He had waited his entire life for this moment.
The chains of fate had tightened around this precious point in time. His existence had endured solely for this instant.
From the grueling labor that had killed his mother, to the terrible accident that had taken his father, to passing through the gates of the orphanage, where he had been raised until he was old enough to work in the mines, the tides of fortune had relentlessly driven him toward his destiny.
Today would be the day he became one with God.
This was neither lazy self-aggrandizement nor mad exaggeration.
Even as a child, he had known he was destined for greatness. It showed in how he always ran faster than the orphanage matrons, how he was always bigger and stronger than children his own age.
It showed in how he had not shed a single tear when those indifferent people put his parents into the cold earth, and in how he had eliminated his chief rival at the sports meet when he was nine.
Even the way he had disposed of the body—throwing it down a well and making it look like an accident—had foretold his greatness.
And when the holy light of the cult spread across the town where he had been born, his greatness was finally acknowledged.
Flames emerged from the mist like a torrential rain, along with thousands of cultists, Beasts, and even more powerful followers of the Blood God.
Villages and farms fell beneath their fierce assault, and the atrocities they committed made his blood boil.
They skinned their victims to make banners and decorated their altars with half-dead prisoners of war.
After the remote countryside had been razed, they turned their attention to the town. He knew he had to do something to welcome his