is leading them someone with power comparable to yours.”

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‎Ethan’s eyes darkened.

‎“Then it’s time to remind them who was exiled… and who was underestimated.”

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‎He descended from the rooftop, moving through the wet streets like a phantom. The rain from the previous night had left the city slick and glistening. Each step was measured, every motion precise. Civilians scurried indoors, sensing the tension, unaware that the man they once knew as Ethan Cole was now something far more formidable the Forgotten War God returned.

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‎In the eastern district, Syndicate operatives prepared for battle. Their new leader, a man known only as The Exiled King, had taken command after the previous lieutenant’s defeat. Tall, imposing, and radiating lethal energy, he observed the city from a high vantage point, eyes scanning for Ethan.

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‎“They’re coming,” one operative whispered.

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‎The Exiled King’s smirk was cold.

‎“Let them come. Tonight, the one they call the War God will learn what exile truly means.”

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‎Ethan’s presence was sudden and silent. He dropped from the shadows onto the rooftop across from The Exiled King, rainwater dripping from his jacket, eyes locked on the enemy.

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‎“Your reign ends tonight,” Ethan said calmly, voice carrying over the distance.

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‎The Exiled King’s smirk widened.

‎“Reign? I’m not reigning yet. You’re the one who should fear, War God. You’re alone… and you’ve returned to a city that has changed.”

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‎Ethan’s smirk mirrored his own.

‎“Alone? Hardly. Allies are always in the shadows. And as for the city… it’s about to learn the price of underestimating the exiled.”

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‎Lightning flashed, illuminating the rain-soaked rooftops. The stage was set for a battle that would shake Westbridge to its foundations.

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‎Exiled once, underestimated twice… tonight, the king falls.

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‎Rain fell in sheets, drenching the rooftops and streets below. Lightning split the sky as Ethan and The Exiled King faced each other across the narrow gap between two tall buildings. The tension was electric, a storm matching the fury that would soon erupt.

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‎“You’ve grown,” The Exiled King said, eyes narrowing. “But so have I.”

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‎Ethan’s expression remained calm, almost serene, though every muscle was coiled, ready to strike.

‎“Then let’s see who has truly learned from exile.”

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‎With a single, fluid motion, Ethan leaped across the gap, landing with the grace of a predator. The Exiled King met him mid-air, their clash echoing like thunder. Fists collided, sending sparks of energy into the night, each strike shaking the surrounding rooftops.

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‎The Exiled King moved with lethal precision, anticipating Ethan’s attacks, but he underestimated the depth of Ethan’s power. Every punch, every kick, every movement was amplified by years of exile, training, and the rage of being wronged.

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‎Ethan’s fist connected with The Exiled King’s chest, sending him crashing into a rooftop parapet. The Syndicate operatives watching from below gasped this was no ordinary fight. This was a war between titans.

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‎The Exiled King rose swiftly, blood streaking his face, eyes burning with fury.

‎“You think this ends here?” he spat. “I am no mere lieutenant! I am the one who survived the purge… the one they could not break!”

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‎Ethan’s smirk was cold.

‎“Survival isn’t enough. Power is what matters. And you… have not seen mine yet.”

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‎The battle escalated. Both men moved like shadows and lightning, strikes so fast they blurred in the rain. Rooftops cracked under the force of their blows. Windows shattered. Alleyways echoed with the roar of the storm and the clash of gods.

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‎Suddenly, The Exiled King vanished from sight, using the darkness and rain as cover. Ethan paused, sensing a shift in the battlefield. His instincts screamed this was no retreat.

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‎A faint signal from Marcus confirmed it: The Exiled King had escaped, disappearing into the city.

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‎Ethan’s eyes narrowed, his expression deadly calm.

‎“Good. Let him run. The hunt has only begun. Every corner of this city will reveal the truth… and every shadow will fear the name Ethan Cole.”

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‎Ariana stepped closer, her face pale but determined.

‎“Commander… what now?”

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‎Ethan looked at her, voice low, cold, and unwavering:

‎“Now… we prepare. He has escaped, yes. But the Exiled King is only the beginning. The real storm is still out there, waiting.”

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‎The rain continued to pour, masking Ethan’s figure as he vanished into the night. Westbridge City, for all its lights and shadows, would never be the same again.

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