The Supreme War God Has Returned!

*****

If there was one battleground the world dreaded above most... one that has become the very symbol of death, it was undoubtedly the West End.

Millions of soldiers had already met their ends here in the most ruthless, unceremonious ways.

Every single day at West End, soldiers were filled with the same two questions.

‘Will I survive tomorrow?’

‘Is today the day I die?'

Surviving a day here wasn’t something you celebrated. If anything, it brought dread, exhaustion, and terror for the unknown, knowing you could still lose your life any second.

….

Yet this very moment, the West End was the complete opposite of what it had been for five long, blood-soaked centuries.

It was late into the night, yet the atmosphere was nearly beyond joyful.

Millions of soldiers from Country Aran, covered in blood, sweat, battle scars, and injuries that could make an ordinary person faint from terror, were scattered on a wide plain, every last one of them appearing as though sanity had finally abandoned them.

“WHOOOOOO!!!”

Their voices tore through the night, echoing endlessly as though the heavens themselves were cheering alongside them.

Some battle-hardened soldiers… men who had stared death in the eye more times than they could count were on their knees, sobbing without restraint and pressing their foreheads into the dirt as tears streamed freely.

“Victory at last!!!” they howled.

Kaboom!!!

Boom!!!

Fireworks continued to explode overhead as gunshots rang into the sky.

“All hail the Supreme War God and the four Gods of War!!!”

……

At the same time, while the deafening roars of celebration threatened to tear the heavens apart outside, a suffocating silence, heavy enough to press against the chest ruled within the commander’s tent.

Six figures… Country Aran’s President, the Four Gods of War, and an elderly man stood bowing.

They were men whose names alone could shake the nation, yet, right now, their bodies angled in the same direction with perfect… almost terrifying precision.

In the center of it was a 25-year-old man in simple army camouflage, his expression calm and unreadable, his hands loosely folded across his chest.

He stood there with absurd nonchalance, his expression unchanged… as though the scene had nothing to do with him.

No one could imagine how the outside world would have reacted to such a scene; after all, what kind of young man gets bowed to by six of the most powerful figures of a country… and reacts like he’s mildly inconvenienced?

But…

He was Mighty Supreme War God, the entity whose appearance had long been the subject of wild speculation.

…

“Supreme War God, please don’t retire!” The president's voice suddenly broke the heavy silence, coming out hoarse.

As soon as his words echoed, the four Gods of War nodded their heads hurriedly, their usual composure gone.

One of them, a muscular man in bloodied camouflage sniffed hard, gritting his teeth.

“Please,” he added urgently. “You’ve just led us to crushing the enemy. What if they have hidden reinforcements? What if they regroup and attack once you’re gone?!”

“That’s right, Supreme War God,” a second god of war added, his voice cracking, “you are the West End’s backbone. We… we will collapse in your absence.”

Another chimed in, desperation seeping into his voice. “This is when you should be enjoying your glory and reputation! Please don’t leave now!”

“Supreme…”

Their pleas overlapped, their eyes bloodshot.

Especially the four Gods of War… men who had once stood unyielding against armies.

Then, in a sudden burst of reckless courage, the President blurted out, “If leading the army is exhausting you… Supreme War God, I will hand over the presidency to you!”

The words echoed like thunder.

“At least this way,” he continued hastily, his eyes shining with hope, “you will still be the nation’s pillar and morale!”

Everyone instantly turned to the president, slightly taken aback. But then…

“In case you don’t want the presidency position, Supreme War God…” The patriarch's voice cut in hurriedly, hope returning to his eyes.

“…you can take my position as patriarch.”

His eyes shone brighter as he spoke.

“At least this way, you won’t be crushed by endless responsibilities again. All the country’s and my family’s resources would be at your disposal.”