None of the occultists, archaeologists and gangsters know the real history, understand the real significance, truly comprehend the occult.
Or so the cultists Faithful present in the scene would claim.

They gathered in a warehouse. Not fancy, but big enough for everyone.

The Blood Chalice is finally stolen found.
The heir of the ancient lineage is chained to an altar (it should have been a great honor, but he foolishly refused), scepter and lash lying at his sides. The high priest is standing above him, fully covered – unusually for a ranathim – in black robes, and wearing a mask. Holding the chalice in his left hand, and a golden staff in his right.

“The undying power will return!” The priest exclaims – in Ancient Tyrannic, not spoken for years by anyone but the most traditionalist Tyrannic cultists – and rings his staff on the ground.

“So commands Ozamanthim!” chants the cult.

“The ancient agreement will be honored!” staff rings on the ground.

“So commands Ozamanthim!”

“The heir will take his destined place!"

“So commands Ozamanthim!”

Something was starting to coalesce around the altar. Not visible, not audible, but unmistakable nonetheless, an indescribably powerful presence.

“The god-king[1] will live again!”

[1] Lit: "mystical tyrant"

“So commands Ozamanthim!”

The ritual’s completion hardly had any obvious signs, other than the collective loud gasp of the cultists.
But the body of the boy, whose heart stopped for one long moment, took a deep sharp breath…

And Ozamanthim opened his eyes, glowing with orange light.

Higher in the city, on a Stellar-Dynamics commercial-recreational-landing platform™, (non)local weirdo Raz Sod was lecturing explaining his opinions on Neo-Rational philosophy to his semi-colleague, young journalist Ivan Baixinzu.

"The Supernatural, of course, cannot exist. By definition. Those who ‘believe in the supernatural' are all idiots, of course. But things that appear supernatural can still happen. Things called 'magic'. Things that are natural and possible, but not believed to be possible, not yet proven by science, and everyone who doesn't believe in that is not less idiotic. And don't even get me started on the whole 'god slayer' nonsense, which -"

"I am sorry, I could not avoid overhearing your conversation, and its topic is…can I sit?"

"Yes of course. As I was saying - "

The ranathim man looked similar to the boy at the center of the ritual, but also different, not in small part due to increased age and musculature, as well as different horn shape.
He was not dressed in the poor techno-punk fashion typical of Kronos, but also not in a rich and formal Imperial suit. He wore a cloak made of animal fur, created seemingly without technological assistance, with a bare chest, and covered head to toe with golden jewelry. 

"And who might you be?"

"A diplomat, from the Umbral Rim. Here to witness the glorious power and efficiency of the 'galactic empire'. Feel the free breath of the renewed Core, so to speak."

Raz, uncharacteristically, took several moments before he started speaking, his facial expression going through a dizzying series of transformations. 

"You - How can it - be you? How can it be…the three of you! This is…there are several layers of how improbable-to-the-point-of-impossibility[1] it is!"
(Intended meaning: "this is a crack-spinoff of a crack-spinoff of a thread that wasn't even written yet.")


[1] Two-syllabel word in Logica. [2]
[2] Raz likes to randomly insert Logica nouns into phrases in Galactic Common.