Rats began scurrying, alerting the village of the rise of the sun. Well, calling it a village was an overstatement. It was more of a collection of tents and hastily constructed buildings, a camp really.

One of the denizens woke up, rubbing his eyes. Once adjusted, all they saw was a small tent with nothing but cloth to keep it insulated. The man sighed regretfully. Well, this situation was partly his fault, wasn't it? Only a complete and utter idiot would desert the Tyrant's Army. Yet that was what he did and he was now paying the price. His wife, likely whoring herself out to survive. His child, definitely dead. And he was now living in a shitty refuge camp.

Yet even with all this, he wasn't entirely saddened by what he'd done. A small part of him felt relief knowing he wouldn't have to March to war on the orders of the Tyrant ever again.

He sighed once more. Well, all of that was behind him so he might as well focus on the present. He got up and walked out of his tent before feeling something barrel into him. If it wasn't for the hellish training he endured during his service, he would've fallen clean onto his ass.

Immediately, a fire ignited in his heart. Even a fallen dragon was still a dragon. He wouldn't let himself be played around with by any random bum in this shithole.

Realizing the target of his fury was now on the ground, he looked down only to see the most beautiful boy- the most beautiful human being he'd ever seen.

His short brown hair perfectly framed his gaunt face. His eyebrows were a very rich dark brown while his large black eyes told stories about the beautiful suffering he'd gone through. His nose was a bit small though this contrasted with his full lips.

His dirt and dust caked shirt and shorts, or at least what was left of them, barely covered his scrawny frame. The man didn't really know if it was just some sick lustful perversion or truly the love one felt when seeing a deity's appearance.

Before he could say and do or anything, he heard shouting, looking over to see two men in leather armor running towards the two of them. He looked back down to see the boy scrambling to get up and run.

"Stop him!" The men shouted at him.

The man only stared at the beautiful boy as he ran. He only turned back around when the sound of footsteps became louder behind him. One of the armored men kept running while the other stopped in front of the former soldier.

"Your name?" His words were hurried, both from lack of breath and anger that his quarry could've been captured so easily right then and there.

Solely out of habit, the man answered. "Dogagt." Immediately after answering, he froze up. Clearly, these were police. While this refuge camp was dirty and poor, it didn't mean there was no order. If Dogagt got found out here, he'd be dead. Sure he could escape this place but then what?

Luckily the man didn't seem to care and solely kept his name and appearance in mind before running after the boy.

Dogagt would've gone to get his supply of food from the communal farm but he wanted to see what was going on. He began walking in the direction that the man ran in, so as to not alert his suspicion again.

As he followed, he noticed the rest of the village waking up and getting out of their tents. Hearing louder shouting, he ignored their annoyed and inquisitive glances, and began to run. It didn't take him long before he realized that he was running towards the center of the village.

He stopped, staring at the communal area before him.

A crowd had built up and watched as the tribal police manhandled the boy. Another two had come to help and held the boy down.

"Wha- Khuggi!"

Dogagt turned to see a girl about the same age as the boy rushing towards the police. One of them simply got up and slapped her, sending her falling down hard. The boy watched it all in silence.

The policeman who had slapped the girl cleared his throat before issuing a proclamation.

"This boy is guilty of stealing from the temples of Bolhakda. He thought he could escape from the mighty power of Gulam. He was wrong. Let this serve as a lesson to all of you. All of your lives rest under the foot of Gulam. Do not disrespect him, his people or the gods they serve."

He, then, turned back to the boy.

"He used his hands to steal and his feet to run from Gulam. Cut all of them off."

The policemen holding the boy down nodded and one of them pulled out a knife.

"Khuggi! Stop them!" The girl could only yell at the crowd before the policeman who issued the proclamation slapped her once more.

The crowd only watched. It wasn't for lack of care. All of them knew the girl and boy. The duo frequently went out and came back with things to feed the community. They all knew what the two of them were doing and they loved them for that.

Still, to directly go against the Tyrant Gulam would be suicide. The entire village would be wiped out. In fact, any minor aristocrat could levy an army and destroy them. Killing even these four policemen would result in an investigation that they could not hide from. So they all watched, waiting for a divine intervention.

The boy did not react at the first hand was disembodied, only watching, as his blood began to pour out. The next hand went and his fair skin began to pale. His left foot went and he closed his eyes, not sparing a look at the girl who stared in horror at him from the floor.

After the right foot went, the policeman who made the initial proclamation turned back around to face the crowd.

"Someone bring fire so we can burn his wounds close. He will die without it."

Not a single soul moved. They all stared at the man in hatred. He would die without it? Well, so be it. How would it be any worse than living his life as a cripple, no hands to grab, touch and feel, and no feet to walk.

The policeman shrugged before nodding at the rest to walk away from the boy. He, then, began walking through the crowd, as they made way for him and his men.

Suddenly, he heard a shout.

"He's moving!"

At first, it didn't make sense to him. Well of course, he was moving. How else would he go about his day? However, it clicked quickly enough.

He turned back to see the hands and feet of the boy reform. Everyone saw it. The boy's carpals sprouted out of his arms, growing into a full fledged appendage that was swiftly covered by muscle, various tissues and skin. The same thing happened to his feet.

Slowly, the boy got up, looking at the crowd before focusing in on the policemen.

"You- you said that I disrespected the people of Gulam. Isn't everyone here a person of Gulam? Because, you know, otherwise, you would be marching into a foreign land of foreign people and you would be demanding of them one of their citizens be punished by your crimes. So whose land do we sit on?"

They all stared at him, still shocked at the resurrection of the boy they thought was dead, for sure.

"I can answer that for you. You all sit on my land. This is the land of I, Khumernai. You have all trespassed on the land of a god. Stealing from a temple? What did I steal that I do not already have? The balls you have to accuse me of such."

The crowd still stared at him, their expressions shifting from shock to reverence.

"You all sit on my land. You are all my citizens. You have seen what I have done. The food I have given all of you, the water, it allows you to do the same. Those that dared to attempt to kill me on my land must be killed as well, correct? Kill them as they stand between you. Render upon them the same fate they wanted to give me."

They obeyed.

Lucas watched as the crowd set upon the four men. It was always a weird feeling to watch an old video of yourself, especially if that wasn't entirely you.

Now that he was rewatching all of it, all the memories set back into his mind. He remembered the shock at being reincarnated into a fully dead body. It was a rarity. He remembered thinking he'd had the crowd under his heel.

Of course, he was wrong. Though the crowd obeyed him, none of them truly believed his words. They were all bullshit. If he was a god, then why were they all in this situation? What really made them kill the policemen was the presence his natural beauty gave him combined with the shock from his resurrection. Their hate of the policemen also did wonders.

The problem, though, was that this was temporary. Once the shock wore off and they all realized what they'd done, they'd immediately tried to sell him off and appease Gulam.

His friend, the girl who yelled the nickname she fashioned for him, had defended him and as such, was part of the offer to Gulam. Gulam accepted the offer before sending his army to massacre the entire refuge camp and burn it to the ground. The two of them were, then, separated.

For years, Lucas had lived as a male concubine of the Tyrant Gulam, slowly working his way up in the ruler's favor. Of course, Lucas hadn't been doing this because he liked the man. With each time he was called to please Gulam, his hatred increased tenfold.

He had to get the man to trust him. It took three years of fighting with his female counterparts, and several "favors" for him to grow a sizable faction of his own, with Gulam's own brother as Lucas' ally.

That was when he met Altaniama, his old friend. She'd been going through the same things as him but since Gulam hadn't wanted her, she'd gone to a relatively powerful aristocrat under the Tyrant.

By the time they met, she'd managed to wrest control of the aristocrat's land, essentially making him a puppet. Once they met, they teamed up to rebel against the Tyrant. It'd only barely succeeded.

Yet even that alliance failed. It turned out Altaniama blamed him for the pain she suffered. And who could blame her for thinking that way? Had he died, the village wouldn't have been destroyed and she wouldn't have become a glorified slut.

As such, while Lucas had been thinking of taking down Gulam and then helping to reform the nation, his childhood friend had only thought of killing him and seizing power for herself.

It took the lives of tens of thousands, but Lucas, or rather, Khumernai, became the new Tyrant.