Reborn as the God-Emperor in Marvel

"Evil attracts evil. He is destined to stay away from ordinary life. He will discover his abnormality, something he cannot control," the Supreme Sorcerer said, gazing at the bright star in the eastern sky, speaking to her disciples. "His talent far surpasses yours, and this may not be a good thing. He will encounter strange events in his life that you never will. There is no need to envy him, Mordo, Kaecilius. I will place a burden on him that is not his to bear. He will suffer."

Jezebel was wracked with pain—she had been abandoned, or rather, she had abandoned herself.

In the vast city of New York, she was completely alone.

When she fled her country to avoid the marriage arranged by her father, she had only a few dollars, but those were long spent, given to the smugglers. If not for the small hammer she had found on the boat, she might not have preserved her chastity.

But she had no regrets. Even though the cramped space on the smuggling boat was barely enough for everyone to stand, where even relieving oneself was difficult, and where sickness and fever led people to be thrown overboard, she never regretted fleeing that country.

She didn't want to marry Old Korah from next door, who was already bald. Since she was ten, whenever his leering eyes slid over her, Jezebel would shiver. But when she turned nineteen, and Old Korah offered her father 100,000 new shekels to marry her, her father agreed without hesitation.

It wasn't just because her younger brother, who hadn't served in the military, needed a large enough wedding house in the future. Her many younger siblings also needed money, and a pilgrimage to Jerusalem was no small expense.

She had wanted to scream—families as poor as her Haradi household were rare, but in the slums they lived in, poverty was the norm. The men of her community merely nodded in prayer while the women provided all the income. Her family couldn't afford to send her to study math or science.

Jezebel refused to let her future be like those women she'd seen standing on dusty streets, cradling children, staring blankly into the distance, only coming alive on days when government subsidies arrived. Jezebel could already imagine her life if she married Old Korah: she'd become like those lifeless puppets.

She had resisted, but that only earned her more beatings from her father and even more work. He wanted her to become a docile wife, or at the very least, a wife worth Old Korah's money.

During that time, she prayed constantly, invoking the name of Jehovah, hoping for a prophet to deliver her. Then one day, the water from the faucet turned to blood. This happened for seven consecutive days, but her father dismissed it as rusty pipes.

Having only studied the Torah, Jezebel was elated. She saw it as a sign, just as Moses had persuaded Pharaoh. Without hesitation, she stole the dollars her mother had earned from work and fled to the land that boasted freedom and democracy, a place where milk and honey supposedly flowed, in hopes of a new life.

But how could a young girl, who had only learned basic religious studies, find work? Despite her diligence, without identification, she couldn't sign any contracts.

Jezebel scraped by on meager daily wages, disguising herself as a non-believer, covering her fair beauty with a headscarf to avoid harassment from street thugs. Then one day, she felt nauseous—a fellow illegal immigrant she worked with told her she was pregnant.

She couldn't believe her ears. She was still a virgin!

The more she thought about it, the more panicked she became. After checking herself, she confirmed her purity. But as her belly grew, she began dreaming of a figure bathed in light telling her, "Give birth to him, and you shall be sanctified."

This terrified her, for it was a god from a heretical story. Even if the god were real, she didn't believe she deserved divine blessings. She was no Mary. Jezebel couldn't tell if this was a hallucination or a real vision of the Holy Spirit.

Yet she felt reluctant. This child would be fatherless, and she had no intention of finding a Joseph to marry in haste. Regardless, her religious beliefs forbade her from getting an abortion, so she didn't seek a doctor's help.

Dragging her cumbersome body, Jezebel continued to work, but her scant wages were insufficient to nourish both herself and the baby. She grew weaker, her limbs failing her, until she could no longer work. Losing her job meant losing her home. Thankfully, a kind priest, after hearing her story, took pity on her (though he didn't believe her) and allowed her to stay in the church parking lot, providing her with blankets and warm water. In return, she helped clean the benches during the day and received some bread and leftover communion wine for sustenance.

Jezebel was deeply grateful for the priest's help. But as her child grew, her movement became more difficult. She forced herself to eat, determined to give birth to a healthy baby.

On this cold night under a bright starry sky, she sensed that her child was ready to be born. Yet her body, ravaged by malnutrition, was failing her. The child inside her was like a parasite, greedily draining the last of her strength.

When the Ancient One, robed in yellow, appeared before her, Jezebel could only shed tears, weakly propping herself up and pleading in a faint voice for the Sorcerer Supreme to save her child.

"I came following the stars," the Ancient One knelt beside Jezebel, pointing to the sky. "Your child will be born, and he will become my disciple."

The Supreme Sorcerer opened a box and placed gold, frankincense, and myrrh beside Jezebel, using magic to sustain her flickering life force. When the child was born, the Ancient One noticed that all ten of the infant's fingers bore circular wounds from which red light emanated, though Jezebel did not see this.

"I can no longer save you. Your life has been too difficult during your pregnancy," said the Supreme Sorcerer. To her eyes, Jezebel's body was surrounded by a soft white glow, the only thing keeping her from complete collapse. But once this extraordinary child was born, the light faded, and not even the Sorcerer Supreme's magic could keep Jezebel alive any longer. In her final moments, tears streaming down her face, she closed her eyes.

"Solomon," she whispered.

"Solomon Damonet. He will be a maker of miracles," the Ancient One declared. Jezebel used the last of her strength to nod.

"Your soul will ascend to heaven."

A beam of brilliant white light shot into the sky, and an inaudible chorus of heavenly hymns filled the air. Jezebel closed her eyes for the last time. The Supreme Sorcerer wrapped the baby in red sacramental cloth, and the wounds on his fingers immediately healed, leaving only faint circular marks. The Sorcerer opened a portal, bringing the lifeless Jezebel and her newborn child back to Kamar-Taj.

When the priest, awakened by the blinding light, rushed to the parking lot, he found only the gold, frankincense, and myrrh left on Jezebel's bed. The young woman had disappeared.

Upon returning to Kamar-Taj, the young disciples quickly gathered around, having sensed the disturbance in the city. But the Supreme Sorcerer stopped their questions and handed the child to them, before going to bury Jezebel near the Kamar-Taj tombs.

On the night Solomon Damonet was born, demonic activity suddenly increased. Though the invaders were low-level demons acting independently, they were enough to keep the sorcerers of Kamar-Taj busy for a while. It took a personal visit from the Supreme Sorcerer to the Abyss to speak with a few Abyssal Lords before the chaos subsided.

As for the wounds on Solomon Damonet's fingers, the Sorcerer Supreme called them stigmata. After wrapping them in sacramental cloth and healing them with magic, the stigmata disappeared. Solomon himself, however, was lost in layers of memories. Even after being handed to experienced female sorcerers for care, he no longer cried but showed only confusion.

In his mind, there were many different memories. Sometimes, he was a reclusive hermit living a mundane and boring life. Other times, he was a mage favored by the gods, who later descended into madness and was reduced to ashes by another deity. After three hundred years, he became a lich, only to be killed by twelve holy knights. At times, he held the memories of a grand mage from Golarion, serving as a lackey for ancient rulers.

Not only that, but as the Supreme Sorcerer departed, the stigmata on his fingers flickered with light. Yet, before his soul could plunge into madness, the stigmata went dark.

Solomon Damonet was finally able to rest.

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