Chapter 266 – Martyr
Zain el-Rasul felt the power flowing through him as he spoke to the crowd at the Martyr’s Memorial. The ritual was working; he could feel it in his bones. He would call all those chosen by Allah and bind them to the Great Work. Together, they would bring the entire world into unity. All lands, all peoples, united under the Word of God and serving His will. As it always should have been.
He knew that such things had been tried before, and they had failed. But they had failed because of mortal failings, and because there had been no way to truly ensure that the true believers got what they deserved. Charlatans, false prophets, and wicked men who used the faithful to pursue their own mortal desires had made mockery of faith. Not just Islam, but all the faiths. They had all been brought low by scandals and the wickedness of those who were supposed to be doing God’s Will. Not one had been spared. Not one had remained pure.
Before the System, he had long struggled with these thoughts. About how the wickedness of mortal men had ruined so much. Not just in the ways they turned the faith against what it was supposed to mean, which was bad enough. No, what was worse was that their wickedness burned those around them, and they, having been burned, shied away from the fire’s warmth, not trusting that they would not be burned again. And they passed that fear and distrust on to those they met. The worst thing to ever happen to the Faith was the mortals who rose to lead it, that much was clear.
But what could be done? In this mortal world, where there were no divine messengers, no angels of light descending to spread the word directly? If all they had to rely on was mortals, how could they bring the Faith back to its true path, and ensure that those who had been wounded and jaded by the false faithful were brought back to the light? He had never found an answer, not until the System came.
In those first moments, he had been reborn in light. Three boons had been offered to him. He chose [Third-Tier Race], [Prophecy], and [Purity]. He had been reborn as a Greater Angel, blessed with two pairs of white, feathered wings and an aura of golden light. [Purity] had made him immune to any mental influence, as well as all poisons and diseases. But [Prophecy]? That had granted him the Seer title, and the Blessed Diviner profession, a Tier 2 version of that profession!
Zain knew, then, that he had been chosen by Allah. With his ability to see the future, he had helped protect his home of Adayah, a little village at the crossing of two roads through the desert, roughly forty kilometers from the outskirts of Mosul. Before the knowledge of how to create wards to protect villages and towns had been shared, he had led his people, and used the gift of his prophecy to see where the dangers lay, and helped them to strike down the monsters whilst they were sleeping in their dens, before they could rise and strike at the faithful and the innocent.
In those days, he had been both a Priest and a Diviner. He had spread the Word, and used the light he was made of to heal those around him, protecting them and guiding them. However, he knew that he would not always be there for his village, for he had foreseen that he would be traveling in the future. He did not let them rely on him alone, but encouraged them to learn and grow, so that, when he was called elsewhere, they would be able to stand on their own, and to bring the light and the word to others, as he had done for them.
And it was his gift of prophecy that led him to find the secret path in the dungeon. The Nur Alsama’ dungeon, or Light of Heaven, as it was in English, was a dungeon steeped in the faith, where the challenges were not always those of steel against monster’s fangs and claws, or tricks and traps set up to cull those fools who did not show respect to the dungeon, but rather trials of faith, ensuring that those who made it to the end were worthy of the rewards offered, and the blessings that came with them. He had gone to the dungeon several times, as part of a group, in order to prove his faith, and to gain levels, as the stronger he was under the System, the more people he could help. This time, however, his prophecies told him he must go alone.
On the third floor of the dungeon, he found a door that he had never seen before, and his [Diviner’s Sense] skill urged him to take that path. Following his magically enhanced instincts, he stepped through the door, and found all-new challenges awaiting him. Tests of faith that tried to sway his certainty and shake his true belief. Tests that he passed, one after the other, emerging from each trial with greater faith than before.
Finally, he passed through a wall of flames, trusting in the light he was made of to protect him, and his faith to shield him. The flames did not touch him, for he had proven true. And so, he emerged from the fire, and found himself in a simple room, where a pillar of golden light descended from the ceiling.
Suspended in that light was a staff. At first glance, it appeared to be a simple shepherd’s crook to guide the faithful. But then it looked to be a mighty spear, with a blade of golden light to strike the enemies of Allah. Then it was a sturdy staff with iron bindings, suitable to both attack the unworthy and defend the innocent. Then, it was a scythe, with a blade of light and shadow, to reap the fruits of the harvest and the souls of the nonbelievers. He knew, somehow, that it was all of these things, and none of them, and more besides.
He reached out to the light, and it burned him, like touching an open flame. One final test, to prove his faith. He stepped fully into the pillar of light, trusting in the Will of God, and grabbed the staff. The light did not burn his flesh, but it seared his very soul. He could feel himself being remade, reborn once again. He welcomed the pain, as he shed what was left of his mortal impurities, his mortal failings.
Zain el-Rasul
Al-Masih
Level 25 Divine Messenger / Blessed Diviner
Titles: Devout, Seer, Pure Soul, Reforged Soul, Unique, Ritualist
The light changed him. No longer a Greater Angel, though he kept his wings. He was a unique being, blessed with the Mantle of Al-Masih, greatest of the prophets in the Holy Quran, save only the Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him. He knew, now, what his fate, his mission, was. He had been called to unite the world! For though this was a time of darkness and despair, it was also a time of hope. Though the System’s coming had caused great death and destruction, it had also thrown open doors that were long thought impossible to unseal. No longer was power confined to the few who controlled empires of business or the armies of man! Now, all who strove to change things could gain the power they needed to improve the world around them. They just needed the proper guidance to ensure that they remained on the path of righteousness.
The first step, of course, was to gather those others who had been blessed by Allah and given status above all others, with the ability to lead the masses, and bring forth salvation. It did not matter if they were of the faith or not. He was the Al-Masih, and he would see to it that the scales fell from their eyes, and they would know the truth. They would be purified, and their new faith would light the way for all others.
He had cast his divinations, and knew that there were seven others who had been blessed, as he was blessed. He could not see their exact positions, or know their names, for the System did not show others that kind of information unless they had more to work with, to force a stronger connection, but he could sense the name of their Mantles. And so, it did not matter if they could not all be seen directly. He knew that the ritual would work on at least some of them.
When he first began the rite of calling, he could feel that six of the seven were touched by the magic. The last, the Red Baron, felt too far out of reach. Not on Earth. Which meant that it was almost certain that one was with that great demon who ruled Ceres, and was now encroaching upon Earth once more, in South America. He would have to deal with that one, and their dark master, later on, once the rest of Earth had been brought into peace.
However, just because the call went out, did not mean that all was well. Three had shaken off the magic, throwing off the compulsion to gather, and be converted. They were the Fool, the Great Sage, and Baba Yaga. A fourth, the White Queen, was attempting to throw off the spell. But she was still here, inside his circle, as the belief of those around him was focused into the four beings bound in silver chains of light.
The Heroine, the Slayer, the Black Knight, and the White Queen. With those four turned to the righteous path, they could easily begin the march on the world, bringing the light of truth and the promise of peace to all peoples. He could work on drawing in the others blessed by Mantles, once he started getting the rest of the world under control.
“Y-you’re not going to get away with this! I’m a sitting US Congresswoman! You think they’ll let you live, if they see you’re blatantly using mind control on major leaders?” The White Queen snarled at him, as her magic worked to keep her impure and mortal mind from being cleansed and made anew. And, because of the Slave Collar upon the Black Knight, it did not matter if the Knight was cleansed or not, if his Mistress remained impure.
Zain sighed. “Such concerns are of mortal nature, filled with mortal fears, mortal doubts, and mortal weakness. It is time for you to shed such mortal impurities, and be reborn again as a being of faith, to lead this flawed and mortal world into salvation. This is why you, and the others, have been blessed by the Mantles and the System. You just need to be made to see things, as I have seen them, and then you will understand.”
The White Queen spat at him. “Fucking religious nutjob. As if the world wasn’t fucked enough already. I’d hoped most of the insane zealots would have died by now. You really are pathetic, you know that? All the subtlety of a howitzer firing in enclosed spaces.”
“It does not matter. You cannot stop the Al-Masih, and you cannot delay your conversion. Soon, all your concerns about all those secret allies, friends, and paws will fade away, and all that you will know, or care about, is the proper way to serve the Will of God.”
Whatever words the White Queen may have been about to say, Zain el-Rasul never heard them. Or anything else, ever again. One moment, he was allowing the ritual to consume the blessed, and purify them, and the next, there was pain in his back, just to the left of his spine, and then…
The spray of blood and viscera caused by monofilament wires writhing about in someone like the most horrific blender imaginable covered the four trapped Mantle-bearers. The chains of light shattered, the ritual’s caster dead. The ‘cleansing’ faded away, leaving the four in the state they had been in before, as the spell had not yet been completed fully. That was the way of such magics.
And, standing there, without a drop of blood on him, was a man dressed in a garish mix of purple and cyan checkered clothes and leather armor, with a mask emblazoned with a vicious smile on his face. On one arm, he had a wrist-mounted device, with a long, spout which looked like a proboscis, of all things. On the other arm was another wrist-mounted device, which looked to be some kind of alien projector. When he spoke, there was the magic of a Mantle in his voice, and everyone understood it in their native tongue.
“Right, that’s enough of that, I think.”