The King Of War Returns (Jaden Rift) novel Chapter 118

At the Thornfell Mansion

The grand hall of the Thornfell estate reeked of wealth, control… and blood. Marble floors gleamed under the crystal chandelier, yet the air was heavy with the scent of violence.

Agatha Thornfell stood by the towering windows, her sharp heels clicking softly as she tapped the floor with impatience. Her presence alone was suffocating—dressed in a midnight black suit, a venomous smirk playing on her lips.

A servant scurried in, his head bowed so low it nearly brushed the polished floor. He dropped to his knees, holding out a sleek black folder with trembling hands.

“Master… everything you requested on Jaden Rift,” the servant reported, voice shaky.

Agatha snatched the folder, flipping through its contents. Her eyes narrowed with each page—military records, combat accolades, special ops reports—the boy was no longer a stray.

“Hmph… disappeared for years… so that bastard ran to the army,” she sneered, her voice dripping with contempt. “And now he crawls back, thinking some battle scars and a fancy uniform will let him challenge me?”

Her jaw clenched so tight the veins in her temple pulsed. The folder slipped from her fingers, scattering papers across the marble like fallen leaves.

“Insolent fool,” she hissed. “The Thornfell family owns Ravenmoor. Crushing him will be no different than squashing a rat beneath my heel… or a stray dog under a car.”

Her eyes darkened with old hatred, voice trembling with venom. “When I erased that whore of a mother he had… I should’ve finished the root along with the branches!”

Her nails dug into her palms, drawing faint lines of blood. The servant flinched but remained kneeling, knowing better than to breathe without permission.

“Madam…” the servant swallowed hard, then added, “One more thing… Shadow… has been released from Blackgate Prison. He sent word… He’ll be participating in the upcoming Bloodborne Trials… He promised to ‘handle’ the Rift matter for you.”

The Bloodborne Trials.

An ancient, brutal tradition woven into Ravenmoor’s legacy. Every ten years, the most powerful families sent their champions—mercenaries, assassins, heirs—to fight for dominance. Status, land, power—everything was wagered in the arena. Defeat meant death. Victory secured your bloodline’s rule… until the next trial.

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