The War God Is Back

Chapter 3

Justin didn’t even turn.

“Kenneth,” he said calmly, his voice steady as the wind moved through the field, “there is no need for that. This is a mission I will handle myself. Order all troops to return to the border.”

The man behind him stiffened immediately, as if the words carried absolute authority that could not be questioned.

“Yes, General,” Kenneth replied without hesitation. “I will do just that.”

Justin finally spoke again, his voice lower now but carrying a pressure that made even trained soldiers listen carefully.

“And the information I requested?”

“Yes,” Kenneth answered quickly. “Anita Black is still in Boron City, and Mr. Jaden’s location has been confirmed.”

At the mention of the name, a faint change appeared in Justin’s expression, so small that most people would not have noticed it, but those who knew him well would understand it meant something dangerous was about to begin.

Jaden.

The man who had led the ambush.

The enforcer who had obeyed Anita’s orders without hesitation.

The one whose men had pulled the trigger on his family without mercy.

Justin’s eyes slowly darkened as the memory returned like a wound that had never healed.

“Jaden…” he murmured, as if tasting the name in silence.

Without another word, he turned and walked toward a sleek black car waiting nearby, its surface reflecting the cold light of the sky.

“Let’s pay that man a visit,” Justin said calmly as he opened the door, his voice colder than before, “then we will visit that evil woman Anita.”

The door closed behind him with a soft but final sound, and the car pulled away, leaving behind the silent ranks of soldiers who remained standing under the wind.

Far away in Boron City, the atmosphere was completely different, yet just as tense.

A warehouse stood sealed tightly at the edge of an industrial zone, its iron doors locked from the outside and its windows boarded so that no light could escape. Inside, a single bulb hung from the ceiling, swaying gently as if even the air itself was unstable. Its weak light stretched long, distorted shadows across the cold concrete floor, making the entire place feel smaller and more suffocating than it truly was.

In the center of the room, an elderly man in his late fifties was tied firmly to a metal chair.

His expensive suit was torn, stained with dust and dried blood, and his proud posture had been forced into a painful bend that stripped him of dignity. Every breath he took looked like it cost him strength he no longer had. Not far from him, a young woman lay on the ground with her wrists tied behind her back, her body shaking as she tried desperately to hold back her tears, but fear kept breaking through anyway.

They were not alone.

Nearly twenty armed men stood around them in a loose circle, each one holding knives, guns, or iron rods with the confidence of people who had done this many times before. Their expressions were calm and empty, as if violence had become routine rather than something to fear.

A deep voice broke the silence.

“Hey, old man,” one of them said lazily as he stepped forward, “you better sign these papers. I don’t have all night.”

The man who spoke was Jaden.

He was in his late forties, built like a wall of muscle and experience, standing taller and heavier than most in the room. A long black coat hung from his shoulders, moving slightly as he walked, and a cigarette rested between his lips as though nothing in the world could disturb his calm. The smoke curled slowly into the air, making the entire situation feel even more careless, as if what was happening was just another ordinary job.

The elderly man, Christopher Clark, lifted his head with effort despite the pain in his arms.

“You cannot do this to me,” he said firmly, forcing strength into his broken voice. “I am the head of the Clark family, and I refuse to be treated like a common criminal.”

Jaden gave a low chuckle, taking a slow drag from his cigarette before exhaling the smoke directly into Christopher’s face.

“I don’t care who you are,” he replied flatly, as if the words meant nothing at all. “I am just here to do my job.”

He gestured lazily toward one of his men, and a folder was immediately thrown onto Christopher’s lap.

“Miss Anita wants your company,” Jaden continued in the same emotionless tone, “and you are going to give it to her, one way or another.”

Christopher clenched his jaw so tightly that the muscles in his face trembled.

“You think this ends well for you?” he said through the pain, forcing every word out with difficulty but refusing to show fear. “I have connections. I have power. People will come looking for me.”

Jaden did not react at first.

Then he stepped forward.

The smile that had once rested on his face disappeared completely, replaced by something colder and far more dangerous. The room seemed to shrink the moment he closed the distance between them, as if even the air was afraid of what was about to happen.

“So,” Jaden interrupted quietly, pulling a sharp dagger from his coat, “we either do this the easy way…”

The blade moved in slowly, pressing against Christopher’s cheek with chilling precision. The cold metal kissed his skin, and a thin line of blood slowly appeared where the pressure increased.

“…or the hard way.”

On the floor, Anna Clark began to shake uncontrollably.

Tears streamed down her face as she watched the blade against her father’s skin, her chest rising and falling too quickly as panic took hold of her. Every breath felt shallow, every heartbeat heavy, as if fear itself was pressing down on her ribs.

“Please… stop…” she whispered helplessly, but her voice was too small to matter in the room filled with armed men.

Christopher’s eyes burned with anger even in his pain.

“And who the hell does Anita think she is, taking my company by force?” he roared suddenly, straining against the ropes that held him. His voice carried fury more than fear, as if his pride refused to die even now.

For a brief second, the room went silent.

Then a sharp sound cracked through the air.

Slap.

Christopher’s head snapped violently to the side as Jaden’s heavy hand struck him across the face. The force of the blow echoed through the warehouse, and blood spilled from the corner of Christopher’s mouth, dripping down onto his torn collar.

“How dare you speak her name like that,” Jaden growled, his voice low and sharp as steel. “She is the wife of Allistair Brentwood, the most powerful man in Boron City. You will comply, whether you like it or not.”

The name carried weight, like a shadow that stretched across everything in the room.

“Dad!” Anna cried out desperately, dragging herself across the floor despite her bound hands. She pressed her body against her father’s side, trying to steady him as he struggled to stay upright. Her small frame trembled violently as she held onto him, as if refusing to let fear take him completely.

“Are you okay?” she asked through tears, her voice breaking.

Christopher coughed hard, blood staining his lips, but even in that condition he forced a weak smile meant only for her.

“I am fine,” he whispered softly, his voice barely holding together. “Don’t be scared.”