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Book Description

Publication Date: August 1, 2012

Not a day passed without some sort of a fundamentalist attack happening somewhere in the world, and all in the name of a “holy war” whose beginning no-one even remembered anymore. Fanatics kidnapped airplanes, bombed trains, planted explosives in shopping malls, ruthlessly and mercilessly killing anyone in their path. Gradually, they managed to seize control over televisions stations, hospitals, and any areas rich in natural resources.
In time, particular militia groups would
consolidate into a regular, uniform army controlled by the powerful political arm of the terrorist empire. And at its head stood the Caliph, elected for life by coordinators governing the particular provinces under the organisation’s control.
The terrorists would also make sure to take over nondescript, remote areas in the highest mountains, as the altitude made it easy to keep an eye on the UN bases above.
The island of Sikoku in Japan was one of such places. For centuries it had been just one of the world’s many holy places, revered by religiously inclined pilgrims and pretty much forgotten by everyone else.
Following ancient traditions, groups of pilgrims would walk in processions clockwise around the island, mostly on foot, to visit over eighty temples scattered around this solitary patch of land in hope of gaining wisdom and finding some sort of purpose in their lives.
Today, however, several dozen of the pilgrims visiting Sikoku were not interested in prayer. Disguised as monks, they gathered in the basement of an uphill monastery with only one purpose, to elect their new leader. The pressure from their subordinates and all the nations comprising the empire was enormous. They could not afford to wait any longer.