Amanai had dreamed to have the continent united, the races, the cultures and people be at peace with each other, it had been his dream since he was a fledgling who did nothing but throw rocks into the river by his village. He pursued the dream steadfastly.
It had begun with little bloodshed, but time and people bring the worst out of an individual. People became obstacles, things pulling him at his feet and slowing him down, he had to do something about them, he had to cut them off. And so he did everything a dreamer did, he cleaved his way to his dream, mastering esoteric martial arts, cultivation abilities and even doing what many would only assume to be evil.
He might have been evil, but he had the guts to do it with his own hands, to steal what was needed, to perform the reprehensible thing to reach the next level, and there was a goal to this, a noble one, and sometimes, the end does justify the means.
That was the past now, all stolen into time, and nothing but memories in people's minds and in stories. He had lost and his legacy would be nothing but a mass killer that instilled fear in the minds of those who still remember his deeds. A warmonger, Butcher, hate in man, those were what people knew him for, but, he had done more, but those are yet to come.
When consciousness befell Amanai once more, he was in a bright radiant place, of swallowing light and innumerable willowy masses of clouds.
He smirked, what was he doing here?
He looked down at his body and saw that he was wearing the most beautiful regalia he had owned back when he was alive, back when he wasn't constantly killing. It was to be expected—the gods required those in their presence to look their very best. They were, after all, gods who judged not just actions but appearances. Even to gods, one's fashion sense made an impression.
"You" A voice reverberated across the space from above, and it was like where Amanai stood quaked.
He crouched and slowly peeked above to where the voice came.
A large face morphed from the clouds in the form of an old man with a large beard. He was radiant, he was poised, he was beautiful. He was the all-father, the head of the god judges.
"You have been brought to be judged for your deeds Amanai, your hands are not clean, you stain the very clouds you stand on." He announced with his all encompassing voice, prompting Amanai to look down below on where he stood.
Once he did, the white cloud area where he stood spilled to red, spreading from Amanai–the center to about a kilometer radius, telling of the blood he had spilled, a symbol true to his identity, a man guilty and exposed.
Amanai kept a stoic face, the surface where he stood becoming blood red in an instant shook him, but he tried his best to hide it, his face only mildly giving it away with a little crease that immediately went smooth afterwards.
He looked at his attire, his purple dress and robes that gave him a regal appearance, like a wealthy merchant or a noble of a king's court, or perhaps a magician, for the royal magicians were known to wear purple robes across the continent. It was like they came together and despite the conflict holding amongst their people, their lords and their generals, they agreed to don purple robes as their signature dress in the castles, to have them stand out and be identified.
He had hoped to be a magician once, though that wasn't the reason he owned a purple regalia, that is a story for another time.
The all-father God quietly observed Amanai and his field of red, the man's presence had soiled the holy place and though many who come here do so, none had done so as much as Amanai just did.
Amanai looked back at the god, the two staring at each other.
Then, other gods began to take shape, those who were judges and a number of those who weren't for they all had heard of Amanai's deed and they were curious of the man.
Soon, the space was filled with different gods, of those humanoid, those beastly, those eldritch, and even those who were nothing but hovering shapes. Many wanted to see the man who had brought so many in a short time to their midst.
They awaited his judgement.
Seven other gods hovered close to the all-father, while others maintained their distance.
Amanai knew then that those were the other god judges, all eight of them present to join him, all eight ready to condemn him.
Yet, he stood firm, unshaken by the foreign presence, unshaken by the light and power radiated by those around him.
The gods were brimming with power and though it seeked to dominate Amanai and have him fall, he remained. Upstanding and resolute like a wall.
"You've killed men, women, children, beasts, critters, trees, the land. You've disrupted the balance of our world, our workpiece, you joined us to paint the world in your preferred image, you've feigned a god, but you are no god."
Amanai smirked slightly from the statement, it was a god of a womanly physique–body bare, except her face was a hovering trapezohedron–a three-dimensional kite shaped thing afloat and unconnected to the body below, but still together, still one.
Her crystal head held a concentrated radiance in them, like overflowing gold trapped tightly in a glass, and from it shone perfect light, indiscriminate with where it shone.
It was like the light would engulf him.
The statement was a little comical to Amanai, for he knew, a number of the gods present, a number of the gods in the heavens were once from the lower realm, the inconsequential world from where he came, and he was sure that they had done some of what he did, they might not be to the extent to which he did so, but they had, and Amanai found it to be a little hypocritical, but he wasn't exactly the epitome of morals, he couldn't complain.
All he could do was to await judgement.