Somewhere, in a chamber filled with hushed whispers, a being unlike human was being born. Or more precisely, “it” had already taken root in its worshippers’ mind and was simply bidding it time, slowly manifesting its form in reality.

Everything had been for this single moment. The first step in their grand plan, their grand ambitions, the embodiment of the ideals they spoke of materializing to signal the change of an era. The eyes of zealot worshippers, its shine made even brighter by the undertones of their human desires, were glowing in the dark, but none can match the radiance that was emitting from the object of their desires. No, that was inaccurate; “it” was technically not the very object that they wish for, but was the crucial driver to make their wish a reality. All to defy the fate that was imposed upon them, by imposing a stronger “fate” upon the world.

That’s right, their “fate” was stronger. So much as they believed, stronger “it” became.

The torches all around the chamber flickered, even though there was no wind. The fire extended like thorny vines towards the central of the chamber, where there was a black coffin with glowing runes carved into it. The light grew dense, the boundary between illumination and the darker corners of the room growing sharper. The figures on the ground remained prostrated, their whispers like a rumble beating against the low ceiling, but none dared to move out of place in fear of the mystique that was occuring in front of their eyes. Or was it anticipation that seized them, watching as their hard work finally coming to fruition?

Then, all the torches were extinguished, their arm-like shadows on the walls disappearing as if eaten. The only thing visible was the coffin with its carvings, glowing with a silvery hue. Not a moment later, the whispers that filled the room also faded away like colors drained from a canvas. The runes on the coffin had stopped glowing, and in its place was a pale long arm emerging from inside the coffin.

Bony white fingers like porcelain were stretched out as if the figure laying in the coffin was reaching for something far away. Then just like a fleeting memory, the hand simply dropped to the side of the coffin, propping the figure inside into a sitting position.

Tall nose bridge, eyes blacker than ink, hair white like strands of silver cascaded down the wide shoulders. Its skin was pale without a single blemish, and the lines on its body were sculpted. The muscles rippled on its back, and its entire torso was taut like a beast ready to pounce onto its prey.

There was a silver hue around it, not eye-prickling but sharp like the light of a full moon. It turned to look at the clothed figures laying before it, its eyes dark like the abyss.

“It” was born. The God Killer had awakened.

———

— Your name will be Luther. Luther the God Killer.

That was when it was first aware of its title. It instinctively knew of its purpose - to kill Lumina the Goddess of Fate - but putting it to a human-like expression was a novel experience. It was aware of the difference between it and the humans that worshipped it, but it was simply a fleeting thought to a barely sentient being that it was. After all, it was not “human” enough to realize that it was simply a tool to the humans that supposedly served it.

Humans were weak. Humans also had words coming out of them as seemingly endless as the amount of thoughts they seemed to possess. It could not guess what they were thinking, but it was sure there was some sort of special way in which they created these thoughts - if humans were guided by their thoughts to act, then what kind of thoughts had resulted in such a range of actions, most of which seemingly without reason?

It then learned of emotions, which was a special kind of thoughts that seemed to have a huge influence on what the humans decided to do. It realized that the source of its power came from the thoughts of humans towards it - or more accurately, the feelings of reverence and hope towards it. It looked, and looked; and even though the result was predictable, it still felt a sense of loss when it could not detect the same feeling of reverence and hope within itself. Reverence and hope towards what? The fleeting thought in its mind continued, but there was no answer.

Those disgusting pigs in the temple! They have all the time in the world to deal with nobles and merchants, but not a single second to spare for us!

The Chosen Star, the priests, the nobles, they are all cut from the same mould. They just want us to remain their obedient slaves, happily giving up our possessions in the name of ‘worshipping the Goddess’!

The Goddess? Would she even care for the lives of those who couldn’t afford the ‘donation fees’?

There was a lot of human killing. Sometimes it questioned if any of this was necessary, but its instincts drove it to follow the requests of the worshippers. It could never understand the bitter rage when they voiced their desires, the way their eyes were stretched wide as they roared in laughter when it showed them the bloody remains. Humans were weak, but in certain moments its eyes would be glued to the inexplicable power within the expressions of those weak humans.

Sublime satisfaction, erupt joy, cathartic liberation. The expressions of those who asked it to kill.

Stricken fear, breathless desperation, gripping resignation. The expressions of those who it had killed.

Its existence was like its thoughts, calm and uneventful with nary a ripple for years and years. But strangely enough, humans with their short lifespan seemed to exist in a different form within every moment of their life. During moments when they were consumed by this “emotions” that it had yet to grasp, humans seemed to condense the entirety of their existence until that point into a single unique expression. There was so much power in that singular existence, that even it was somehow momentarily daunted.

Because that was a power that it could not understand. Because that was a power that was out of reach to such an existence like itself.

The fleeting thought ended once again. These thoughts had been coming and going more frequent as of late, but that did not stop it from performing its duties as usual. Another temple destroyed, another nobility wiped to its roots, but its worshippers were not sated. Blood was like its coat of arms, the amount it had shed would be enough to dye an entire army in red. But like the passage of time, lost lives were simply buried away under brown soil. But unlike the tides of time, the desires of its worshippers were unending, unceasing.

Luther, the God Killer, the executioner of Fate, please help me...

Those who oppress us, those who think of us like mere ants to squash... they deserve to die!

I want to watch it all burn in flames... only then will the souls of my family be able to rest in peace...!

The worshippers would sometimes grow uncontrollable, like now, to the point that they themselves might start pouring their hatred onto the world. It was then that their leader would show up to settle them down.

Its name was given to it by the leader as well. It remembered, before its awakening, that the leader would say next to the coffin where it used to lie.

— The Goddess dreams... she always dreams of unattainable fates... in which lies her true downfall.

— He shall be created to become her weakness, he shall be the one to lead her to her true death... as his predecessor has been created to do so.

Like a storyteller, like a bard singing an age-old song, that was the way the leader used to say these verses next to the coffin as if weaving a story into life. There were all sorts of humans within the worshippers, but they all fell silence when the leader took the podium.

This time was no different as well. The leader told them that the ripe time for permanent change was close, and they must all preserve their strength for the moment they had been preparing for. Death and destruction, to pave the way for more death and destruction, until a new world without nobles and temples would rise from the ashes. The eyes of the worshippers grew wild with glee, consumed by a feral joy that was more beastly than human. But the leader’s speech did not end there.

A human, dressed in slightly more elaborate worshipper’s garbs, walked to stand next to the leader. With its eyesight, it could see a young woman with light brown hair and chestnut eyes, an expression of grim determination as shadow cast over her small face.

The leader spoke, a story once again being told.

— You all have met Leila. She was an innocent child who fell in love with someone she shouldn’t have, and dreamed of something that was out of her reach. And so, Fate punished her.

— Framed for a crime she never committed, beaten by ridicule from the ignorant people... she escaped death, and the innocent child was no more. But her dream, her desired fate, has not ended yet.

— Soldiers, brave warriors of Liberatia. Listen well, and do not forget.

— Everyone here, each of you have a fate that you desire, but was stopped from yearning for it “because it’s not meant to be”.

The worshippers were silent, but their bodies were taut like the words had reminded them of a memory they had wanted to forget. The leader continued, almost uncaringly so.

— Just accept it, it’s your fate in life.

— Don’t weep, they died because that was their fate.

— That is not your fate. Give up.

There were sounds of gritted teeth, of clothes being gripped so harshly the fabric seemed like it would permanently crease. Then, just like a stone dropped in still water, the voice of the girl next to the leader rose up.

— I REFUSE!

Almost like a yell, a cry for injustice, or simply the protest of a child being denied of its wish. But unlike the child, which could only cry and beg for the mercy of others, the girl’s eyes were filled with a resolve to do anything and everything. That was to be expected in order to proclaim something like fighting against Fate itself.

The worshippers cheered as the the young woman finished her speech, and the leader announced that Leila would be receiving direct orders from the leader to coordinate the group closer to the day of uprising. The mention of the plan brought the excitement of the group to another level, and Leila herself had fire in her eyes. Her gaze, along with everyone else’s except the leader’s, unerringly turned to one direction - towards “it”.

It was used to having fervent looks sent its way, but the look on the girl called Leila left it to wonder what had happened for a young human to have such a gaze of unbridled resolve.

It soon found out that Leila was a lot more indescribable than it had originally thought. A lot of its worshippers had intense hatred for the snobbish nobility or heartless temple people, but it had yet to meet a human who was more passionate about love than Leila. This love thing captured its interest, simply because of how much Leila was talking, thinking, obsessing about it.

It was also the first time someone had made it aware of the fact that it looked like a male human, so it should refer to itself as “he”.

It... he could remember when Leila stood close to him, unlike other worshippers who were content with looking and bowing to him from afar. There was a bit of worship in her gaze, but he felt that it was of a different nature from that of his worshippers. The way her gaze roamed over his armored body and face gave him a feeling so indescribable, for the first time since awakening he felt the need to withdraw from a human.

— Luther the executioner... why do you have to look so handsome?

As far as he could tell, good looks was a valuable traits among humans so her frustration was a mystery to him. He did not give a reply, and she did not seem to expect one either as she continued.

— Why do you have to look so similar to my beloved Prince?