My name is Shen Ye. I’m a butcher.
Three years ago, a god descended upon the imperial capital and slapped a hundred thousand people to death. That blow swept past my family’s butcher shop, vaporizing my parents and half the street.
The god said, “Mortals, live on your knees.”
I’ve knelt for three years. I butcher pigs by day and sharpen my blade by night. Not my butcher’s knife, but the battered, rust-covered blade I found in the ruins, engraved with the words “Godslayer.”
Tonight, the moon is full. The blade shines.
With my first strike, I’ll destroy the idol in the City God Temple. With my second, I’ll cut down a real god.
They say mortals can’t kill gods.
I say: gods are made of flesh too.
