Chapter 6: The Fall and Rebirth of the War God

Lucien Windrider never believed in fate—until fate thrust him into the abyss.

His childhood was a nightmare of ice and blood.

Twelve Years Ago

Before he became the Empire's War God, before the black armor and the iron cavalry, Lucien was just an orphan in a nameless village at the empire's frozen northern frontier.

A land ruled by blizzards and hunger, where even the sun begrudged its light.

The village, a cluster of no more than a dozen straw huts, survived on hunting and scavenging the frozen remains of dead beasts.

Lucien was born during a century's worst winter.

The hunters froze to death in the forest, and the women and children gnawed on tree bark to survive.

His mother, a frail weaver, wrapped him in rags, feeding him nothing but a frozen crust of black bread, keeping him alive until he was six.

His father was a silent hunter, his face carved by the wind and frost, his only weapon a rusty short blade.

The Night Fate Bared Its Fangs

At six years old, Lucien learned the meaning of helplessness.

On a moonless night, the wolves came.

From the depths of the frozen forest, a dozen pairs of green eyes flickered in the dark.

Lucien remembered his mother's trembling voice as she shoved him into a pile of firewood.

"Don't make a sound. Live."

Through the gaps between the logs, he saw his father charge with a short blade, striking at the alpha—only to be torn down by three wolves.

Blood sprayed onto the snow, staining his vision red.

His mother's scream was brief and sharp before it was swallowed by snapping jaws.

The wolves rampaged through the village.

The thatched roofs collapsed under their weight, and the villagers' dying wails were slowly drowned by silence.

By dawn, the village was a graveyard.

Lucien was the only survivor.

The Cold Forged a Beast

He crawled out of the firewood, the sky draped in gray snowfall.

The corpses lay scattered, frozen mid-agony.

His limbs were numb with cold, but he clutched his father's blade—the edge chipped, the handle soaked in blood.

He staggered into the forest, hunger gnawing his stomach like a wild beast.

He found a dead tree, gnawed off a few strips of bark—it was so bitter, it felt like poison, but it kept him alive for another day.

On the second day, he found a half-eaten deer corpse, its blood still warm.

He cut the raw flesh with his father's blade, forced it past his gag reflex, and swallowed.

If he did not eat, he would die.

By the fifth day, he was little more than skin and bones, yet his ice-blue eyes burned with savage light.

That same day, he found a broken sword in the snow—rusted and dull, but sharper than his father's knife.

It became his first weapon.

His first kill was a lone wolf cub—he impaled its throat with the broken sword, skinned it for warmth.

But the stench of blood drew something bigger.

A full-grown grey wolf.

Lucien remembered its low growl, the saliva dripping onto the snow.

He charged—barefoot, weapon raised.

The wolf's claws tore into his chest, leaving deep gashes, but he thrust his sword into its eye.

Blood splattered across his face.

At that moment, his fear burned away—replaced by a thrill unlike any other.

His first taste of slaughter.

The Path of the Mercenary

The wolf pelt kept him alive.

The bloodstains attracted mercenaries.

A burly, bearded man spotted the half-dead boy wrapped in wolf fur, clutching a broken sword like it was life itself.

He tossed Lucien a piece of stale bread.

"Kid," he rasped. "Follow me. Just survive."

Lucien bit into the bread, and followed.

At ten, he made his first kill—a vagrant who tried to steal his food.

At twelve, he butchered a bandit leader alone.

At fifteen, he drove his sword through the mercenary leader's chest and took his place.

The scar across his face, running from his brow to his temple, was the price he paid for the throne.

The Empire took notice.

Rise of the Windrider

At eighteen, he was conscripted.

The nobles sneered at him—a nameless orphan from the frozen wastes.

By twenty-two, he made them kneel.

With a mere handful of soldiers, he repelled an army ten times their size and won his first war.

The nobles called him "Windrider."

The soldiers called him "War God."

The emperor draped black armor upon him, named him Supreme Commander of the Northern Cavalry.

He rode into a hundred battles, left only corpses in his wake.

Victory was his crown.

The battlefield, his throne.

But victory breeds fear.

Fear breeds betrayal.

The Fall of a War God

The Nightshade Family—the empire's venomous shadow, the masters of spies and secrets.

They pretended to kneel, but sold his war plans to his enemies.

The noble houses conspired.

At Frostwind Gorge, Lucien led five thousand cavalry into battle against thirty thousand rebels.

A hopeless battle.

But winnable.

Yet, his supply lines were cut.

His reinforcements delayed.

The trap snapped shut.

His blade carved through thousands, but one by one, his men fell.

He fought until his body was pierced by a dozen spears.

His blood stained the snow.

As his vision dimmed, he heard the nobles laughing.

The Nightshade spies had delivered the final blow.

His body sank into the freezing river, dragged beneath the ice.

The Voice in the Darkness

But death was not the end.

As his soul drifted in the abyss, a cold, mechanical voice spoke.

[War God System activating…]

[Host: Lucien Windrider.** Death requirements met.**]

[Mission: Revenge. Reclaim your fate.]

Rebirth

Lucien's eyes snapped open.

Time had rewound three years.

He stood in his war tent, sword in hand, his armor unstained by blood.

He gripped his blade tighter, lips curling into a slow, chilling smile.

This time—

I trust no one.

In three years, he rebuilt his Iron Cavalry, burned the rebellions to ash, and purged the nobles in fire and steel.

First on his list—

The Nightshade Family.

He personally led the attack on their stronghold.

Burned their keep.

Slaughtered them like rats.

And their last heir, Selena Nightshade?

He threw her into the dungeons.

Her fate was sealed.

He would execute her before the empire—so they would all remember…

Betraying the War God leads only to death.

Lucien Windrider stood amidst the ruins of the Northern Battlefield, his black war armor gleaming under the setting sun, the last drops of blood trickling from his sword.

He had just executed the final rebel warlord.

With this victory, he was ready to march south and cleanse the Empire.

Selena should have been dead.

Everything should have been settled.

Until the cold, mechanical voice of the War God System shattered his composure.

[Warning: Target 'Selena Nightshade' has not died as scripted. Current fate trajectory is highly anomalous.]

Lucien's pupils contracted. His grip on the hilt of his sword tightened, and in a flash of fury, he nearly swung it through the air.

His voice was thunder, shaking his cavalrymen to their core:

"What?!"

[Intelligence Update: Selena Nightshade has escaped execution, seized 5,000 gold worth of Imperial military supplies in Grayfog City, captured Redblade Catherine and Sharktooth Jack, and now **controls the city's smuggling routes and a portion of the mercenary guilds.]

Lucien's face darkened instantly. The scar across his cheek twitched.

With a single downward slash, his sword split the ground beneath him, sending shards of stone flying.

Rage ignited in his chest like wildfire.

"That woman was nothing but a pathetic, lovesick fool!"

"She sold out her own family for me!"

"In my past life, she died by my sword without resistance!"

Yet now—

Not only was she alive, but she had stolen his supplies, captured his subordinates, and was running rampant in Grayfog City?

Lucien clenched his jaw, eyes brimming with murderous intent.

"How?" His voice was low, dangerous.

"How does a side character—a mere stepping stone—dare defy me?"

A lieutenant approached cautiously, his body tense.

"Commander," he reported, "urgent scouting reports confirm that Grayfog City's supply caches have been raided, and that Catherine and Sharktooth are missing."

Lucien narrowed his eyes.

"Missing?" He let out a cold chuckle.

"They're not missing."

"They've knelt."

He shut his eyes.

The memories of betrayal and humiliation from his past life crashed against the fury of his rebirth.

Selena's betrayal had left him isolated, surrounded, doomed.

And now, that venomous serpent was rising again.

"War God System, analyze her."

[Target Analysis:

Selena Nightshade currently exhibits abilities including short-range teleportation, poison mist control, shadow manipulation, swordsmanship proficiency, and firearm mastery. Origin of abilities unknown, potentially related to Nightshade family secret arts or unidentified external force. Threat Level: Mid-High.]

Lucien's breath grew heavier.

These abilities—they didn't belong to her.

His War God System had granted him supreme martial prowess, battlefield command, and peerless combat ability…

But Selena's abilities were too unpredictable.

He snarled:

"Nightshade secret arts? That woman was a fool—how could she have unlocked them?"

With one furious swing, his sword cleaved a boulder in half, sending shattered stone exploding outward.

His cavalry remained silent, afraid to even breathe too loudly.

Just then—

A scout, covered in dust and blood, stumbled into the camp.

He collapsed to his knees, trembling.

"C-Commander!"

"Urgent report from Grayfog City!"

Lucien turned, eyes burning like a storm.

"Speak."

The scout swallowed hard.

"Catherine and Sharktooth have arrived at our forward camp…"

Lucien's gaze sharpened.

"And?"

The scout's voice quivered.

"They… they bring a message from Selena Nightshade."

The air in the war camp turned deathly still.

Lucien's fingers curled, his gloved knuckles cracking.

"What did she say?"

The scout trembled, hesitated—then forced the words out:

"She said…

'The Nightshade Family has returned.

I'm waiting for your Iron Cavalry.'"

A wave of silence.

The temperature seemed to drop.

Lucien's expression twisted into something dangerous.

The veins under his scarred face bulged.

She dares to challenge me?

His fist clenched the scout's collar, yanking him closer.

His voice was pure ice.

"She has the nerve to provoke me?"

Lucien shoved the scout aside, turning toward the night sky.

His chest heaved, rage clawing at his ribs like a beast in a cage.

Then—

He exhaled, slowly.

A smile curled at his lips—cold, cruel, deadly.

"Fine."

"Selena… I want to see exactly how far your poison spreads before I crush you."

He strode into his war tent, boots crushing gravel underfoot.

With a flick of his hand, he unfurled a map, his finger pressing onto Grayfog City.

"Send word."

"Summon the Iron Cavalry."

"We march on Grayfog City in three days."

He straightened, eyes gleaming with dark anticipation.

His voice was resolute.

"Lock down the city."

"Burn the docks."

"Capture Selena alive."

"I want her kneeling before me."

[New Mission: Eliminate Selena Nightshade. Reclaim Control.]

Reward: +5000 Fate Energy. Unlock Ability: 'War God's Domain'.

Lucien's lips curled further.

"You want to play, Selena?"

"I will show you…

Who is the true War God."