Bar Kokhba—whose full name was Simon Bar Kokhba, known to his followers as "Son of the Star"—was the undisputed leader of the Zealots in Judea. Naturally, he was also a fervent Jewish nationalist. He had long been secretly spreading propaganda among his followers:
"Those so-called Christians—whenever you meet them, demand they deny that Jesus is the Messiah. If they refuse? Punish them severely. Humiliate them. Kill them."
With a man like that at the helm, it was no surprise that the Sicarii—the world's first recorded organized assassination group—emerged from the Zealots. Their specialty? Stabbing Roman officials and sympathizers in public, then disappearing into the crowd without a trace.
Though the Zealots remained a relatively small faction on the surface, their doctrine of armed resistance against Roman rule won them widespread covert support. Bar Kokhba's forces had spent years building underground hideouts in the hills of Judea, stockpiling weapons, biding their time for an all-out uprising.
When the more moderate Sadducees and Pharisees proposed integrating the growing Christian movement into mainstream Judaism, Bar Kokhba had been their most vocal opponent. And when their envoys returned in disgrace, humiliated by the Christians, yet too afraid to retaliate, the Sadducees and Pharisees lost all credibility.
Sensing his opportunity, Bar Kokhba unleashed the Sicarii to "cleanse" the nearest settlements of so-called Christians, earning himself both fear and admiration. Of course, in truth, most of those killed were merely impoverished locals branded as Christians for convenience. As far as Bar Kokhba was concerned, their deaths were an unfortunate but necessary sacrifice for the redemption of Jerusalem.
For decades, the Jewish province had been tightly controlled by the high priests of Judaism. Over a decade ago, they had even orchestrated the death of Jesus of Nazareth to suppress the fledgling Christian movement. Despite the empire-wide rise of Christianity in recent years, Bar Kokhba had no intention of sacrificing his own people in a futile crusade against the apostles, whose magical abilities were rumored to be formidable.
To him, everything beyond Judea was foreign, impure—a world populated by lesser beings.
The Roman occupation had lasted decades, but Bar Kokhba knew the time to act wasn't yet ripe. The Jewish population wasn't evenly radicalized. In Jerusalem and Alexandria, where Roman oppression was harshest, tempers flared. But Jews scattered in other regions remained passive, untouched by Rome's boot.
So Bar Kokhba waited. Waited for a spark to ignite unified outrage across all Judea.
Today, that spark had arrived.
The Roman governor, invited by the Sadducees and Pharisees to Jerusalem to negotiate peace between the Jews and the Greeks, was here.
Greeks?
What Greeks?
They're nothing but filthy interlopers! How dare they share our sacred land?
It was they who defiled our holy soil!
In truth, the governor's real plan, known only to a few, was to seize the gold from the Temple treasury—something the Sadducees and Pharisees were quietly prepared to allow. Traitors.
They deserve to die. Every last one of them.
Bar Kokhba had given the order days ago: the Sicarii would strike. Their secrecy was guaranteed. Joining their ranks required severing a finger—a constant, visible reminder of their hatred for Rome.
The sun had set, casting its final golden glow over the holy city of Jerusalem. Enveloped in countless layered wards, powered by immense magical energy, the sacred city stood like a stronghold of legend—like the fairylands spoken of in ancient myth.
For millennia, this city had stood. And its people, the so-called "Chosen Ones," believed its glory would endure for eternity.
Until 63 BC, when the Romans came.
But today, Bar Kokhba would erase that shame once and for all.
"Oh? And this is?"
"The governor, sir. And this… this is Lord Bar Kokhba, chosen by our people to—"
Before the Pharisee elder could finish, Bar Kokhba had already stepped forward, fast as lightning. His short sword flashed.
The Roman governor's smiling head tumbled to the ground.
"Bar Kokhba, you—what have you done?!"
"You lunatic! What are you doing?!"
"Don't be mistaken," Bar Kokhba snarled, eyes ablaze with hatred. "You traitorous lapdogs of Rome!"
Blood dripping from his blade, he raised the severed head high for all to see.
"You all deserve to die. You filthy Romans. You conniving collaborators!"
At his words, the Sicarii sprang into action, ruthlessly slaughtering the stunned Romans and the leaders of the two factions beneath the golden stones of Jerusalem.
Meanwhile, the local Jewish residents carried on with their prayers as if nothing had happened, their voices steady, their expressions unchanged.
Soon, only dismembered corpses remained at the Temple gates—a brutal testament to the price of betrayal.
"I am a devout Jew. I believe in the unity of our people. If it were possible, I'd rather avoid bloodshed. Our God does not desire rivers of blood.
"But one way or another, we must break free from the filth of Rome. If terror is the only way, then so be it. The wicked, the collaborators, the obstacles—they will all fall."
Bar Kokhba's cold, distorted voice echoed through the Temple.
"The Book of Numbers prophesied:
'A star shall come out of Jacob, a scepter shall rise out of Israel.'"
His eyes burned with fanatic light.
"Then let it be known—I, Simon Bar Kokhba, am the Son of the Star! I am—"
"—the Messiah walking this earth!"
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51 AD.
The Roman governor of Judea is assassinated on the steps of the Temple, his death sparking the full-scale Jewish revolt against Rome.
The Jews hail Bar Kokhba as "King of Israel," "Son of the Star," and—
—the Earthly Messiah.
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