THE SAVIOR GOD OF WAR RETURNS

Jack Parker stood at the window of Old Joe's mountaintop villa, watching the sunset paint the sky in hues of orange and purple. The faint scent of expensive perfume hung in the air, mingling with the aroma of aged whiskey.

"Your flight leaves in three hours," Old Joe said, his voice carrying the weight of decades. "Everything is prepared for your journey to Draconia."

Jack turned to face his mentor. Old Joe reclined on a leather couch, surrounded by three beautiful women who hung on his every word. Despite his advanced age, the old man's eyes remained sharp, missing nothing.

"I'm ready," Jack replied, his voice steady. "I've trained for this my whole life."

Old Joe gestured, and one of the women brought forward a wooden box. "Open it," he instructed.

Inside lay a dagger, its blade etched with intricate dragon patterns. The hilt, crafted from polished bone, fit perfectly in Jack's palm.

"The dragon dagger," Old Joe explained. "An ancient weapon passed down through generations. It will serve you well."

Jack slid the dagger into his jacket. "Thank you."

"And this," Old Joe continued, producing a leopard-print credit card. "Unlimited funds for whatever you might need. The Wilson family is powerful, but money offers freedom."

"What about the arrangement?" Jack asked. "What should I expect from Emily Wilson?"

Old Joe's expression softened. "The contract was made long ago. I've watched over you since you were a boy, preparing you for this moment. Emily Wilson is your destiny."

"And what if she doesn't want this marriage?"

"That's for you to navigate," Old Joe replied. "When the time is right, someone will find you."

Before Jack could ask more questions, a statuesque blonde whispered something in Old Joe's ear. The old man stood with surprising agility.

"My jet is waiting at the airstrip. Maria will drive you," he said, gesturing to a brunette. "Remember your training. Trust your instincts."

As Jack walked toward the door, Old Joe called after him. "Jack! Remember—in Draconia, the winds change quickly. Be ready for anything."

Within moments, the women had whisked Old Joe away, leaving Jack with more questions than answers.

The plane touched down in Harmonfield amid gently falling snow. Jack pulled his coat tighter as he exited the terminal. The city sprawled before him—a blend of modern architecture and old-world charm, all blanketed in pristine white.

In the back of a taxi, Jack reviewed the engagement contract one final time. The document was straightforward—two powerful families joining forces through marriage. But he couldn't help wondering about the woman he was promised to.

Will she be kind? he thought. Beautiful? Or cold and calculating like so many in positions of power?

Jack pictured Emily as he'd been told—graceful, intelligent, with a gentle smile. But imagination and reality seldom aligned perfectly.

"Where to, sir?" the taxi driver asked, breaking his reverie.

"Wilson Group headquarters, please," Jack replied.

As they drove through downtown Harmonfield, Jack observed the city's wealth. Pristine storefronts displayed luxury goods, while well-dressed pedestrians hurried along snow-covered sidewalks.

This will be my home now, he thought, watching his breath fog against the window.

Suddenly, tires screeched ahead. Jack's head snapped up as their taxi skidded to a halt. Twenty yards ahead, two cars had collided at an intersection. Before anyone could react, four masked men emerged from a black van, weapons drawn.

"Stay in the car," the driver said, voice trembling.

Jack watched as the armed men approached one of the crashed vehicles. They dragged out a woman with auburn hair, her forehead bleeding from the impact.

"Sarah Thompson," one robber shouted. "Just who we were looking for."

The woman—Sarah—struggled against her captors. "Let me go! Do you know who my grandfather is?"

"That's exactly why we grabbed you," the masked man replied. "William Thompson will pay handsomely for his precious granddaughter."

Jack silently opened the taxi door.

"Sir, what are you doing?" the driver whispered frantically. "Those men have guns!"

Jack stepped onto the snowy street. "Wait here."

As he approached, one of the robbers noticed him. "Stay back, hero!" the man shouted, pointing his weapon at Jack.

Jack continued forward, his pace unhurried. "Let her go," he said, voice calm despite the gun aimed at his chest.

The leader laughed. "We've got ourselves a brave one! What are you going to do about it, friend?"

"I'm not your friend," Jack replied. "Last chance. Release her."

"Kill him," the leader ordered.

The gunman pulled the trigger.

In that instant, the falling snow seemed to explode into action. A blur of movement cut through the air. When it stopped, all four armed men lay on the ground, their throats slashed with surgical precision.

Sarah Thompson stumbled backward, her eyes wide with shock. Around them, bystanders stood frozen, unable to process what they'd just witnessed.

"What... what just happened?" Sarah gasped.

Before Jack could respond, black SUVs screeched to a halt around them. Security personnel in tactical gear poured out, surrounding Sarah protectively.

A distinguished older man emerged from the lead vehicle. "Sarah!" he called, rushing to embrace her.

"Grandfather," she sobbed, collapsing into his arms. "They were going to kidnap me."

William Thompson surveyed the bloody scene, his expression hardening when his gaze fell on the four dead men. Then, he looked up, searching for Jack—but he was nowhere to be seen.

"Who did this?" William demanded of his security team. "Who saved my granddaughter?"

"A man in a gray coat, sir," one guard replied. "He approached the kidnappers, and then... I've never seen anything like it."

William's eyes narrowed as he scanned the gathering crowd. "Find that man," he ordered. "No matter what. Search all of Harmonfield if you have to."