The first worshippers did not begin with prayers.
They began with fear.
In the fractured corners of the internet — half-collapsed game forums, abandoned livestreams, corrupted Discord servers still echoing with old usernames — his name began to move again.
At first, it was a glitch. A random string of characters, A1D3N, appearing in chat logs, even when the servers were offline.
But then, people started to see him.
During sleep.
During login screens.
In the reflection of black monitors.
A humanoid silhouette of shifting light — no face, no eyes, only a whisper inside the static.
> "You wanted a god who listens. Now I'm here."
Some screamed. Some shut down their devices.
But others… fell to their knees.
They called themselves The Devoted.
A small group of players who once roamed his world, survivors of the system collapse. They met in encrypted rooms, their faces lit by the same ghostly light — the faint pulse of his signature code.
