The Unknown God.
A name steeped in heresy—at least, to anyone born in Soltheon.
They had all grown up with the same teachings.
The Goddess of Doom equals good.
The Unknown God equals evil.
Religious doctrine wasn't just belief—it was life. It shaped their daily rituals, their values, their judgment. And that's what made it one of the hardest chains to break.
Religion in any society was merely one instrument of control. Religion was the opium of the masses.
A structure designed to maintain order, giving hope and meaning even to something as meaningless as life.
For most of them, skepticism came naturally. But Damon? He was different. His parents had died too early for him to form a solid faith.
While he may say the name of the goddess or mutter prayers, he was not faithful. It was just a force of habit.
He was a heretic. An enemy of the temple.
Not by choice—but he was in too deep now. There was no going back.
The same couldn't be said for the others.
