A televised event is planned to formally introduce the world to their new leader, and as the hour approaches, the despair and anarchy that had gripped the globe begin to dissipate. In the wake of a worldwide nuclear war, amid the worst ecological disaster since the demise of the dinosaurs, many people actually start to feel like there’s hope. They sense that somehow they’ve always had an inner longing for somebody like this, someone who could take the burden of world government upon his shoulders, a wonderful counselor who would be a father figure to them, one who would finally put an end to war—a prince of peace. Few knew that millennia before this, the prophet Isaiah had predicted the appearance of just such a man—unfortunately, not the man the celebrants were honoring, but the One he was impersonating.

In a move fraught with portent, the Antichrist arranges for his inauguration to be held near the scene of his greatest diplomatic triumph—the new Jewish temple in Jerusalem. Ironically, the temple mount, which was supposed to be a symbol of earth’s unity, now has a large open area right in the middle of it that will serve perfectly for this huge gathering. The gap was created when exuberant Israelis had bulldozed the Dome of the Rock shortly after Magog’s humiliating defeat. They didn’t want to give the few remaining Muslims a reason to come back—ever. They would not repeat Moshe Dayan’s disastrous blunder of 1967.

The big day arrives. It has been almost three and a half years since his first worldwide diplomatic triumph. It’s a short time, as history goes, but long enough for people to have forgotten that his Middle East peace plan—his “last, best, hope for world peace”—was the singular event that had primed the world for war, that had, after decades of divisive squabbling, focused the irrational hatred of a billion Muslims upon the tiny, insignificant nation of Israel. The world has conveniently failed to comprehend that the Russians had seen him—not Israel—as the threat when Dar al-Islam had been nuked into oblivion. There are but a relative handful who see the evil in the European leader. What will they do now? When Germans during the 1930s had perceived the truth about Hitler, many of those who were able had fled the Fatherland. But where can one flee this time? This man is about to assume leadership of the entire world.

The European leader and his entourage climb the stairs to the temple mount in triumph as film crews from news organizations around the world record the scene. The dais has been placed directly over the lower summit of Mount Moriah—the rock around which the Muslims had built their shrine (on the foundations of the second-century Roman temple to Jupiter). In the background stands the new temple, shimmering despite the darkened sun—a symbol to all the world of the fresh spirit of religious tolerance that had built it. The irony—like the polluted air—is so thick you can cut it with a knife.

As he mounts the dais, the Antichrist greets world leaders and religious potentates; all of the most influential men of the earth have come to pay homage to their new leader. A few chapters back, I hypothesized about a liberal Jewish theologian who would be instrumental in making a “success” out of the Antichrist’s vaunted worldwide ecumenical council. We’ll meet this fellow in scripture in a little while—he plays a major role in what’s coming. For now, imagine him as the master of ceremonies on this most auspicious of occasions, this combination press conference and coronation on the temple mount. The theologian gives a glowing forty-minute appraisal of the Antichrist’s accomplishments, characterizing him as a “Prince of Peace.” He prudently neglects to mention his most noteworthy achievement so far—starting a global thermonuclear war.