Many Faced God, is that you?

{MC POV}

It probably has been a few years since I entered this mine. At first, I was too bored to do anything so I was going with the flow of things, getting captured as a slave and then being sent into the mines. But it seems like it'll be an interesting experience.

The Valyrian mines under the fourteen volcanoes were definitely as magnificent as I had read about them but I might have come around here a little too early. The grand Valyrian cities I had been expecting hadn't yet been completely built.

In hindsight, I should've waited for a few centuries before coming down here. But I just couldn't hold my excitement when I heard about the Valyrian dragon lords and their cities. Oh well, I'll just make the most out of it.

As expected, the condition of the slaves in the mines was terrible. Most of them were in the pits of despair but I did find a very interesting guy. He looked like he had resigned himself to fate just like the others around him but I knew.

I'd seen the spark in him flare up when he looked into my eyes. Taelar, he says his name is, I probably need time to get used to the Valyrian names. No matter if it was in Ulthos, Yi Ti, Dawn, Leng, or wherever, the names are always a struggle. It was the same back on earth though.

Even after hundreds of thousands of years, it feels really good to act pretentious and mysterious around new people. Answer their questions in cryptic non-answers and they will make up some elaborate shit in their heads. Works every time.

The dumbfounded face on the guy when he got out of my empathy magic and that wtf face after my cryptic answer to his 'what are you?' I almost laughed out loud. They all have similar reactions no matter the race.

Even the scary looking children of forests were the same. Oh, how I miss their brown poker face. Should probably go to Westeros to meet them again. Should also check out what new things the brat Bran had built. Smug bastard!

Anyway, the valyrian's are really milking every ounce of profit from these slaves. They don't even let them have any hope of escape. Just more material for their disgustingly crude blood magic I suppose.

Although I've seen far too much in my life to be agitated about the slaves and how they are treated, it still doesn't sit well with me to see a man struggling at death's door and not being able to go with dignity.

It might be whatever remains of my 'humanity' from back on earth. Although I have always been a man of questionable morals, I do have some basic principles. Like, don't stick your dick inside anything under 18 years of age. I just can't. And it's not like there is a shortage of places to stick it in that you have to seek kiddies. But I digress!

While sending the man off on his way to whatever he believed of the afterlife, I couldn't help but remember the famous Essosi words I loved back on earth 'Valar Morghulis'.

Damn, I loved the faceless men. I even created my own version of their face-changing technique. It was one of the most useful techniques in my long life. It gets hard to explain why you don't age to people around you when you have to do it over and over again.

Anyway, now here I am, teaching a new disciple of mine the art of assassination. I seem to remember that the faceless men started off within the valyrian mines, so am I going to be the originator of the cult of faceless men in this world?

It shouldn't be, right? I haven't taught him anything religious, I even specifically taught him not to. And I remember teaching other assassins in the distant past. Even in the now-ruined Asahi, I taught those few shadow binders.

I don't remember any house of black-and-white bullshit cropping up. Or maybe it did and I just don't know since nobody would put a bounty on me.

Urgh! I can't care even if I happen to have created the damned death cult. I threw any caution out the window way back when I decided to teach that piece of shit first disciple of mine.

The ungrateful bastard used his own teacher's blood to do the ritual to prolong his life. I wish I could punch him again! But it does make for a great story though. The shock on Taelar's face when I told him about his 'senior brothers' and some of my exploits was priceless.

I think I've become far too weird, or perverted was the word for it? The things that make me happy, the things that I find funny, and my pranks and jokes just seem to be getting more and more outlandish.

But again, I'm literally hundreds of times older than the fucking wall in Westeros. So it should already be a testament to my will and mental fortitude that I have my sanity. Or whatever remains of it anyway.

But I digress again, am I going senile? I'm currently looking at my 900th ?, 1000th? Whatever numbered disciple, as he is fumbling his way towards a slave mad with despair, waiting for the sweet release of death.

This is supposed to be my disciple's final test. I've already taught him most of what he needs to learn to kill his way out of here and survive as an assassin. As for magic, I could only teach him some basics. He just didn't have the talent.

For his final test, I've asked him to take the face of the dying guy squirming over there. This will be his first time going through the whole process by himself. After which I should probably leave this place. Nothing interesting around in a mine.

"Don't think too much, just do it cleanly just like I taught you. He will be your first face so make sure not to damage it though." I teased while instructing Taelar. He turned back to look at me.

Did this little shit just glare at me? I have repeatedly told him I am far older than I look but he still treats me as if I am some kid huh? Maybe getting closer and more familiar with me has taken the edge off the fear and respect he has for me. I should rectify it before I leave. Who knows if I will get to beat him up ever again?

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{Taelar POV}

It's been a while since I acknowledged Raven as my master. Although he tells me I have an atrociously low talent in magic, I seem to be improving on my assassination skills.

I can now change my face pretty well using the skins Raven made for me but I have yet to create one by myself. Today is supposed to be my first attempt.

I don't really know how to feel about Raven as my master but one thing I am sure of is that he is already a god in my and many others' hearts within these mines. Albeit me for different reasons than others.

In the many moons that followed that fateful day when I asked his help, Raven and I went around giving the gift of death to those who desperately prayed for it.

I haven't told Raven but for a while now, there have been some murmurs of a god in the mines who grants them the mercy of ending their suffering as long as they prayed for it. He really doesn't seem to like religion and faith, so I can't talk to him about it or he will just beat me up.

But from the stories he has told me, he is practically a god. He has lived for thousands of years, taught so many disciples, and helped build and topple so many kingdoms and empires. If someone heard it they might think him insane, but somehow I can't not believe those ludicrous stories.

What else would he be if not a god?

I can't help but glare at him as he teases me while I walk nervously towards yet another life waiting for the gift. The nervousness is not about the task at hand. As Raven, my master has taught me, death is no game and every assassination needs to be taken seriously, no matter what the situation.

My nervousness stems from the fact that I know that this is the last day I will spend with him. In all this time, I don't even know if I ever saw his real face, I don't think he will let me either. But he has already become an indispensable part of my life, my faith, and eventually my death.

As I calm down and try to replicate those haunting, graceful, actions of my master and give the man in my hands a merciful end to his suffering, I can't help but think about the future.

In honor of all the lives he has lived and the faces he has worn, I have decided that I will call him the many-faced god and make him the object of my faith. I will dedicate myself to his teachings and truly become faceless like him.

Since he hates all religions so much, he will be a god of no religion, he is just death itself in all the forms and faces one can imagine. That should do. He shouldn't dislike that, right?

As I finished the final steps of taking the guy's face for myself and looked back at the master, I froze. He was dissipating, literally dissipating. He really loves theatrics.

"You have learned all you can learn from me. Too bad your talent for magic is shitty, heh." I heard the ridicule and couldn't stop my smile. His twisted sense of humor and care never changes.

"Anyway, you probably guessed it but I'm leaving. Do whatever with my teachings. Live as you feel like it. But if you are to be an assassin be like the cool ones I told you stories about. Anyway, you are old and I'm far too old for sappy goodbyes. Take care little shit." Just as he finished speaking, I could feel a punch to my guts as I was sent flying.

While I fell on the ground, I caught the whisper of his voice in the air, "Valar Morghulis!"