Both Norse and Greek myths speak of gods of thunder.
In Norse tales, Thor is a god responsible for war and agriculture — a deity who guards the realm of the gods and watches over human fields. The Norse say that whenever thunder and rain roll in, the thunder god rides his chariot across the sky; hence he is called the "god of thunder."
Thor's bravery and prowess in battle were famed among the gods. His strength was immense, unmatched by almost any deity — a truly formidable god.
In Greek myth, Zeus is king of the gods, leader of the Twelve Olympians, the supreme ruler of the cosmos. Called "Father of gods and men," the "King of the Gods," he maintains order with bolts of lightning as his weapon.
Though these two thunder gods differ in some ways, Chen Mo matched nearly every attribute they were famed for.
He led them to victory in battle, introduced new agricultural tools and methods that brought abundant harvests, and wielded enormous strength and terrifying combat power. Most of all, they had witnessed him summon lightning from his hands — proof beyond doubt that he commanded thunder and lightning.
Rumors had long circled about Chen Mo's true nature. Now, in every knight's mind, his identity as a thunder god was settled.
Andrew, Amelia, Victor — all looked at Chen Mo with eyes filled with fervor. Doubt and hesitation vanished; what could prove a god's existence more than the miracle they had seen with their own eyes?
Their liege lord was a mighty, exalted thunder god. Were they not then the king's holy knights?
A rush of indescribable pride and glory swelled in them. One after another they dismounted, ignoring battle fatigue, and knelt before Chen Mo in pious reverence.
Chen Mo watched the sea of kneeling knights with a wry helplessness.
Was I destined to be a charlatan prophet?
In the Captain America world he'd stumbled into, Red Skull had already fashioned himself as HYDRA's "god," and the role had been ready-made when Chen Mo assumed the identity. He'd been lucky then — a convenient godpost to occupy. But here in the Underworld series, he hadn't planned on playing god again; he had no taste for it.
He didn't need to. His overwhelming strength and two years of careful planning had put him firmly in control of his power base. There was no need to manipulate minds with religion to secure loyalty. His men were loyal because he'd built them so.
What he needed now was waiting and searching, not sermons or altar cloths.
He'd only fired the energy pistols because he refused to lose half his elite forces. He never expected that this blue beam — the gun's discharge that instantly turned flesh to ash — would convince medieval knights that lightning itself had descended from the sky.
And so, by accident, Chen Mo was crowned the thunder god in their eyes.
Even if he denied it now, the knights would not believe him.
By fate's irony, he had once more become the center of a godlike myth.
After the knight order resumed its solemn march, the woods that had harbored werewolves stirred again.
A tall figure in a black robe stepped slowly from the trees. He looked down at the dozen or so werewolf corpses and the thin layer of ash covering the ground, his eyes wide with astonishment.
He had been hunting these werewolves, but had found them ambushing a powerful knight order.
Although this heavily armored order looked well-equipped and disciplined — clearly formidable — he, who knew werewolves better than most, recognized the slim odds these knights faced.
What happened next shattered everything he believed about the world. He had once thought himself one of the most unique beings here, perhaps even godlike.
But just now he had seen a true divine force: bolts from a man's hands that reduced werewolves to ash with ease. Under that power, even he would share the same end.
This was a genuine god.
His eyes, hidden beneath the black hood, flickered. After a long pause, he seemed to make a decision. He raised his head, watched the retreating knight column, then silently fell in behind them.
On the road ahead, Chen Mo rode his warhorse, hearing soft footsteps trailing him from afar. A slight smile curled at the corner of his mouth.
Finally, then.
…
News of Chen Mo's deeds spread rapidly across Blackstone Castle's domain — and beyond.
Mysterious. Mighty. He brought bountiful harvests; he brought peace. His sword could cleave iron gates; his hands could command lightning that consumed all werewolves.
Savage werewolves were nearly extinct on his lands; the days of wolfish terror seemed ended. He had become the hero in every vassal's heart, a long-awaited savior — and for many, a god to worship.
A tragic past, they believed, had been ended by him.
He led a powerful sacred knight order that would spread divine light across the continent, sheltering everyone beneath his protection.
The speed and fervor of the faith took Chen Mo by surprise. The belief had ignited too fast, too fiercely.
Many of his people already viewed him as a god — and with the knight order as witnesses, the miracle's truth was indisputable. Faith rooted itself quickly, and devotion followed.
Since belief had already come into being, Chen Mo saw no reason to suppress it. It didn't harm him; if anything, it strengthened cohesion within his domain and aided governance and development.
Of course, he intended appropriate oversight. He would not allow his people to be manipulated by those with ulterior motives.
Europe was mired in the dark, chaotic Middle Ages. Lords vied for power while royal authority waned; the Church rose in influence. Papal power, fueled by faith, began overshadowing kings and even influencing succession. The Inquisition and Crusaders — instruments of the Church's authority — struck fear across the continent, their reach surpassing many royal armies.
But their strength centered in Rome and the capitals of major kingdoms. Chen Mo's territory, though wide, lay on the fringes — little more than a backcountry. There were few churches, far from the Inquisition's grasp.
Under Chen Mo's influence, many local priests had already shifted their loyalties. Miracles nearby were more persuasive than distant dogma.
Chen Mo did not set out to found a church or issue holy doctrine. He had no intention of ruling through religiosity. He preferred the old way: give people something to believe in, let it settle in their hearts as solace and awe — not to brainwash them into fanaticism.
Faith was a subplot to his greater goals. He cared little for piety unless it furthered his plans: build the knight order, expand the lands — whatever served his true aim.
After weighing things and finding the faith harmless to his schemes, he let it be.
Three days after Chen Mo, Amelia and the others returned to Blackstone Castle, the man he had been waiting for finally arrived.
Standing before him now was a tall man. Chen Mo sat in his seat and spoke three simple syllables.
"Marcus."
The young-looking, handsome man standing below was none other than the first vampire in this world — Marcus.
Time had left no trace on Marcus' face. Centuries might have passed, yet he appeared no older than a man in his twenties. There was, however, a sharp, otherworldly light in his eyes that betrayed his extraordinary nature.
Hearing his name called plainly, Marcus froze. Only his sire — his father — should have known that name.
How did this mysterious lord know it? Was he truly omniscient — a god?
In the past days Marcus had tried to learn more about Chen Mo. The more he heard from the people, the more inscrutable Chen Mo seemed. Deep down, Marcus refused to believe Chen Mo a god. Perhaps, he thought, Chen Mo was merely another exceptional being like himself.
Whatever the truth, Marcus had resolved to meet him.
Marcus had long been searching for his twin brother, William, who had become a werewolf.
Since William's transformation, he had lost all reason and turned to slaughtering humans. Those bitten by him became werewolves in turn, spreading chaos across the world.
Marcus, a vampire, feared the daylight and could not move freely by day. William's pack always traveled with him, making it nearly impossible for Marcus to reclaim his brother.
Chen Mo's arrival, however, offered hope. Marcus intended to use Chen Mo's strength to help retrieve his brother — the progenitor of werewolves, William.