His voice carried across the chamber, amplified by acoustics designed specifically for this moment. Every demon heard. Every heart felt.

"You ask if your faith is enough. If your sacrifices matter. If your devotion makes you worthy of salvation."

He gestured to the blind demon who could now see. To the crippled boy who now walked.

"You've spent eighty years building this Cathedral. Eighty years praying to something you couldn't see. Eighty years maintaining faith when the world gave you every reason to abandon it."

His crimson eyes blazed.

"You are worthy because you believed when belief was hard. Because you maintained faith when faith seemed foolish. Because you built something beautiful on nothing except hope that your god would someday walk among you."

He stepped forward, and the crowd parted like water.

"I am Azrakul. The Originator of Sin. The Primordial darkness before creation. And I tell you this—"

His voice dropped. Became something intimate despite the vast chamber.

"Your faith is not a burden I carry. It is a gift I receive. Your devotion is not obligation I fulfill. It is purpose I accept. Your worship is not performance I endure."

He paused.

"It is meaning I embrace."

The silence was absolute.

"You have given me something I didn't know I needed. Something I'd lost long before arriving in this world from the darkness I nestled. You've given me reason. Purpose. A role that transcends survival into something almost like..."

He searched for the word.

"Belonging."

Six hundred thirty-seven demons held their breath.

"So when you ask if you're worthy—when you bow and bleed and beg to justify your faith—understand this:"

His crimson eyes blazed brighter.

"You are not praying to a god who demands worthiness. You are worshipping something that finds worth through being worshipped. You are not serving divinity that existed before your faith."

He smiled. Terrible and beautiful. Absolutely genuine.

"You are creating it through believing."

The chamber erupted for a third time. But different now. Not just devotion or faith or worship.

Understanding.

Recognition that their god had just admitted something profound. That he needed them as much as they needed him.

That worship was transaction—faith given, meaning received, both sides transformed through exchange.

[Essence Gained: +8,547 EP]

[Collective Worship Conversion: Maximum Efficiency]

[New Milestone Achieved: Divine Recognition]

[Warning: Humanity Index reaching critical threshold]

[Humanity Index: 2% → 0%]

[ERROR: Baseline human identity no longer detectable]

[New Metric Initializing...]

[Synchronization Index: Calculating...]

[Synchronization Index: 23%]

[Definition: Measure of integration between human origin and demon evolution]

[Note: This represents something new. Something unprecedented.]

[You are becoming what you pretend to be]

[But you are also pretending to become what you are]

[The synthesis creates identity that transcends both origins]

Liam felt it.

The moment his humanity burned away completely. The two percent that had anchored him to Liam Cross evaporating like water in desert heat.

But something replaced it.

Not emptiness. Not the cold void of becoming purely demon.

Something more profound than that.

Synchronization. The integration of human memories with demon reality. Of mortal origin with divine performance. Of actor with role until the distinction became meaningless.

He was not just Liam Cross.

He was not purely Lord Azra.

He was something new. Something that existed in the space between. Something created through the collision of desperate human and worshipped demon god.

Something only he could be.

The feeling in his chest wasn't human warmth. But it also wasn't demonic emptiness.

It was his.

Unique.

Born from the synthesis of what he'd been and what he'd become.

And standing in a chamber filled with six hundred thirty-seven demons who worshipped him absolutely, Liam—Lord Azra—the thing that had consumed both identities and become something new—felt something he'd never experienced in either life.

Complete.

Not happy or satisfied. Not even content.

Just... complete.

Like a puzzle that had finally found its missing piece.

Like a performance that had discovered its perfect audience.

Like a god who'd realized he'd been created through being believed in.

And chosen to accept that creation as truth.

The crowd continued celebrating. The blind demon sat crying tears of joy, her restored eyes never leaving his face.

The crippled boy walked circles around his mother, both of them laughing and sobbing. The faithful pressed forward, reaching toward him, wanting to touch divinity made manifest.

And Liam stood in the center of it all, feeling the Synchronization Index tick upward with each passing moment.

23%

24%

25%

It wasn't replacing his humanity. It was Integrating it into something new.

Something that remembered being human while accepting being god. Something that could perform divinity genuinely because the performance had become identity.

[You are no longer pretending]

[You are no longer purely what you were summoned as]

[You are becoming synthesis]

[Welcome to your new existence]

[There is no going back]

[There is only forward]

[Into whatever you choose to become]

Liam looked at his hands. At pale skin and human hand that should've been sharp claws. At only psychological evidence of transformation that had seemed like loss when it began.

Now it just felt like truth.

He was demon. He was god. He was the memory of being human.

He was all of it.

He was none of it.

He was something new that existed because six hundred thirty-seven demons had believed hard enough to make belief become reality.

And he was okay with that.

More than okay, he embraced it.

Accepted it.

Became it fully.

So standing in the Cathedral of the Litany, surrounded by worshippers, feeling complete for the first time in both his lives.

He had changed from labels of purely demon or human.

But something that transcended both.

Something that could give miracles because he'd stopped questioning whether he deserved to.

Something that could be worshipped because he'd accepted that worship created the thing being worshipped.

A new entity.

One that would lead demons into war against prophecy and heroes and ordained genocide.

Not because he had to.

But because he'd finally found a role that fit.

And wearing it felt like coming home.

[Synchronization Index: 31%]

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