The Untouchable God of War

Chapter 3

The Foster mansion stood like a monument to power, an estate built in the most exclusive district in the city, its gates guarded,

Tonight, the whole place glowed gold with light and music, dressed up for a celebration that had been planned for months.

Fluorescent lights hummed softly above the grand ballroom. A live orchestra played soft classical music from the corner, the notes drifting over dozens of guests in formal wear, champagne glasses in hands, laughter rising and falling politely.

Tonight was Ezra Foster's sixtieth birthday.

This wasn't just any gathering, this was the room where the city's real power lived: top businessmen, senators, judges, police commissioners, and media moguls, all of them dressed, all of them here because being seen at Ezra Foster's party meant something.

In the center of it all stood Ezra himself, dressed in a tailored black suit, a smile of satisfaction curling his lips. Beside him, his wife Nancy wore a deep red gown that clung to her like a second skin, her arm linked through his, the two of them moving through the crowd like royalty greeting their court.

"Happy birthday, Mr. Foster. May your empire keep growing."

"Happy birthday, sir. It's an honor just to be in this room tonight."

"Sixty years old and still the sharpest man in this city. Happy birthday, Mr. Foster."

"You built something none of us could ever touch. Happy birthday."

"May this new year bring you even greater fortune, sir."

"Happy birthday, Mr. Foster. The city is lucky to have a man like you."

"An honor, truly an honor, to celebrate with you tonight."

"Happy birthday. May your legacy live on forever."

Ezra soaked in every word like sunlight, nodding, shaking hands, letting the praise wash over him. This was everything he had built his life toward: respect, fear dressed up as admiration, a room full of powerful people bowing their heads to him.

"Thank you, all of you," he said, raising his glass slightly. "I'm grateful you came to celebrate with me tonight."

More voices rose around him.

"Look at you, sixty and still sharper than men half your age. Happy birthday, sir."

Everyone wanted a piece of his attention. Everyone wanted the Foster family to remember their faces.

Ezra lifted his champagne glass higher, clearing his throat, ready to deliver his speech, the room quieting in anticipation.

That was when the doors at the far end of the ballroom opened, and a large box wrapped in gold paper rolled slowly across the marble floor, pushed by two men in delivery uniforms.

A murmur rippled through the crowd, as eyebrows lifted and whispers passed from guest to guest.

Ezra turned to his wife, she shook her head, just as confused as he was.

"Mr. Foster really is something," one guest laughed. "Even his gifts need a grand entrance."

"That box must be worth half a million at least."

"Whoever sent that is trying very hard to earn his favor."

One of Ezra's personal bodyguards approached, bowing his head slightly. "Sir, forgive the interruption. This was delivered just now, addressed to you directly."

"Who sent it?" Ezra asked, mild amusement still on his face.

"A delivery company, sir. There was a note attached." The guard handed it over.

Ezra unfolded the small card and read it aloud with a chuckle. "Happy birthday. This will be your best gift ever, from your anonymous friend."

He laughed, he assumed it was some business partner trying to curry favor, or perhaps a rival hoping to look generous in front of the room.

"Well then," he said, waving a hand toward his men. "Let's see what my anonymous friend has sent me."

The guards moved forward, working at the ribbon and gold paper, the crowd leaning in with curious excitement, whispers buzzing through the ballroom like static before a storm.

The final wrap came loose.

BANG!

The box burst open, and two lifeless bodies dropped onto the marble floor with a heavy thud.

The music died mid-note.

Silence swallowed the entire ballroom, thick and suffocating.

Every guest froze, champagne glasses halfway to their lips, eyes locked on the two corpses sprawled across the floor, blood already spreading in dark pools beneath them.

Everyone stood shocked and scared.

Who would dare send something like this to Ezra Foster, on his own birthday, in his own house?

Were they insane?

Did they not fear what would happen to them?

Ezra's jaw clenched, his composed expression cracked, rage building silently behind his eyes.

Then the ballroom's main doors open with violent force, slamming against the walls hard enough to rattle the chandeliers above.

Every head turned.

A young man stood in the doorway, dressed in a dark coat, rain still clinging to his shoulders, his boots heavy against the marble floor as he stepped inside. His eyes were cold, and burning with anger.

Gabriel walked forward, his eyes locked on Ezra.

"Happy birthday, Ezra Foster," he said with an unshaken voice, "Happy birthday."

Gasps rippled through the crowd, mouths fell open and eyes went wide with disbelief.

Who was this man?

Had he lost his mind?

He hadn't just sent two dead bodies as a gift, and he had walked into the room himself, into a house full of Ezra Foster's most powerful allies alone.

Nancy's face twisted into a scowl of disgust and fear. Ezra's expression darkened, his grip tightening around his champagne glass until it shattered in his hand, blood mixing with spilled wine down his fingers.

"How dare you!" a deep voice boomed from beside Ezra.

A huge man stepped forward, muscles straining against his black uniform, his presence alone enough to make most men step back.

This was Toby, former soldier, master of hand to hand combat, and Ezra most trusted enforcer.

"Who do you think you are?" Toby snarled, stepping toward Gabriel with fists already clenched. "You bring corpses into Mr. Foster's home, on his birthday, and you dare walk in here yourself?"

The bodies on the floor kept bleeding, the smell of copper starting to fill the room, turning stomachs among the well-dressed guests.

Gabriel didn't glance at Toby, his gaze stayed locked between Ezra and the man now closing in on him.

Toby’s fury only grew hotter at being ignored. "You've insulted me and humiliated Mr. Foster in his own home. Leave now, or I'll personally deliver your head to him as a real birthday gift."

Gabriel's eyes finally shifted toward him.

Then he moved like lightning.

His fist connected with Toby's jaw before the bigger man even grasped what was happening, a strike so fast, sending Gabby stumbling backward into the stunned crowd.

Boom!

The sound of breaking bone echoed, Toby's scream tore through the silence as his knee buckled and hit the marble floor hard.

Gabriel didn't stop, he drove his boot across the side of Toby's head in a brutal arc.

Toby's massive body crashed sideways onto the floor, his skull cracked, his eyes rolling back before going unconscious.

The ballroom fell into a silence heavier than before, disbelief written across every face in the room.

Nobody had ever seen Toby beaten, nobody had ever imagined it possible. He had crushed hundreds of men in his career, and this stranger had dropped him in seconds without even breaking a sweat.

Whispers erupted through the crowd.

Who was this man?

Where had he come from?

Was he sent by one of Ezra’s rivals?

A hired killer?

Someone seeking revenge?

Gabriel straightened his coat, not worried by the chaos around him, his eyes finding Ezra across the room and he glared at him.

"I've been looking forward to meeting you, Ezra Foster." His voice was cold as ice, cutting through the silence. "And I think today turned out to be the perfect day for it."

His lips curled into a cold smirk.

"Did I ruin your birthday party?”