The God of the Christian world is an omniscient, omnipotent, and immaterial being, standing outside of time and space. He watches the events of the human world with a deep understanding and a sorrow that springs from an eternal love of creation.
Although his power reaches beyond human comprehension, he does not enter the world impulsively. His interventions are guided by a higher plan, a balance between human free will and divine justice.
Even when humans, through their stupidity, unleash darkness upon the world, God does not intervene immediately. Not because He cannot, but because the darkness was born of free human choice.
He watches as dark magic and sacrifice strengthen the darkness to the point where direct divine intervention would tip the balance of the world. The path to light must lead through human decisions and actions.
Although God does not appear in fire or storm, He works through silent inspiration. In monasteries and cathedrals, He whispers prophetic warnings into the souls of monks and priests.
He shows them that the pagan threat is rising again and that spiritual strength and faith are needed to confront it. God is counting on people’s faith, on their courage and inner strength, not on miracles that would absolve them of responsibility.
When the warning goes unheeded and human pride, cowardice, and unbelief darken the minds of the nations, God’s patience begins to wear thin. Not because his will changes, but because justice is an inseparable part of his being.
God is not a cold judge, but a father disappointed in his children, whose anger does not spring from revenge, but from pain and love that confronts human obstinacy.
At a time when the world is falling into chaos and evil seems to be writing history, God turns his gaze – not to kings, not to cardinals, but to one man.
A simple but courageous man with a faith so deep that he expresses it not in words but in actions. His pure heart and selfless deeds make him a light in the darkness. He becomes a torch in the darkness.
God decides to send help. Not in a way that would reveal his glory to all, but gently, secretly, as he often does.
A mortal knight who walks alongside the hero as a friend, advisor, and protector. God thus shows that his power is not only in a voice that roars over the mountains, but also in the silent union of two souls.
When the final battle came, it was not as the songs had said. The sky was not red with blood, but gray and cold as stone. No wolves or snakes came. Only silence. A silence that penetrated even to the wood of Yggdrasil. Odin stood at the head, as befits a father of the gods. He did not flinch. He did not hesitate. He only looked up, not at his enemies, but higher. Where a wind began to blow from that which did not belong to Midgard or Asgard.
No one saw him die. All that remained were the broken runes, the cracked wood of the spear Gungnir, and strange ashes that did not fly in the wind, but lay heavy as guilt. His presence was not lost, but was swallowed up. Not by evil, not by fire, but by a power that had no name in any Norse language, and since then his name has not been spoken. Not out of fear, but out of reverence.
The earth shook for the last time, then stopped. Mjöllnir fell, its last blow echoing in the deep rift of the north. Those who came found only shattered stone, molten metal, and the smell of ozone. Thor was gone. He had not died. No one had seen it. Not even the Valkyries. He had vanished without a trace, as if the world could no longer hold him. Perhaps he had gone elsewhere. To a land where there was no need to fight giants or smash thunder against mountains. Perhaps he was just waiting for someone to call him again. But no voice could yet reach high enough.
When everything was breaking, it was Loki who laughed the last. Not out of joy, but out of understanding. He knew that this was not just the end of the old world, it was the beginning of a different order. He, the son of giants, friend and traitor of the gods, saw the coming of a power that walks neither in heat nor in storm. In a purity that leaves no room for any gray, not even for him.
He tried to run, to transform, to disappear, to deny himself. But something, or someone, stopped him. His laughter died away, the bonds that bound him were not of metal, but of a decision that was not human. He was buried deep, not in the ground, but in oblivion, the memories of him became dangerous. The whisper of his name fell silent, it is not known if he was dreaming… or waiting.
The Grand Vizier does not enter the halls with a noisy retinue, nor does he brag about the sanctity of his mission. It is enough for the door to open. His glance is enough. Wherever he goes, the invisible weight of heavenly judgment comes with him. He does not represent the king, he is subject to no one – he is the voice of Allah himself. His words are not pleas or threats. They are facts that are not negotiable.
No one knows exactly where he comes from. Some say he was born in Medina, others in Cairo. But his true home is an idea – a faith that survives swords, crosses and years of drought. His mind is sharp as a saber, his tongue agile as the wind in a desert storm. When he speaks, he does so with the calmness of a man who knows the end of the story – and knows that there is only one truth.
Where others see chaos, he reads signs. Every failure is a test, every success an affirmation of faith. When the Normans fight for the English throne, the Grand Vizier watches calmly – in his eyes there is only silent approval or even quieter condemnation. For all is the will of Allah. And the will of Allah is law.
The Grand Vizier has no army, yet heads roll at his words. His strength lies in faith and the iron structure he builds around himself. Mosques rise where castles have fallen. Law is not written in blood, but in calligraphy. Anyone who opposes becomes an enemy of heaven – and he never raises his voice.
He is not a prophet, but he lives in such a way that even a prophet would be stunned by his devotion. He is a man and at the same time a vessel through which a higher will flows. He is living proof that Allah does not need weapons – his word is enough for him. And a word spoken with faith is more powerful than an army.
He is not on the battlefields, but his thoughts will reach them before steel. While the northern ships rumble and the western cities burn, the Grand Vizier draws the future in silent calligraphy. He does not need to conquer England by force – he only needs to sow doubt. And one day the last king will bow not to the sword, but to the letter. He is not visible – but he is everywhere.
We are creating the world of Aeternum Bellum with a passion for history and fantasy. Our goal is to offer a deep gaming experience where every decision matters and every story leaves a mark.
Thank you to everyone who believes in our project, supports us financially, or helps build the world of Aeternum Bellum. Your support is our driving force.