Many proclaim that life is a blessing, a long journey full of thousands of different possibilities whose outcome depends solely on your decisions and actions.
But I do not agree with that optimistic view.
A person's destiny is decided from the moment they are born. If you are born into a wealthy family, it doesn't matter if you are incompetent; your path will still be bright. But if you are born into a poor family, it won't matter if you possess outstanding physical or intellectual talent, or if you achieve great things through your efforts.
Those around you will never change their perception of you.
If you stand out, they'll smile at you, and every word will be a compliment or an acknowledgment of your hard work—a feigned joy. The moment you turn your back and they think you're not listening, they'll point their fingers and whisper the same phrases over and over: "low-class kid" or "a bastard who thinks he's important because of one or two accomplishments."
There's a wide variety of insults, but I think those two are the most common.
Those who fail to realize this and continue trying to push beyond the limits they were given at birth never end up well.
Fortunately for me, I figured out how the world worked before it was too late.
"Are you happy because the teacher congratulated you for being the fastest in the class?" asked a boy two years older, grabbing me by the neck. "Has it gone to your head, Ashes?" He said the nickname with such marked contempt that I wondered how long he'd been planning it.
How could I, a child of barely seven years old, confront him and his friends?
The result was obvious.
"Good heavens!" Mother grabbed my cheeks to examine the wounds that now covered much of my face. "Hong Chinjin, how did you do this to yourself?"
—I fell down the hill—I lied shamelessly, wiping the blood that was escaping from my nose—You don't have to worry, Mom, you know I'm very clumsy.
Mother was distressed; her gaze revealed it to me.
After a few seconds of holding my gaze, she lowered her head and sighed, giving up. I knew Mother knew the truth about my situation; she wasn't stupid enough to distinguish between injuries from a fall and those from a punch. But what could we, mere peasants, do against the children of the sect's high-ranking members?
After that incident I learned to blend in with the rest, to be mediocre like most people. I, Hong Chinjin, was the son of a peasant woman, a child of low birth who should never surpass those of high birth.
I soon realized my decision had been the right one. Those noble children stopped bothering me after a few days without the teacher paying me any attention. Having seen that I had found "my place," they had turned their attention to other children who, despite their humble origins, still dared to stand out.
I thought that would be enough; the beatings stopped, and my mother no longer greeted me with the constant bruises. I only had to endure a few more years, and then I could dedicate all my time to helping my mother in the fields.
Unfortunately, things never turned out the way I wanted.
And three years later the day came when he placed another nail in my coffin.
That day was known as "Selection Day," a stupid name given to it by the sect's early members. On that day, one of the elders would descend from the mountains to choose the children who possessed enough potential to become God's faithful servants and warriors.
As usual, the old man launched into a long speech that seemed to go on for minutes on end. To be honest, the old man's entire monologue only reminded me of the ancient scriptures our teachers forced us to memorize:
"God foretold the destruction of the world and used His divine power to save those He chose. However, He could not give something as wonderful as life without a price. Therefore, He entrusted them with guarding the seven Heavenly Treasures, until He returned to claim them."
My mother and I lived in the remote countryside, so I could see the Divine Barrier from one of the highest mountains in the region. That wall of mist that rose to the sky was real; it bothered me, so it wasn't unreasonable to think that the other treasures mentioned in the scriptures were also real.
But did that mean anything to me?
Not at all.
Perhaps in my childhood I naively dreamed of being one of the chosen ones, but now that possibility had become my worst nightmare. Not only would I be forcibly separated from my mother, but I would also be forced to live among those highborn nobles I so despised.
At this time, my only dream was to live in peace with my mother, where our only concern would be pests in the crops.
A nobody lived better than a child haunted by envy.
Nobody could tell me otherwise.
But...the outcome of the ceremony was not favorable, it shouldn't surprise me, it's nightmares that come true, not dreams.
"Fourteenth elected: Hong Chinjin," the old man announced before continuing to call out.
Upon hearing my name, a shiver ran through my entire body.
"Why? WHY?!" Anger boiled inside me.
How dare they ask me to abandon my recently ill and frail mother to serve a god who had never granted me a single blessing?
Hong Chinjin decided that he would no longer believe in God.
His hatred for everything divine only grew stronger in his heart with each day he spent in the sect enduring all kinds of hardships.
---
The day after they joined the sect, another elder had taken them to the training camp. There, other members and high-profile figures of the sect awaited them, along with a few onlookers.
"Your first task will be to take a piece of paper from this container," the instructor announced.
Beside him, a young man held a small wooden box with a hole in the top. It didn't seem to weigh much, judging by the servant's calm expression.
"What do the papers mean?" one of the children asked.
"Good question. Each one contains the name of a path of service. Depending on their fortune, they can become warriors, blessed ones, or healers," he explained.
The children looked at each other nervously. Was their future being decided by a lottery? Wasn't that too unfair?
Some couldn't help but start whispering, and soon most of the children had already voiced their opinions.
"Silence!" The murmurs ceased. "God is the Beacon of Destiny. There is no greater blessing than entrusting your future to His hand," she declared, then pointed to one of the girls who was trembling the most. "Come and draw a piece of paper!"
She obeyed, walked briskly over, and reached into the box, pulling out a small piece of paper just seconds later. She looked at it anxiously before opening it and reading aloud to everyone:
—Apothecary…
The children remained silent, unsure how he would react, but the old man seemed satisfied.
"Hmm, a healer. Perfect for someone as cowardly as you," the instructor remarked, noting the result. "See? God always knows what future is best for each person. Next!"
One after another, the children came forward. Some showed joy; others, horror.
I didn't really care who drew. When it was my turn, I didn't get nervous and just pulled out the first slip of paper my hand felt. When I opened it, it said: "Renegade."
"Ha, that weak path," the instructor declared, causing the others to laugh. "You'll have a hard time. God doesn't like you."
"I've known that for a long time, you didn't have to remind me, old man," I said to myself before returning to my place.
I repeat, I didn't care about my path. In fact, I was more interested in those who would be "lucky" enough to be chosen by God. So far, no child had turned out to be "blessed."
At least it was, until those arrogant fools stepped forward. I quickly recognized them as the same ones who had tormented me when I was still trying to earn the master's praise. It didn't surprise me to see them here; after all, how could the sons of nobles be excluded?
Diviner, Marauder, and Apprentice… One after another, they announced their roles. All of them paths "blessed" by God.
"As you would expect from purebloods!" The instructor smiled, satisfied.
~It's such an obvious fraud…--I thought~~How could God choose so many "blessed" ones if He even demands a price for setting up a simple Barrier?
If it weren't for the Barrier, I would have believed that God was an invention, a mere pretext to control people.
But what other being, other than God, could erect a structure that connected Heaven and Earth?
Even so, Hong Chinjin would never believe in Him again.
Never.
---
A year after I officially joined the sect, my mother died. I couldn't deny that she had endured a great deal despite never receiving the necessary care for her illness.
Hong Chinjin didn't cry; he already knew. He had sensed it weeks before hearing the news. His spiritual intuition had been warning him for months.
Some called him weak or cursed, for God had granted him the "worst path" of all the paths of service. But Hong Chinjin disagreed with their opinions; he liked his path, it was too useful for survival. He couldn't count the number of problems and dangers he had avoided thanks to the sharp intuition it bestowed upon him.
Was he physically weak? Yes, and he didn't care.
Combat skills? None, nor did he care.
Survival skills? Overwhelming. That was enough for him to try to live in silence.
~But, as always, life insisted on denying me peace.
It was obvious that God hated me. There was no way to deny it anymore.
---
When I turned fourteen, I felt the hope I had lost years before return. I only had one more year to request a transfer to another branch of the sect, one where there weren't so many privileged children eager to mock me and boast about their blessed path. A place with others like me, marginalized because of their origins.
Unfortunately, I was never able to put that plan into action.
—Servant Hong Chinjin, you are accused of stealing one of the artifacts from the Sacred Vault—my intuition screamed, but even without it, I knew danger was imminent—. Are you ready to face the consequences of your betrayal of God?
"Ready? How could I be?" My head was throbbing frantically, trying to process all the thoughts racing through my mind. "Betrayal of God is paid for in blood! I didn't even commit such blasphemy!"
I desperately needed to find a way out, but even with my skills I couldn't find a solution to such an accusation.
"Is this the end for me? Even if I scream of my innocence, they won't believe me. And they won't give me time to prove it either"—her fallen hair covered her eyes, hiding the intense trembling within them.
Suddenly, something prompted Hong Chinjin to raise his head and look behind the judge. One of the children who always bothered him was there, watching with glee.
"You!... You're the one who stole the artifact and you're blaming me!" Her eyes blazed with hatred as she saw the growing smile on the real thief's face. "Of course, nobles must maintain their dignity, while we bastards bear their flaws."
"Since he does not attempt to defend himself, he is declared guilty," the authoritarian voice echoed throughout the courtroom.
"Was there any other possible destiny?" he wondered ironically.
"Your head will be cut off and displayed on the highest mountain, so that all may witness the punishment for betraying God." Hong Chinjin's body trembled, not from fear of imminent death, but from the resentment that he could now almost no longer contain. "The execution will take place in one month. Repent during your last days of life."
No one paid any attention to Hong Chinjin being dragged away by the guards. No one cared about his fate. The only person who had shed tears for him was long since dead.
It was remembered that he was a mere pawn, a disposable being once stained by the garbage of another.
-I...Eggs...EGGS.
The guards frowned at his deranged laughter. Unwilling to remain by his side any longer, they threw Hong Chinjin into the cell where he would spend the last days of his life.
As she fell to the cold ground, she managed to calm her raging emotions somewhat. Even so, she didn't get up; her now-closed eyes still let out treacherous tears that warmed her cheeks.
"What a useless life I've had," he admitted with a crooked smile.
---The month dragged on with agonizing slowness. Almost without food or water, completely alone in that filthy place, Hong Chinjin spent his days cursing God and all his believers in the most creative ways he could think of. His aversion to everything divine and to those who followed it no longer caused him anger, but weariness.
He wished they would finally cut off his head so he could go see his mother.
~If I had run away, at least I would have died of my own free will…and I might even have met my mother one last time before her early departure.
Now, standing before the crowd that had come to witness his sentencing, he only wanted to laugh and continue cursing. If his curses didn't reach the heavens, at least they would disturb those who worshipped him from the earth.
"He's gone mad. Finish him off," ordered the despicable thief, the damned man responsible for my situation.
Hong Chinjin thought it was the end for him when the executioner's sword rose, ready to fall on his neck.
Who would have imagined that the stornas would be turned upside down by the visit of a sudden guest?
—An execution. How interesting. Isn't this the perfect moment for my arrival? —the melodious yet mocking voice pierced the air, halting the execution—I admit that among all the scenarios I imagined before arriving, I never thought an execution would occur.
Hong Chinjin couldn't help but look up, just like everyone else. Faced with this otherworldly beauty, the condemned man couldn't help but acknowledge that perhaps God had paid him some attention by sending His Angel to witness the execution of the filthy traitor.
"An Angel..." they all whispered as they saw the female figure floating inches above the ground, with an amused smile.
An Angel, a true Angel.
Otherwise, how could someone so sublime exist on Earth?
She was undoubtedly the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, easily outshining those birds who plastered themselves with makeup until they were exhausted, only to end up looking like flawed peacocks. Her white hair was like freshly fallen snow, so long it flowed past her knees. Her eyes were like two amethysts, mostly dull, but if one concentrated, one could detect a dangerous glimmer within them; that darkness contrasted sharply with her pale, perfect skin.
The Angel observed everyone present before landing and walking toward Hong Chinjin. With her hand, she lifted the young man's chin, forcing him to look her in the eyes.
"What did you do to end up like this?" Her eyes seemed to look beyond the boy, as if gazing into his soul.
Hong Chinjin wanted to reveal the whole situation, but his instinct warned him that this was not the answer Ella wanted to hear.
Gathering his courage, and trusting his instincts, he revealed his true thoughts.
"I stopped believing in God," was his response.
Wasn't feigned faith another form of betrayal?
"Stop believing?" he murmured, his dark eyes widening slightly with interest. "I see"—he withdrew his hand—"In that case, you're off my list."
Hong Chinjin didn't understand what the Angel meant. But when he turned to face the audience, the truth was revealed.
She was an angel, yes.
But I had never been one of His Angels.
All the spectators clutched their necks, as if they couldn't breathe, even though no one was holding their throats. Had they forgotten how to breathe? Soon, one by one, they collapsed from lack of air, until their hearts stopped beating.
Suddenly, Hong Chinjin felt the ropes that bound him disappear. He looked at the Angel in bewilderment, but she wasn't paying him any attention. Her eyes were fixed on the highest-ranking man present, the one dressed in the finest fabrics and adorned with the most exquisite jewels.
—God… will not allow… you to do… whatever you want… Demon —Hong Chinjin had to admit that this man had resistance: he was the only one still alive, even though he didn't know how to breathe.
—HAHAHAHA —Her laughter sounded beautiful, despite the sinister smile that accompanied it—. God? God won't come —she shook her head, amused—. Because he's dead —she declared proudly, as if she herself had murdered him.
The announcement seemed to have been delivered in another language, as Hong Chinjin and the shoulder took a while to process it.
"Impossible," he denied incredulously.
—How is it possible that he is still alive?
I didn't care about the supposed death of that despicable God, but I couldn't understand how it was possible for a human to survive so long without breathing.
Apparently my whisper reached His ears, because He finally paid attention to me.
"It's just a puppet," he explained. "Sequence 5 fortune teller?" It was more of a statement than a question.
"Does he know all the powers bestowed by God?"—the possibility was terrifying. "Is it possible that these powers are not divine blessings?"
"How... how does a demon like you know... the blessings He gave us?" the old man was terrified.
"Blessings?" He raised an eyebrow. "They are not blessings. They are blasphemous paths whose purpose is to reach the summit." He walked toward him with a slow, elegant stride. "Little puppeteer, you are nothing more than a pawn on the chessboard of the Worthy Heavenly One, a chessboard that my Lord has already overturned."
~"Worthy Heavenly One? Is that God's name?" Hong Chinjin finally stood up. ~The board overturned… Did his God kill him?
"Impossible! Our God would never fall!" He tried to move, but it was no use. "Why is this body...? No, my original body isn't responding either!"
"Denying the facts is foolish." A click followed his words.
The puppet collapsed as if its strings had been cut.
Then she turned towards me and looked at me with an amused smile.
"A monster. Is survival also your destiny?" Hong Chinjin didn't know how to answer. "Little snake, listen to my advice: unless you want to witness a massacre"—his darkened eyes foreshadowed cruelty—"don't go near that temple."
And he disappeared.
Hong Chinjin knew her destiny; she herself had revealed it to her.
Even so, he ran to the edge of the mountain, from where the entire main sect could be seen. He wanted to see the temple in pieces, the believers massacred, and… those arrogant purebloods plunged into despair, facing something their influence couldn't control.
He didn't have to wait long.
In the darkness, a small flame ignited and, with greedy hunger, began to devour the temple. The screams reached him even across the great distance between the two locations, pleading for help from his superiors or from God himself.
Their calmed emotions were unleashed once again.
"God is dead…! HAHAHAHA, GOD IS DEAD, HE CAN'T ANSWER!!" She didn't know if her shout was heard, but the screams from the temple intensified. "God, hahaha! GOD DOESN'T EXIST!"
His eyes lit up with a burning madness as the flames consumed the source of all his suffering and evils.
And at no point did Hong Chinjin stop rejoicing.
---
For Morgana, it was ironic that her arrival coincided with a public execution, and precisely for betrayal of the faith she had come to annihilate.
Was the condemned man lucky, or was it the influence of the Path of Destiny?
It was intriguing. The boy didn't even believe in the Worthy Celestial; rather, he hated him. One less life to deal with, though one more or one less wouldn't make much difference. Perhaps he could amuse himself a little with him when it was all over.
But apart from that young human, there were no more intrigues. The servants of the Worthy Celestial were dying like moths in a fire.
She just had to stay still and observe.
Surrounded by flames, the Angel closed her eyes in boredom; no cry or plea from the heretics could stir her soul. At best, they were irritating, crying out for salvation but making no effort to attain it themselves.
The mission would be completed without a hitch, she was sure. The Lord should never have worried so much.
Her thoughts revealed her fragile equilibrium. Her disinterest in everything around her reflected the enormous divinity her body had accumulated after the ascension ritual.
Morgana remembered once again how her divinity had devoured her humanity after the ascension ritual. Only memories of the past managed to keep the vestiges of humanity alive within her, but they were so ephemeral that they couldn't prevent her from seeing all that was "boring" as mere insects that she could crush with her mere presence.
"So boring." Her amethyst eyes rested on the corpse of a boy about thirteen years old. Beside him, a younger girl wept, even as the flames threatened to engulf her. "If you stay there, you'll die like him."
She didn't know why he spoke to her. Perhaps it was those human emotions trying to surface.
"Why? WHY?! WE DIDN'T DO ANYTHING WRONG!" Her outcry echoed above the other shouts.
Even so, it did not seem to affect the cause of the destruction.
"When the gods fight, believers are never safe," he replied, his eyes devoid of emotion. "And... there's no better way to erase a god than to uproot the belief in him."
Having said this, the Angel turned and walked towards the center of the temple, ignoring the sobs of the girl, who was soon consumed by the raging fire.
Morgana looked up. Unlike the rest of the sect, the main building was still standing, as if daring the invaders to tear it down.
The Angel hesitated, wondering whether to leave it standing or tear it down with his own hands. In the end, he chose the former: it was better not to take any risks. If that building contained the seals of the Sefirot, it would be a disaster if they were broken by its destruction.
She wouldn't be able to cope with the consequences of that scenario.
Upon entering through the main door, the snow-haired Angel observed the extravagant decorations without flinching. If the believers dressed so ostentatiously, how could the temple of their God not be the same?
Before entering, he paused. Raising his gaze to the symbol of the Mysteries, carved in gold, an emblem whose new representative was his Lord, without a word, tentacles emerged from beneath his cloak and reached for the emblem, knocking it from its position and shattering it to pieces on the ground.
Morgana didn't bother to hide the tentacles escaping from beneath her cloak. She patiently traversed the corridors, scrutinizing every corner. The heretics unfortunate enough to cross her path instantly lost control upon seeing the tentacles scanning their surroundings.
Morgana already knew that the strongest warrior was just a Sequence 5. At that level, she couldn't even stand to look at his extensions.
The tour ended in front of a colossal door, where a man remained kneeling, motionless.
"Damn..." he managed to say, raising his gaze to her face.
—What does it feel like to be parasitized? What does it feel like to be crushed by a force you can never reach? —The questions fell without waiting for an answer.
"Damn Demon... God will not allow it..." Her voice trailed off.
"I'll say it once more: Tianzu, your god, is dead." As he spoke, he forced the man's body to its feet. "And soon he will suffer spiritual death, when no one remembers him. An echo of the past, forgotten. That is his fate."
His words were a death sentence. Instantly, the puppeteer's heart stopped beating, and the man fell to the ground just as his puppet had.
With his death, the last of the Heavenly Worthy One's core believers had perished. Only one final cleansing remained: to ensure that nothing who believed in Him remained alive.
"Goodbye, Ancient Lord of Mysteries," he whispered into the air, letting the words drift away among the walls of the only building still standing.
The Angel took a moment to reflect on his actions. He felt he had ended it too quickly; many heretics had embraced death easily. He should have tortured them more, made them feel in their own flesh the pain and powerlessness that the God they "so revered" had felt.
—...What would the Lord think?
He had created a river of blood with his own hands, and there was even a witness who seemed more fascinated than terrified. His humanity endured being part of an Angel King, for whom mortal lives held no value.
"The Lord won't like this," he said, looking away from the ruins, as if he felt a hint of shame.
She had a feeling that, upon his return, He would give her one of those long speeches about humanity, the importance of life, and the need to be true to oneself. Just like he used to do in the past, when they first met.She had a feeling that, upon his return, He would give her one of those long speeches about humanity, the importance of life, and the need to be true to oneself. Just like he used to do in the past, when they first met.
Memories flooded back to her, and her sinister smile softened into a serene expression.
"Yes, I do all this for a reason. Because, more than serving him, I wish to protect him." He closed his eyes. "Merlin, I expect your scolding when we meet again."
The Angel's soul trembled as the vestiges of humanity united and gained strength, returning to him some of the emotions that his divinity had swept away, and which now, little by little, receded.
Just
twelve hours. In that brief span, the entire sect that believed in Him was annihilated. The very restrictions Tianzu imposed on his followers to prevent rebellions paved the way for Morgana. With no divine beings to confront her, the Angel acted with impunity throughout the Western Continent, unopposed.
The sole survivor watched the Angel from afar.
Hong Chinjin didn't plan to approach, but he sensed that moving away wasn't a good idea.
When the fog of hatred and rejoicing dissipated, she realized that her cursed reality had disappeared in a matter of hours.
"So what am I supposed to do now?" he wondered.
"You could live your life," the Angel's voice sounded behind him, making him jump in fright.
"That would be too good to be true," he replied, recovering. "But...mmm...thank you for your kind deed."
She raised an eyebrow and her lips curved into a smile.
"Is a massacre 'good'?" Hong Chinjin smiled, with a deranged expression.
"It depends on whose blood it is," Morgana didn't contradict him. "Angel, what will you do now?"
She crossed her arms and answered him while her amethysts scanned her surroundings.
—Wait here. I have something to watch over, and I can't leave until someone opens the doors for me. Do you need anything?
"Whom do you serve?" he asked, with genuine curiosity.
Did other gods truly exist?
—I admire your courage in asking, and don't worry that I could kill you in a second—Her smile mixed amusement and interest—Really interesting.
"If you wanted me dead, I'd already be dead," was his analysis of his situation. "My intuition doesn't warn me of any danger."
"It's not worth killing you; you're much more fun alive." Hong Chinjin didn't know whether to take it as a compliment or an insult. "As for your question... I await my Lord, the Madman."
"A peculiar name," he admitted, suppressing any blasphemous thoughts. "Will it take long?"
—It depends on many circumstances.
-I see.
"Are you interested in changing your religion?" his voice was mocking again.
Hong Chinjin didn't understand the question; she should already know his thoughts on divinity.
—Worship a God?… No, I can no longer believe in deities.
Morgana only seemed more interested, completely ignoring the blasphemer in front of her.
"You haven't had much luck in life, have you?" he didn't deny it. "I propose a deal: spread the faith of my Lord among humans and, in return, I will help you on your mystical path."
The offer was tempting, but Hong Chinjin hesitated.
Can a non-believer preach a faith?
—As long as they don't find out, who cares?
From the gleam in her eyes and the warning of her spirituality, Hong Chinjin knew that it would be dangerous to give any answer other than a yes.
—… Deal.
He had nothing to lose anyway. And he couldn't deny that one of the few dreams he had left was to continue on his path; he wanted to see how far it would take him without reaching divinity.
"Good choice," the Angel congratulated, causing the young man to let out a relieved sigh.
And so, without the humans of the Western Continent noticing, the name of Tianzu gradually faded away, replaced by that of another god:
The Madman.
Notes: