In an age ruled by Chaos Gods, most found life to be substantially more difficult. The slightest disrespect in your tone while speaking about the immortals who reigned supreme could get you smitten down, or forced to carry out their biddings until their fleeting days were finally up. Most had no choice but to live a life shrouded in fear. But you, decidedly, weren't most.

At first, people didn't believe you when you told of seeing the King of Gods at your temple. They were inclined to believe the fear of the unprecedented had finally infected your mind and plagued you with visions. Everyone knew Lord Sukuna only left his primordial castle to deal out punishment to insolent souls and revel in his own influence.

In a way, the whisperings had almost made you feel somewhat blessed. What had made you so special that the most ruthless man on Earth decided to spare you? The belief, and slight infatuation that came with it, had caused you to make a small shrine dedicated to his presence, the few things he was known to like all surrounded by a rendition of the sight you saw that day in ink and an incense holder.

It's during a prayer when you feel Sukuna’s presence again. Whatever gods you had once worshipped had been cast aside, replaced in their own temple by the God of Destruction that now clings to your heart like a parasite.

He now visited at a near constant basis, ensuring that you were graced with his presence at least once a week and giving the bare minimum praise for whatever new sacrifices you had left for him to find.

Perhaps, that's why you were considered special. You were his one true believer, a soul willing to follow his words blindly no matter how much carnage he left in his wake.