They Crossed Me, I Became the God of war

Eighteen-year-old Gideon Knox felt his entire world collapse into fire and blood. Black smoke choked his lungs, while the blazing heat of his burning family home scorched his face. Cold rain poured from the dark sky above, but he barely felt it against the overwhelming heat of the flames.

Near the garden wall, Gideon held his little twin sisters tightly against his chest, his hands shaking with helpless terror. Eight-year-old Lily and Maya were sobbing into his soaked shirt, their small bodies trembling so violently that he could feel their racing heartbeats.

A few feet away in the mud knelt his father, Arthur Knox. Seeing the proud, loving man who had raised him bleeding heavily from his side tore Gideon’s heart to pieces, filling his mouth with the bitter taste of ash and tears.

Three black luxury cars blocked the iron gates with their bright lights blazing into Arthur’s battered face. His body was covered in deep wounds, his hands shaking in the dirt as he struggled to keep his head up to protect his children.

A smooth, cruel laugh cut through the sound of the burning timber. A young Dominic Caldwell walked out from behind his armed guards, wearing a sharp gray suit and twirling a combat knife in his fingers.

"You ruled the city harbor for thirty years, Arthur," Dominic sneered, resting the flat steel blade against Arthur's bleeding jaw. "Did you really think my family would let you keep all that wealth forever?"

Arthur coughed, spitting thick red blood into the mud before glaring up at the young heir. "Take the shipping routes, Dominic! Take the ships and take the docks! Just let my children go!"

"You still do not understand, old man," Dominic laughed, his smile turning wicked and ugly. "In this city, the strong step on the weak without mercy. If you are weak, you do not even deserve to breathe."

Gideon saw the knife move and felt a cold spike of panic shoot through his chest. He immediately wrapped both his hands around his sisters' heads, pulling their faces into his chest so they would not see the horror.

"Do not look, girls," Gideon whispered in a trembling voice, tears washing through the soot on his cheeks. "Close your eyes tight and hold on to me."

Dominic shoved the knife deep into Arthur’s chest without blinking once. Arthur let out a choked gasp, his fingers clawing at the gravel before he locked his fading eyes straight onto Gideon.

"Run, Gideon!" Arthur roared with his very last breath, blood spilling past his lips. "Run and become strong! Do not look back until you can crush them all and avenge our family!"

The old man fell face-first into the cold mud, his body going completely still. Dominic wiped the bloody blade on Arthur's coat and turned toward the dark shadows with a sharp shout.

"Get the boy!" Dominic barked to his gunmen. "Kill every single one of them! I want every Knox dead before the sun comes up!"

Gideon scooped both his little sisters into his arms and bolted into the narrow alley behind the burning house. Cold rain lashed his face as his boots slipped across the slick stones, his lungs burning with every breath.

Gunshots cracked through the dark street, bullets chipping the brick walls behind him, but he never slowed down. He held the two crying girls tight, running until his legs felt like lead.

He reached a small wooden house hidden at the quiet end of the docks and threw his shoulder hard against the back door. The lock gave way, and seventeen-year-old Cassandra Reed pulled him into the dark kitchen.

"Gideon!" Cassandra gasped in terror, her hands shaking as she saw the blood on his clothes. "I saw the fire from my window! Everyone is saying the Caldwells are hunting your family down!"

Gideon gently set Lily and Maya down onto the wooden floorboards, his body shaking from exhaustion. The two little girls clung tightly to his wet pants, weeping so hard they could barely breathe.

"They murdered Father, Cassandra," Gideon said, his voice cracking with raw agony. "Dominic stabbed him right in front of my eyes."

Maya buried her face into his knee, her tiny fingers clutching his cold sleeve. "Big brother, please do not leave us," Maya wept, shaking from head to toe. "I am scared. Please stay with us."

Gideon knelt on the floor, wiping the cold rain and tears from their pale faces while his own heart broke into pieces. He forced a warm smile through his tears, holding both their hands.

"Listen to me, Maya. Listen to me, Lily," Gideon said softly. "You must hide here with Cassandra while big brother pulls the killers away from this house. You have to be brave for me, okay?"

He stood up and pulled his metal enlistment tags from his neck, pressing the cold steel into Cassandra’s trembling hands. He looked straight into her eyes, his face deadly serious.

"The Caldwells framed Father for treason," Gideon said. "I will lead their men toward the northern army outposts and take the blame myself so they stop looking for you."

"The northern trenches?" Cassandra cried out, holding his tags tightly against her chest. "They send criminals there to die in the snow, Gideon! Nobody ever comes back from that graveyard!"

"I will come back," Gideon said, his voice turning hard as iron. "Keep them safe, Cassandra. Guard my sisters with your life. I will crawl out of hell and return to build you an empire."

Cassandra gripped his fingers, tears streaming down her cheeks as she nodded in the dim light. "I promise, Gideon. I swear I will protect them with my life. Just come back alive for me."

Gideon looked at his weeping sisters one last time, turned his back, and ran into the pouring rain. He ran into the stormy night, shouting loudly to draw every killer away from his little sisters.

***

Ten years passed like a bloody nightmare.

A fierce snowstorm swept across the frozen rocks of the Northern Frontier, covering the fallen enemies in thick snow. The wind howled through the valley, carrying the smell of smoke and blood.

Boris Dragov, the brutal enemy warlord who had slaughtered thousands of soldiers along the border, lay bleeding out in the red snow. His right arm was cut clean off at the shoulder, and his breath came in short, desperate gasps.

"Wait! Please, Knox, wait!" the dying enemy commander screamed, dragging his broken body across the frozen ground. "Look at the screen! Look at the money!"

Gideon Knox walked through the blinding storm, wearing a heavy wolf-fur coat over his black military uniform. His face was carved like dark stone, his cold eyes showing no pity as his combat knife dripped hot red blood onto the ice.

"Fifty billion dollars!" Dragov cried out, waving a satellite tablet with his one remaining hand. "Fifty billion in private Swiss accounts and three offshore oil fields! It is all yours if you just let me live and give me a transport out of here!"

Gideon stopped right in front of him, the crunch of his combat boots sounding like a death bell. He stepped down hard, his heavy boot crushing Dragov's remaining wrist into the stone with a sickening snap.

Dragov shrieked in pure agony, his face shoved deep into the freezing red slush. He wept like a terrified child, looking up into the eyes of the man towering over him.

"Fifty billion dollars cannot bring back a single drop of blood from my dead scouts," Gideon said, his quiet voice cutting through the storm like ice.

"Show some mercy!" Dragov sobbed, shivering violently in the snow. "We are both soldiers! Show some mercy!"

"You showed no mercy to the innocent," Gideon said flatly, his dark eyes empty of all warmth. "You get none today."

With a clean flick of his arm, the steel flashed through the storm. Dragov's head flew into the air and landed hard in the snow, rolling to a dead stop against a frozen rock.

Thousands of miles away, inside the high-security war rooms of major world powers, leaders stared at their satellite screens in pure shock. The warlord who had terrorized the continent for ten years had been killed like a dog.

A foreign four-star general stood up slowly from his seat, his face completely pale. He snapped his boots together and raised a stiff, fearful salute to the screen.

The ten-year northern war was over. The man known as the Asura of the North stood completely alone at the top of the world.

Commander Alistair Kane walked over through the snow, stopping three paces away with a clean white cloth held in both hands. Behind him stood six division generals, their heads bowed low in deep reverence.

"Supreme Commander," Kane said, his voice trembling with deep respect. "All enemy bases have surrendered unconditionally. The entire northern border is finally secure."

Gideon took the cloth and wiped the dark blood from his blade until the steel was completely clean. He did not look at the burning bases behind him.

"Casualties?" Gideon asked quietly.

"Very few, sir," Kane answered promptly. "The presidents of four nations are on the priority satellite line right now, begging for an audience with you."

"Tell them to wait," Gideon said, sliding the knife back into the leather sheath at his waist.

Before Kane could answer, a sharp, buzzing ring cut through the quiet air. Gideon stopped in his tracks, his eyes narrowing.

The sound did not come from his military radio. It came from the deep inner pocket of his heavy coat.

He reached inside with his leather glove and pulled out an old, scratched red phone. It was tied to the single private number he had left with Cassandra ten years ago.

In ten years of non-stop war and blood, this phone had never rang once. Gideon pressed the button and held the receiver to his ear, his steady voice wavering for the first time.

"Cassandra?" he asked quietly.

A wild, terrified scream tore through the small speaker, followed by the sound of glass breaking and heavy blows. The sound of weeping filled the line.

"Gideon! Help me!" Cassandra wailed over the line, gasping for air between sharp sobs. "They found us! They kicked the gate wide open!"

Gideon's entire body turned rigid as stone. "Cassandra, speak clearly! What is going on?!"

"It is Dominic Caldwell!" Cassandra screamed in pure panic. "His men came in black vans and broke into the house! They dragged Lily and Maya right out of their beds!"

A freezing chill raced through Gideon’s veins as his voice dropped into an icy tremor. "Where are my sisters?!"

"They dragged them into the street!" Cassandra sobbed hysterically. "The girls were crying your name, Gideon! Dominic’s thugs beat me to the floor and kicked me in the stomach... there is blood everywhere!"

"Where did they take them?!" Gideon demanded, his voice dropping into a terrifying roar that shook the very ground under his boots.

"To the docks!" Cassandra cried. "Dominic said he is going to cut them open! He said the Caldwells own everything now! Gideon, please, they will kill me! Come home! Please, come home!"

A heavy blow landed on the other end, followed by a dull thump before the line went completely dead.

Gideon stood frozen in the white storm. The air around him suddenly thickened, turning so heavy and suffocating that the wind itself seemed to stop blowing.

The falling snow did not even touch his coat; it turned to mist five feet away from his body under the crushing force of his rising fury. His eyes turned entirely bloodshot, burning with a murderous rage so vast it felt like hell had opened beneath the mountains.

His bare fingers tightened around the titanium phone. The metal frame groaned and twisted into crushed powder and broken glass, spilling like black sand through his fingers.

Behind him, Alistair Kane and the six division generals gasped for air, clutching their chests. The pressure rolling off Gideon felt like a physical mountain pressing down on them, forcing their knees to buckle against the ice.

Two hardened generals collapsed onto both knees in the snow, shaking in sheer terror. They had fought beside Gideon through a hundred bloodbaths, but they had never felt him unleash his full, unrestrained wrath.

"Supreme Commander!" Kane choked out, cold sweat pouring down his face as he struggled to speak. "Your orders?!"

Gideon turned around slowly. His face was not wild; it was as still and cold as an open grave, radiating an aura of total slaughter.

"Alistair," Gideon said, his voice flat, low, and chilling to the bone.

Kane dropped to one knee instantly, pressing his fist against his chest. "Sir!"

"Cancel the peace summit," Gideon ordered, walking past the kneeling generals toward the runway. "Warm up the Mach-5 stealth transport. Lock down all civilian airspace over Port Valenford right now."

He stopped at the ramp of the dark aircraft and looked toward the stormy southern sky, his fists clenched tight enough to draw blood.

"The Caldwell family has lived ten years too long," Gideon whispered into the freezing wind. "I am going home to butcher them all."