Waking God: Rising

If you're reading this, it means everything has gone to shit. I'm either dead, close to death, or facing something worse. The condition for the release of this story hinges on my fate; if this has been released, then my fate must have been decided.

A lot has happened to bring me here—some of it my fault, some because I was caught in the crossfire of powerful men, and some because I dared to meddle in the affairs of gods. 

Either way, my fate has been sealed; the choice of whether I will live or not has been taken away from me.

But what I will not let them take from me is my story. I am certain that, as of this moment, narratives are being spun about me and my life—some true, others false, others mixed with varying degrees of truth and lies.

But here, you'll get the truth. Not to gain your sympathy or judgment, but because it's mine to share.

I'll tell you my faults, my flaws, everything. . I will not paint myself as some sort of saint; I most certainly am not. I won't lie to you or exaggerate my feats.

I will not tell you lies or embellish my feats, you'll find them elsewhere—in taverns with drunken men, in bathhouses with noblewomen, in whorehouses with patrons and workers, in courts among aristocrats, at seaports with sailors, or around campfires with children. But not here.

My memory is almost perfect. I remember everything, for better or worse. If some details are fuzzy, like when I was lost in drink, I'll admit it.

After that, judge me if you want. But remember, in a world where gods walk among us, where magic and betrayal are everyday occurrences, my story is just one thread in a much larger tapestry.

Depending on who you ask, I have many names. But for the sake of consistency, I'll stick to Waker.

Why I have these names, where I earned them, and what they mean to me—that's a story I'll tell too. Each name carries its own history, its own weight—some earned in blood, some through love, and others simply by chance.

I've lived a life few could rival. I've been a slave, a warrior, an assassin. I've been an aristocrat, a noble, a king. I've loved common women, noblewomen, princesses, queens, and even goddesses. Each of those encounters taught me something about survival, power, and desire.

There are things I cannot yet reveal—secrets bound by oaths, magic, and fear. But in time, you will understand.

In this land, where the sun sets in blood and the past whispers through ancient ruins, my story could change the course of history. It could topple kingdoms or forge new alliances. Perhaps I shouldn't reveal it all, but to tell my story, I must.

To those whose paths I've crossed, I will reveal things about you that you might not want known. And for that, I'm sorry.

Forgive me, if you can. Hate me, if you must. But know this: I do not speak from malice, but from the need to tell the truth. Your secrets are no longer mine—they belong to the winds of history.

So, dear reader, do you believe a man can control his fate? Or are we all just pawns in a greater game? When you hear of my deeds, will you judge me by your standards or mine? Every hero has his villain, and every villain, his story.

This is mine. And to tell it fully, we must start at the beginning.

In the pages that follow, you won't find easy victories or simple love stories. You'll find life in all its brutal, beautiful and ugly complexity.

Now, turn the page, and let's begin.