The King Of War Returns (Jaden Rift) novel Chapter 83

Jaden turned back toward Peter, letting silence weigh heavy in the chilly air. His piercing gaze fell upon him — not in rage, but in icy resolve — as if marking him, choosing him, framing him to carry a message that words could not convey.

“Your adopted father thinks this is a joke… a minor matter… something a piece of black card can resolve.” Jaden’s voice was firm and gravelly, a king’s sentence upon a traitor. “It’s time I show him just how serious this is.”

He raised his hand, and without a word, Drax stepped forward from the shadows. His large hands presented a katana — a blade forged in the finest steel, a shimmering curve of death itself. Jaden grasped it casually, letting the metal glimmer under the dim glow of the heavens.

Peter’s knees trembled beneath him. His face turned ashen, lips quivering. “N… no… King… please… please… I beg you… please, spare me… please… please...” His voice faltered into a desperate whine.

Jaden remained silent. His grip tightened on the hilt.

Then — with a single, decisive slash — the blade fell.

The katana cut through flesh and bone as effortlessly as a scythe through grass. The arm fell to the gravel with a sickening thud, a stump of bloody flesh all that remained attached to Peter’s shoulder.

For a moment there was a horrified silence — a pause in the universe — then a piercing, anguished scream tore from Peter’s soul. His agony was raw, pure — a chorus of suffering — as arterial blood spurted in a dramatic arc, staining the stones beneath him.

Jaden remained impassive. Without ceremony, he turned toward Drax. “Take it. Deliver it to Williams’ Gravesend… a message… a warning… Let him know that if he doesn't show up I'll kill his last hope of his lineage..”

Drax nodded quietly, knelt, and retrieved the severed arm. His grip was firm, unfazed by the bloody mess, and then he turned and walked back into the shadows.

---

Just then, a young servant rushed into the room, his face a mixture of fear and urgency. “Master Williams… Master Williams!”

Williams sighed, a small frown creeping across his face. “What is it this time?” His tone was firm.

The servant swallowed hard. “I… I can’t say it here… But… you need to come… immediately. The kidnapper… has… sent a message. A… a very important delivery.”

He nodded toward the large box in his hands — a wooden crate, its surface smeared with something dark and sinister.

The room fell silent. Everyone turned to stare — first at the box, then back at Williams — trying to gauge their master’s reaction.