Chapter 1: A Wretched Being
[When does a human become wretched?
The answer is simple-- it is when they fall into despair, then that's when the cycle of hate begins.]
The crimson sky, a perpetual eclipse blotting out sun and moon, bled across a landscape of charred ruins. Beneath it, a boy knelt, clutching the lifeless form of a hazel-haired girl. Her ashen eyes, wide in their finality, mirrored the despair that clawed at his soul. This was the beginning. The first crack in the porcelain mask of humanity, revealing the abyss within.
[There are 5 parts of the cycle of hatred]
[It begins when a person loses something, or someone precious to them.]
He gasped, a broken marionette, his body a symphony of tremors. The silence stretched, a suffocating shroud, until a choked scream escaped, raw and agonizing. "Why? Why did this happen? Why, God… why?"
[The second part of this cycle is when the person loses the last bit of their sanity, being consumed entirely by the lost of hope which inevitably-- falls into question and hatred towards the deity they believed in.]
A person approaches the boy, a figure, cloaked in white and shadow, remained impassive. The boy's pleas, a desperate litany of "Why?", echoed unanswered.
"Why? Why did this happen? Why did you do this? I- I don't understand, God...why? What's your reason for such actions?"
His questions, naive yet profound, pierced the cosmic indifference. He sought answers, a reason for the cruelty, a justification for the void that consumed him. He sought solace in faith, only to find it a cruel mockery.
His sanity fractured. The rules of the world, the comforting certainties, shattered like the broken houses around him. He clawed for understanding, for meaning in the senseless tragedy. He questioned his own sins, his own worthiness of such suffering. But the answer remained elusive, a phantom whispering in the wind.
"I don't understand-... I don't get it, why, why...?" The boy repeated his words, as if he was a broken radio.
"Why? Why? Why? Why?! Why?!!"
"Why do this?! I don't understand! I don't understand! I don't-- hic-! I don't understand..."
[Eventually, the person loses their senses, forgetting about the rules of the world to never try to pry into God's reasons.]
[The third one, the person tries to understand even more further for what reasons the incidents in their life happens, for what purpose it is, for what sins have they done to deserve this.]
"D- Did i do something wrong? What sin have i committed to deserve such thing?" The boy asked blankly to the person before him, but still to no response.
Finally, the boy couldn't hold it back anymore, he rushed to stand up, carefully placing the body of the girl at the side and wanted to grasp the cloth of the person
A cruel force repelled him, throwing him amidst the ruins. His leg impaled, pain a searing brand, yet his desperate crawl towards the girl continued. His vision blurred, his body failing, but his spirit, fueled by a desperate love, refused to yield. Then, the figure approached the girl's body. His last hope extinguished.
"Ahh--..." He wanted to scream, but his voice now turned hoarse from the previous screams he made that was too painful.
Tears gradually streamed down his face, this time, his tears were covered in blood from the small wound that appeared in his eyes.
I don't get it, why...why is God so cruel?
Just why--...did he have to take away the remaining precious person to me?
All he wishes now is for him to reach the girl.
But even that was cruelly rejected.
"Please, no! No! I beg you!"
"Please..."
Don't take any more from me.
Before he knew it, darkness claimed him. Upon awakening, he was alone, the girl gone, his leg numb and cold. His breaths shallow, his body ravaged. He knew, with a chilling certainty, that it was over. But the finality of death was not the end. It was only the beginning of something far more terrifying.
"Hic! God, answer me...what have i done to deserve this?"
...only silence enveloped him.
His ashen eyes blazed with a hellish crimson fire. The despair morphed, hardening into a consuming hatred. "God! I demand an answer!"
Silence. A deafening, mocking silence. His tears dried, replaced by a burning rage. He ripped the wood from his leg, the pain a mere whisper against the tempest of his fury. His body, miraculously mending itself, reflected the metamorphosis within. Crimson lines traced his face, his fangs elongated, his hair aflame with the color of the cursed sky.
[The fourth part of the cycle is when the person's emotions were too much that they will suddenly disappear, turning into a single emotion that will drive their sense of purpose]
The boy clenched his fist so hard that his palms started to bleed from his nails piercing it.
"I see... I understand now..."
"God."
"Remember this, i swear until the very last breath i am breathing-!"
"I will kill you! I will kill you! I'll kill you!!"
"I'll make you kneel before me, beg for mercy just like me, and make you suffer the same pain i did!"
"I swear, i will be the heavenly sword of justice that kills you! Even if it means becoming the devil, i shall kill you!"
This was the culmination. The transformation. The birth of a wretched one. He swore vengeance, a promise etched in blood and fire. He would become the instrument of his own justice, a heavenly sword forged in the fires of despair. He would make God kneel and beg for mercy.
[And the fifth and final part of the cycle of hate, which is also known as the Path of the Wretched, is when the person is finally driven by their thirst of implementing the same pain of the person that gave him that exact agony.]
"I will kill you! In the name of vengeance and karma I swear i will kill you!"
But even in his rage, a chilling truth remained. His vengeance was a mask, a desperate attempt to fill the void left by loss. He sought purpose, not justice. He sought meaning, not retribution. He was, in the end, no different from the deity he cursed. Selfish, driven by the insatiable hunger of his own pain. A wretched being, lost in the labyrinth of his own making. A pawn in a cosmic game of cruelty, forever bound to the cycle of hatred, forever alone.
[This was just a mere illusion, a facade of their true sense of loneliness and pain that they will hide it in the form of vengeance when all along, it is just for them to find purpose.]
[In the end, humans are undoubtedly still the same.]
[They are nothing more than just selfish pricks who only cares for themselves.]
[All of these-- was just the same direction, the same outcome, and the same fate of the Path of the Wretched.]