We walked through the Sky like a funeral procession, but we carried no flowers, no lamentations. We carried the truth like a sharp blade, ready to thrust it into the chest of anyone who dared deny it. What they called divine was nothing more than a cracked mirror, reflecting only the decay they tried to hide.
— What is God? — I asked, tasting the metallic words in my mouth.
Greed laughed, a dry, hollow laugh, full of nothing but contempt.
— God is the first tyrant, the bronze statue they raised to justify their chains.
— God is a jailer who convinced the prisoners that the cell is paradise. — Sloth murmured, dragging his feet as if the air itself was too heavy.
— God is the knife a father rubs against his son's neck, whispering that it's for his own good. — Lust smiled, her teeth white as freshly polished ivory.
— God is the ghost of a dead king, ruling over a kingdom that has turned to ashes. — Wrath snapped her fingers, her eyes burning with the fury of a thousand repressed ages.
— And Faith? — I continued, feeling the weight of the word like a nail being driven into flesh.
Gluttony licked his lips, like a dog sniffing a fresh corpse.
— Faith is the noose around the neck of the hanged man, but he calls it an embrace.
— Faith is a river that flows into nothingness, but the fools keep drinking. — Envy laughed, a short, sharp sound, like a blade sliding over bone.
— Faith is a leaky boat, and even as it sinks, they scream it's the only salvation. — Greed spat on the ground.
I felt the Sky tremble beneath my feet. The foundations of the lie were crumbling, deep cracks spreading like poison in the veins of a dying man.
— And Humanity?
This time, it was Lust who answered first.
— Humanity is an animal dying of thirst before the ocean, refusing to drink because the water tastes of despair.
— Humanity is a scream in the dark, waiting for an answer that will never come. — Envy whispered, staring at the horizon as if she saw beyond it.
— Humanity is a rat trapped in a maze, running in circles, convinced there is an exit. — Gluttony sighed.
— Humanity is a house on fire, yet everyone inside continues arguing about who lit the match. — Greed growled.
— Humanity is a suicide who fears death. — Wrath spat.
I laughed. A short, dry laugh, a crack spreading across something that was already on the verge of collapsing.
— So tell me… What are we?
Silence.
That kind of silence that precedes disaster, the deep breath before the plunge, the moment of peace before the blade touches the flesh.
Then Lust smiled, and her voice was as sweet as poison mixed with wine.
— We are the gravediggers.
— We are the wind that blows out the last candle in the cathedral of the righteous. — Envy added.
— We are the eyes that see the rot everyone pretends to ignore. — Greed murmured.
— We are the hand that pushes the world toward the abyss. — Wrath growled.
— We are what remains when the lie evaporates. — Gluttony whispered.
And I looked up at the Sky, at its immaculate walls, its towers built on broken promises, and saw that they were trembling, cracked, about to fall.
— Then let's finish the job. — I murmured.
The path was marked by broken bones and echoes of prayers suffocated by silence. The Sky, once promised as the dwelling place of peace, now rose as a profaned altar. Blood flowed down the stairs leading to the last refuge of the faithful, ten trembling shadows still holding on to the illusion that their words could grant them mercy.
They were there, kneeling, draped in robes that were no longer white but stained by the massacre. The last ones. The last of a faith that was never theirs, of an oath sealed with lies, of a devotion shaped by fear.
I stopped in front of them, and the Sins spread around me, as if we were the executioners of a judgment long decreed.
— You've understood that your gods won't answer you, haven't you? — My voice cut through the air like a cold blade.
One of the men raised his head, his eyes red and tearful. He wasn't asking for mercy, he wasn't pleading for his life. He wanted his faith to be recognized.
— We… we followed "Jesus" and "Muhammad"… we are not sinners… we are the chosen ones...
— Chosen? — Lust laughed, running her fingers across the man's face, feeling the heat of the fever that burned his skin. — Then why do you bleed like everyone else?
— If you are chosen, where are the signs? — Envy spat on the ground. — Where are the miracles?
Greed looked at the few treasures they still carried, the dirty rings, the torn scriptures.
— They've given all they had… there's nothing more to take.
Gluttony inhaled deeply, smelling the bodies rotting beneath the false shine of Paradise.
— But there's still something to consume.
Wrath just waited, fists clenched, ready to crush any last remnants of resistance.
I stepped forward and looked at each of them. Ten. Just ten. The last breath of a lie that had lasted too long.
— You spent your lives killing in the name of something you never saw. You knelt, prayed, sacrificed, and called it devotion. But in the end, all that remains is you, alone, before the truth you always ignored.
One of them, a young man with a vacant gaze, murmured:
— But we did what was right... we followed their will...
— And they? — I asked. — What did they do for you?
Silence.
None of them knew how to answer. None of them could answer.
I gave the order without hesitation.
— Let's finish this.
Greed ripped the rings off their fingers before breaking them. Gluttony devoured their screams before they could become prayers. Lust cut their throats as if carving a new story. Envy erased their faces, for they didn't deserve to be remembered. Wrath crushed their skulls, turning what was left of them into dust.
And I simply watched.
When the last one fell, I looked up. The sky was stained, the blood flowing reflected the truth that had always been there.
"Jesus" and "Muhammad" never saved them.
And now, there was no one left to save.
Before the final battle, between Jesus and Muhammad.
Thus, the sins, like echoes of a primordial scream, resound to the heavens every night, proclaiming a truth as bitter as a dark hymn:
Greed exclaims: "I love the one who enchants with golden promises, whose words extend further than their actions, and who always does more than they promise, for in the relentless pursuit of their own triumph, they rush toward their fall."
Gluttony declares: "I love the one whose soul is so overflowing that it loses itself in its own appetite, making itself a receptacle of the world, until the world consumes it, leading it to its decadence."
Wrath cries out: "I love the one who thinks themselves free in spirit and heart, believing that their head is a reflection of the gut of their heart, but who, when giving in to fury, sees their mind devoured by the storm of their own feeling."
Lust whispers: "I love the one who carries within them the primordial chaos, the one who, in the fight for creation, engenders a blinding star, even if its light is just a spark of destruction."
Sloth murmurs: "I love the one who surrenders to their own virtue, allowing their inclination to become their destiny, condemned to live without living, lost in the lethargy they themselves chose."
Envy, with hungry eyes, states: "I love the one whose soul is so full of desire and greed that they forget themselves, and in their reckless pursuit of everything they lack, they lose themselves, seeing in each desire a step deeper into their own abyss."
And so, all the sins, united in a cosmic scream, echo simultaneously, proclaiming: "Void is the Superman!"
Thus spoke the sins, saying to Naka and all the sinners, those who, upon rising to the heavens, before they were lost, found their souls captive.
Naka did not exterminate the so-called sinners, for most had already transformed, no longer bearing the mark of error. However, he freed them from those claws that demons had set in their path. For it was not the sins that killed them, but the return to the abyss, brought by Belial and Dajjal.
Belial, the imposter of Christ, engineered a betrayal that trapped Void and us, lost beings, in the depths of despair's cages. He manipulated human faith as a tool of deceit, leading all through a labyrinth of lies that distorted the true essence of belief. His evil plan culminated in the release of Void, orchestrated by Mephistopheles, who blindly believed that this would be the solution. However, this release resulted in a tragedy, for Void, now free, returned to destroy those who had liberated him, including Mephistopheles, who paid with his own life for his naivety.
Simultaneously, Dajjal, a deceiving shadow, pretended to be Muhammad, trying to confuse the hearts and minds of men, bringing to the heavens an illusion of a spiritual guide. The figure of Muhammad, distorted and perverted by the essence of Dajjal, was used to plant false truths and ideologies. Thus, instead of guiding men to the true light, he led them away, guiding them toward an abyss of false beliefs, where the truth was but a shadow of itself. In the end, all that remained were distorted echoes of reality, a reality where the shadows of truth became more real than the light itself.
Jesus, Void, and Muhammad rest, for they fulfilled their missions, bringing good news. But Belial and Dajjal manipulate, corrupting the path, sowing error where there was once light. They destroyed the sky, ensnaring angels and humans in the web of falsehood. The true prophets rest, no longer touched by the flesh, for Void purified their souls. They, in spirit, follow beyond the flesh and sin, while the demons, in the rot of their nature, poisoned the souls of those who followed them.
These were the agents of destruction, the causes of the celestial collapse.
The Creator, in His infinite wisdom, seeks companions, not corpses.