After casually eliminating the few remaining stubborn fools who refused to submit, Orsaga turned to the young priest and issued his first command:
"I want you to write a holy scripture—to spread my faith."
"...Huh?"
The young priest was visibly stunned.
After all, for any religion, the sacred text is the cornerstone. Compiling, editing, annotating… Even at minimum, it takes years—decades—to complete such a monumental task.
He never imagined Orsaga would start off by dropping such a responsibility on him.
What was even worse—he knew almost nothing about Orsaga. Not his doctrine, not his miracles, not even a proper name to worship!
How the hell was he supposed to write that?
Panic overtook despair as he hurriedly said, "My lord… I—I don't even know your divine title!"
At that, Orsaga frowned slightly.
"Oh, right... I suppose a god does need a divine title..."
As someone notoriously bad at naming things, he immediately fell into deep thought.
"...???"
The young priest was now truly beginning to doubt everything.
The being before him didn't even have a name?
Was this really a god?
Even false Gods from cults at least pretended to have some proper structure. This… This felt way too improvised.
But he dared not question it aloud. He simply stayed on his knees, face full of unease, waiting quietly as Orsaga wrestled with his own indecision.
'What kind of divine name would sound cool...?'
After a solid three minutes of deliberation, Orsaga finally clapped his hands and declared with pride:
"My body is crimson, and I enjoy slaughter. Since I'm now the king—and the god—of this planet, my divine title needs to reflect a sense of dominion and sovereignty!."
"So... either The Crimson King or The Bloody King. Take your pick. Both work."
Hiss—
The priest sucked in a breath.
That flippant tone—it was just too much. He had never heard of a God choosing their title so casually. This was something that shaped an entire belief system!
Trying to remain respectful, he awkwardly licked his lips and asked again:
"Then, my Lord… do you have any guidelines for the holy text? I mean… how do you want your powers and legends to be described? Should the tone be about light, greatness, divine authority, war…?"
"Eh, do whatever you want. I'm a dark god anyway. Doesn't matter to me."
That answer left everyone present feeling like they had just taken a punch to the gut.
This was indeed a dark god—through and through.
No rules, no decorum, no divine process. Just pure chaos.
Then, with a casual gesture, Orsaga pointed to the side—
And a towering crimson statue, over ten meters tall, materialized in the ruins. It depicted Orsaga's true form—though the patterns on the statue were slightly different from reality.
Had it been 100% accurate, the sheer presence would've driven everyone nearby mad on the spot.
With the power levels of those present, at least half of them would have lost their minds instantly.
"This is what I truly look like. Use this as your reference, but don't be too rigid with it. I may change again in a few years…"
As they stared at the suddenly manifest statue, everyone instinctively nodded.
'Yep. Definitely a dark god…'
Orsaga's true form looked like something straight out of a villain's biography. There was no way anyone would ever mistake him for a benevolent God.
Any remaining hope in their hearts crumbled completely.
To believe in this being… What kind of afterlife could possibly await?
Surely, it could only be hell.
But Orsaga didn't care about their thoughts. After finishing his arrangements, he turned and left without another word.
Leaving them there, lost in mutual silence.
A few minutes passed.
Finally, the young priest—now designated by Orsaga as the new Pope—sighed and said, "Let's gather everyone together…"
Those around him, still dazed and uncertain, hesitated at first. But slowly, one by one, they began to follow.
After kneeling once, their pride had already been shattered. They had begun to learn the art of submission.
Only a few individuals still harbored hatred in their eyes.
They loathed Orsaga.
But they loathed the traitors even more.
And deep in their hearts, they began to ponder how they might one day take revenge.
---
Twenty Days Later
Every major power across the entire planet had been completely wiped out by Orsaga.
Thousands of Towers of Temptation had already been constructed—and more were being built continuously.
Sky, land, and sea—
All of it was slowly being enveloped by a strange, omnipresent energy field.
---
Another Ten Days Later
Inside a massive palace—
Countless dancers swayed gracefully to the music, performing with elegance and perfection.
Each one of them was an extraordinarily beautiful woman.
The most exquisite delicacies and priceless treasures lay scattered around the hall like grains of sand—casually discarded in every corner.
Because the being seated upon the central throne—
Was the very axis of this world.
All that was finest, all that was worthy, existed solely to be offered here.
Just then, a figure stepped into the hall.
He fell to one knee before the throne, speaking respectfully to the man who sat with his chin resting on one hand:
"My Lord, everything has been prepared."
It was the same young priest—now fully transformed into the Pope chosen by Orsaga.
Gone was the fear and confusion from a month ago. His expression now radiated only resolve and devotion.
He had become a zealot—a devout follower of Orsaga.
Orsaga rose from his throne slowly and spoke in a calm, steady voice:
"Then let us begin. From this moment forward, only the language and script I have created may be used on this planet. Culture, tradition, religion, knowledge. Everything from the past is to be erased."
"All truths, all laws—from now on, they begin with me and end with me!
You are to worship me alone, and fear me alone!
I shall be this world's first—and final—God!
No one shall walk before me, and no one shall follow after!"
His voice, carried by divine will, transcended time and space.
In an instant, it reached every corner of the world.
And every living being who heard it—regardless of species or intellect—instinctively lowered their heads.
They knew, without needing to understand, that this was the supreme being.
With Orsaga's command, the countless Towers of Temptation across the globe were activated all at once.
A grand ritual—based on a modified Transfiguration Spell—began to unfold.
Its effect spanned the entire planet.
The thoughts and beliefs of every living thing were altered.
All existing history was revised and deleted.
Even the physical composition of the planet itself was forcibly rewritten by Orsaga's unimaginable power.
The material age of the planet—reset to zero.
From 4.6 billion years old to freshly born.
It was as if the world had just been created.
Orsaga had given it a brand-new beginning.
---
As the people across the world fell into a deep sleep from the ritual, only one person remained unaffected—Penelope, the Saintess of the Crimson Hour Church.
She couldn't help but ask curiously:
"Does any of this... have a point?"
Orsaga answered her calmly:
"No need for a point. I want it this way. So it must be this way. From this day forth—this shall be my Divine Kingdom on Earth."
Penelope sighed and replied helplessly:
"What a willful god… and what a willful answer. But your will… cannot be defied."
_____
T/N:
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