The Genesis of the Dead
'What is my purpose?' He thought as he gazed at the carnage that surrounded him. With every step he takes countless perish, with every action countless mourn. Behind him legions so vast they cover the horizon and blot out the heavens. His soldiers, servants, friends, children. 'That's right.' He remembered with a tinge of melancholy, 'This is my purpose.' Author's note: High fantasy setting, with a heavy emphasis on action, army tactics, political schemes and world building. No harem and very little romance.
Chapter 41
"Believers in the Heavenly Mother?" Vithorian asked, his confusion apparent as he tried to decipher the man's bizarre words and peculiar manner of speaking.
"Makes sense you haven't seen them before. They usually only infest larger cities, like rats. Unfortunately, our city made the cut. If you want my advice, steer clear of them. Becoming a believer changes people," Finnick explained, his tone warning.
"What is the crux of their belief?" Maveth asked, intrigued by the strange group Finnick mentioned.
"They claim the holy Heavenly Mother is the origin of all other gods, and that by worshipping her, even in death, your soul will be saved and held in an embrace like a mother's. Blah, blah, blah. Complete nonsense, if you ask me. A bunch of fools. Trust me, don't get involved with them or their opposition unless you're looking for headaches," Finnick elaborated with a dismissive wave of his hand, clearly unamused by the subject.