A man stood at the edge of a broken stage—his brown cloak catching the wind, patched with strokes of black and gold. Beneath the open sky, surrounded by ash and whispers, he looked more myth than man. The inside of his hood shimmered red, as if dipped in forgotten blood.
He stood before the crowd—not noble, not royal, yet commanding more attention than a thousand kings.
And he spoke.
"Even now, I remember… when I first came here.
But the truth is… I don't even know what I am."
His eyes scanned the crowd—commoners, exiles, workers, children.
"Was I reincarnated? Am I the original owner of this body? Or something else entirely? I don't know. Maybe I was born for this moment. Maybe I was dragged into it. Either way…"
He raised his voice.
"Knock knock. Mr. Paladin—your people need you again."
A silence fell like snow.
He smiled faintly.
"It's time."
"They say I'm like a priest of my own religion. But no god sits above me."
"I chose a different path—one no temple dares speak of. I don't give people faith. I give them control. And I take it back."
He turned slowly, arms spread wide.
"In my world… the Greeks once said: If you wish to control the people, give them food and entertainment.
But I say—what if you gave them that, and also manipulated their thoughts?"
"What if you trained them all… to fight?"
He paused.
"But if everything I've built becomes meaningless… if this rebellion fails… then what?"
He exhaled.
"Come. Let me show you a glimpse of manipulation."
The crowd leaned in, unsure why they listened—but unable to look away.
"The nobles never let you meet God."
"So you believed God gave them their wealth… their health… their happiness."
"And you believed you were born only to suffer."
"Tell me, were you right to believe that?"
A haunting silence fell.
He laughed—not mockingly, but truthfully.
"You fear God, don't you? Good."
He raised his hand.
"Then watch this—"
"I challenge God."
"I reject the rules you gave me."
"I defy the faith you left behind."
"God, you are nothing!"
He slammed his foot.
"If you truly exist… then strike me down."
A long pause. The wind passed. Nothing happened.
He turned again.
"SEE?"
"Nothing happened. You know why? Because God doesn't get angry at me."
"Because God is not only for nobles. He's for everyone."
"He's so kind… that even when we scream at Him… He stays silent."
Then came the final blow:
"You speak of wishes… but why should God grant yours?
Before you find your purpose, you must destroy everything that blocks your path.
Everything that stops you from becoming what you were meant to become."
"Because if you stay away from God—how will your wishes come true?"
"How will your hard work bloom?"
He took a breath—now roaring.
"So go. End this disease called inequality. End this false pride called nobility."
"And tell me now… were you born only to suffer?"
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" the crowd screamed.
He nodded.
"Exactly. You were born for karma. For greatness."
"Then go, Asgar! If you can do something great in this fight…"
"Then bring the revolution!"
In his mind, he smiled quietly.
"And in return… make me king."
He turned, walking away slowly as the crowd chanted behind him.
They didn't know what just hit them.
They didn't realize…
They were already his.
I didn't reach here directly...
The journey to this point was long.
Very long
To be continued…