The last warlord

The Rice of the War God

The days following the awakening of his power passed in a blur. Adrian tried to walk the fine line between control and chaos, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. The hunger, the rage—it gnawed at the edges of his consciousness, ever-present, always pulling him toward destruction. He had taken the first step, but now he had to contend with the reality of being a war god once more.

In the days after claiming the artifact, Adrian found himself no longer wandering the city as the man he once was. His eyes were sharper, his instincts honed to an unnerving degree. People seemed to notice him more now, though they didn’t understand why. It wasn’t just the power that radiated from him—there was an aura of danger that followed him wherever he went. Something had changed deep within him, and it was visible in the way he moved, the way he looked at the world.

He had never been a particularly imposing figure in his human life. But now, it was as if the remnants of his divine essence were slowly reforming the physicality of a god. His shoulders were broader, his body leaner, but it wasn’t just the external transformation that unnerved him. It was the sense of being a walking storm—a living embodiment of the wrath that had once been his purpose.

The whispers of power spread quickly. Adrian didn’t seek it out, but it found him. His presence alone was enough to start drawing attention, and as much as he tried to resist, the war god within him stirred, demanding action. He didn’t know if he was ready for it, but the world wasn’t waiting. And neither were the enemies that soon came knocking.

One evening, as the sun dipped beneath the horizon, a low rumble of thunder echoed through the city. Adrian stood atop a rooftop, looking out over the sprawling urban landscape. The once-bustling streets now felt foreign, as though the city had lost its connection to him. He had been a part of this world, scraping by, struggling like everyone else. But that Adrian was gone now. And in his place was someone—or something—more dangerous.

A shadow appeared in the distance, a figure moving through the alleys below. Adrian’s instincts kicked in. He could feel the weight of the approaching danger, could sense the malice that radiated from the figure.

Without thinking, he dropped from the rooftop, landing with a soft thud on the pavement below. The figure—tall, imposing, and cloaked—stopped in its tracks as Adrian approached.

“I knew you’d come,” Adrian said, his voice colder than he expected, his tone carrying the edge of someone who had already seen too much violence.

The figure looked up, revealing a face Adrian knew all too well—an old adversary from his past life, a general he had once commanded. The man’s eyes were now red, glowing faintly with an eerie light. He was one of the many who had been lost to the wars of gods, a soldier who had taken on the mantle of power in his own way.

"You should not have come back," the general growled, his hand twitching toward the weapon at his side.

Adrian smiled coldly. “I didn’t come back. I was never gone.”

Without warning, the general charged, a battle cry escaping his lips. Adrian didn’t flinch. He was a war god now, and in his blood, the thirst for battle had always been there. He moved like a blur, dodging the general’s strikes with ease, his body flowing with an unnatural grace as he anticipated every movement.

With a swift, brutal motion, Adrian’s fist connected with the general’s chest, sending him crashing into the ground. The impact cracked the pavement beneath them. Adrian stood over him, watching as the general struggled to rise, his face contorted in disbelief.

“You’re not the only one who’s changed,” Adrian said, his voice low and dangerous. “You don’t get to play god anymore.”

The general’s eyes flickered with fury. “You’ve always been a pawn. You think you can handle the weight of war? You think you’re the only one who’s been chosen by the gods?”

Adrian’s grip tightened around the general’s throat, lifting him effortlessly off the ground. The power inside him surged again, and this time, it felt more natural, more at home within him. He wasn’t simply fighting for survival anymore. He was fighting for dominion.

“You’re wrong,” Adrian growled, his grip tightening. “I’m not a pawn anymore. I am the war.”

With a single, violent motion, he crushed the general’s throat, ending his life in an instant. The body fell limply to the ground, and Adrian stood over him, breathing heavily. The hunger for battle still gnawed at him, but the satisfaction of victory filled him in a way that was unsettling.

As the general’s body began to fade into the ether, disappearing as though it had never been, Adrian realized something crucial. The gods of war weren’t just memories. They were alive within him, and they demanded their tribute. The power he had claimed had already begun to take its toll. His body was stronger, but his soul… his soul was becoming something else.

The weight of it all pressed down on him. The more victories he claimed, the more battles he fought, the more he could feel the divine presence within him stretching its tendrils deeper into his psyche. He wasn’t just a man anymore. He was a god—war incarnate. And the world would soon feel the impact of his awakening.

The power was intoxicating. But so was the price.