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... them to their knees, humiliated them!

The first of the unholy!" the leader of the smouldering heretics held a patchwork of a mask, its original colouring hard to gleam upon, charred black and molten, it did not appear to have any sort of feature, nothing at all, a blank slate for one to hide their true identity behind.

The man was holding it up like it was the most precious of artefacts, and of course, it was the only physical remnants of The Defiler Of The Holy, this object was ...

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The sky was painted gray forever. The light of the sun was restrained. The darkness of the night was deeper than ever. At such a time, he belonged to a class people didn’t even recognize as ’human’. He was at the bottom of the social stratum, a slave. And when his only family was taken away from him... he no longer had a purpose in life. Yet, he clung to life because of his promise. And he set an impossible goal for himself, just so he’d have an excuse to live. When he finally reached a place he never expected to be, in pursuit of a purpose he expected to fail and die miserably trying to fulfill... he awoke to a night that would change his entire life. He was an insignificant fly, a mere speck in the destruction of the Empire. But he... survived. And, despite being a slave, he gained the blessing of a king. Or rather, the curse...