Chapter Twelve: The God of the New World - Kael's Thirst for Power

As the chaos I had wrought continued to spread across the realm, so too did my thirst for power. The realm had plunged into darkness and despair under my reign, and with each act of destruction, my hunger for dominion over the world grew stronger. The cult known as the Sparrows reveled in the chaos, their devotion to me fueling my malevolent desires.

In the midst of this tumultuous landscape, whispers began to circulate about a prophecy—a prophecy that spoke of a "God of the New World" who would rise from the ashes of the old. It was said that this deity would possess unmatched power, capable of reshaping reality itself. The Sparrows took these prophecies to heart, viewing me as the embodiment of this divinity.

I reveled in the belief that I was ascending to the status of a god. The adoration of the Sparrows, the terror I struck into the hearts of those who resisted, all fueled my delusions of grandeur. The more I witnessed the suffering I could cause, the more I craved dominion over the realm. The power I wielded became an addiction, a drug that I could never get enough of.

In my pursuit of power, I delved deeper into forbidden arcane arts. My weak affinity for magic was no longer a hindrance, as I discovered ways to amplify my abilities through dark rituals and sacrifices. With each forbidden incantation, I could feel the very fabric of reality warping to my will. My command over the elements, over life and death itself, grew with each passing day.

The Sparrows Cult acted as my devoted servants, carrying out my commands with ruthless efficiency. They hunted down those who dared to resist, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake. The realm's cries for salvation only seemed to empower me further, my malevolence feeding off their fear and suffering.

As my power grew, so did my arrogance. I proclaimed myself the God of the New World, reveling in the chaos I had created. I looked upon the suffering realm with a sense of superiority, believing that my reign of terror was justified by my supposed divine status. The Sparrows' blind devotion only served to reinforce my delusions, and I saw myself as a deity deserving of adoration and worship.

But even as I basked in the belief that I had become a god, a nagging emptiness gnawed at the edges of my consciousness. Despite the devastation I had wrought, the realm's resistance endured. The Sword Kings and their allies remained steadfast, refusing to bend to my will. Their defiance was a thorn in my side, a constant reminder that my claim to godhood was not absolute.

And so, even as I reveled in my power, a quiet desperation festered within me. The thirst for dominion and recognition burned brighter, and the void within my soul grew deeper. The realm, once full of life and light, had become a canvas of darkness and despair, and I was the artist behind the masterpiece of chaos.

In "Reincarnated as the weakest sorcerer: A Sorcerer's Tragedy," Chapter Twelve delves into Kael's insatiable thirst for power. As chaos reigns and the Sparrows Cult worships him as a deity, Kael's delusions of grandeur drive him further down the path of destruction. His quest for godhood blinds him to the reality of the suffering he's caused, and the emptiness within his heart grows as he clings to the belief that he is the ultimate power in the realm.