Amo vincit omnia

 

The book's seal had been broken. Black parchment with pristine white letters. Color: black. A sign of mystery and all kinds of knowledge. Its owner became obsessed with its properties. Very rarely did anyone manage to free themselves from it. The letters seemed to be the symbols of ancient peoples. Knowledge contained within the pages, knowledge that brings death and shame. Soaked in blood, history upon history. The future. Revealed in only one word: Death. A book bound in leather. The skin of a man. A child, a youth, a man, and an old man of one family and one blood. Hard cover, beaten, ground, and made of bone. Page one with small print: "Seeking answers, you seek the nonexistent." A mystery is only a mystery when no one knows it. Page two, in slightly larger letters: "You seek the found, you desire what is yours." Love is fear, faith only hope. Page three: "You are beautiful, seek no greater work than yourself." You will depart, but your memory will remain. Page four, titled: "Desire, Revenge, and Deception." You don't know why you exist, you don't believe in this time and this place, you don't know what you'll eat for breakfast tomorrow, you don't.

He rose from the armchair. With a stain of the previous owner. A stain around the circle. A circle around the spear. The spear around the armchair, blood, and owner. Astonished by the book, he walked to the window. He looked at the wall half a meter away. Painted on it were the sky, the ocean, and the unreachable horizon, without clouds, without land, without ships. The depth of the emptiness was depressing. He looked around. An empty room, cluttered, littered, and buried in dust and dirt. A corpse not worth spitting on. And he. A soldier, with the rank of major. He hated this job, sending his troops into battle every day. In whose name did he go? Pride, Possessiveness, and Career. Cursed, like everyone else, like him. A common servant of the Seven Deadly Sins, an enemy of the Ten Commandments. A murderer and a destroyer; an obedient puppet in the hands of the Lord of the Earth. Sent for a worthless volume that would henceforth be the property of Greed. A trivial mission, a trivial battle, a trivial siege, a trivial twelve thousand vaporizations on every side. He knew, he saw the young, beautiful lady… her blue eyes with pupils as black as the abyss, her ebony hair falling loosely along her body. Her smile, the smile of Death at the sight of the soldiers surrounding her marching into battle. She was beautiful. He smiled at the memory. But he pushed that flicker of joy away, a small joy, that was not a soldier's trait, that was not part of his task. He set the box against the wall. He waited. The small box opened, and the blue mist escaping formed a mirror. He mentally uttered the appropriate formula. And within it appeared a figure, a downright disgusting monster, a fat, bloated, and sweat-stinking ghost named Gluttony.

"Who are you to dare disturb me?" a raspy, bass voice boomed.

"Forgive me, Lord, humble servant of the Shadow. I only wish to inform you of the completion of my task and the acquisition of the book."

"Why did it take so long? I am trash, you know?

" "Yes, sir. "

"Send me the book.

" "Yes, sir."

"IMMEDIATELY ." "Now, Lord." This monster, this substitute for all that is good, has departed. Filled with selfishness and consumed by Envy. I was once an angel. I served my former Creator. The battle against him is lost, but I fight, I fight against him and this Woman. I will take control of humanity, and my superiors will help me in this, may they be cursed. The seven deadly sins. My masters. And the earth, the blue planet, my lord's kingdom. The center of struggle, and the place of the final battle. I saw it being built, I knew the construction plan long before the Big Bang, as human scientists say. A wonderful plan of creation. Everything is in order, but I am here to sow confusion and fear. Hidden, I will give power, I will give egoism, I will give satisfaction, let them think they have won, that they have defeated me. Your souls, my property, esotericists, magicians calling themselves Satanists, sorcerers, soothsayers, fortune tellers, murderers, rapists, pedophiles, and other friends of mine, I will give you whatever you ask for, the price will be higher than any of you realize. You don't yet know what eternity is, you don't even know what a century is; in your suffering, it will be but the blink of an eye. Let this be for my glory, I will kill you all. You wretches will still believe you have any power over me. Your weak minds believe they can seize control of something that doesn't live in time. I hate you, and I hate the light. I will destroy anyone who shows even the slightest weakness. I am patient, I will nurture you, and I will plow through your every sin. My weapons will help me in this. The helmet of pain, the armor of fear, the sword of selfishness, the shield of powerlessness, the greaves of hatred. My victory over each of you is a matter of time. Your short, precious time. Before you commit suicide, I will care for you, deepening every mistake, concealing every sin or elevating it to the level of a mortal sin. I will bestow upon you helplessness or certainty of my power. You will be my tools; I will show you how to foretell the future, how to cast spells and charms, I will show you how to kill in every way: through touch, through words, through food and substances. From beyond your existence on earth, I promise you wealth, power, friends, knowledge; I will destroy every being that stands in your way. For I have power, which I will gladly share. I will enter you, possess you, and feed on your stupidity. Anyone who doesn't know I am the Liar, or is under the protection of the light, will be mine. They will be just another number on my ruler's list; let them be cursed.

I've been summoned again... I'll be attending an execution again. Who am I to be treated this way? The arena... semicircular, high. At its bottom, sand is evenly distributed, and a table is placed on it. Covered with a black cloth. This table, however, is no ordinary one. It has clamps for all the limbs of its client. I sit comfortably. In my high armchair, leather back, gilded oak armrests. Marble footstool. To my left, the council of the highest. May they be cursed. Pride, Greed, Lust, Envy, Gluttony, Wrath, and Sloth. Their seven conditions here. Unlimited power over the earth and all that lies upon it. Masters of lies and hypocrisy. Pristinely impure. I turn my head to the right. The council of the weaker. All the lesser spirits, Drunkenness, Lies, Envy, and their henchmen. Special guests on the balconies hovering above the arena. They hide their faces, too terrifying. They will reveal their faces at the end of time. They will show on earth what hunger, war, and death mean.

The crowd howled, and the Guardian Angel was brought into the arena. This scum is now in our hands. I wonder, in truth, what surprises they have prepared for him. Our entertainment; our toy; how many times we managed to possess some dust or ashes. We took away his guardian if we could. I love torture; apparently, if you try hard enough, you can cause him to lose his memory. He won't even remember who he was supposed to protect on earth. And in its place, pain will take its place. Never before has one of them managed to renounce their creator, but he's working on it. How I hate them.

But that's why he's chained to this cold tabletop. Oh, what joy. They didn't use standard belts, but nails to prevent him from thrashing about. His pain and that still smoldering hope were honey to my ears. I had already taken care of this Angel. Yes, for a special moment, just him and me, plus a few other helpers. We tied his wrists behind his back. We ran the rope that tied him through the ceiling beam. We lifted him slowly and steadily. Once his hands touched the beam, we lowered him at full speed. He flew two or three meters without hitting the ground. He was stopped by a violent jerk a few centimeters above the ground. What beautiful sounds he made, specifically his bones breaking: wrist, elbow, joints, and shoulders. I love the sound of the crunching bones and the screams of the victims giving him up. We did this to him several times, and when we determined he had no chance of moving his arms, we moved on to his legs.

When I was on Earth, I worked on a certain inquisitor… wonderful people. And their naivety made me reflect on their stupidity. I did everything I could to make sure they never stumbled upon the words: "Overcome evil with good." My reign was miraculous. And from this member of the Holy Office, I learned a trick. I decided to try it again. Spanish boots, a wonderful invention; you slipped your foot between four boards, making it impossible to move. Screws were placed in two side openings. They were screwed into the ankles, done as slowly as possible, so that the victim could feel every movement of the metal as it twisted into the flesh. Lucky me if this didn't give me satisfaction. Then, when the victim was forbidden to move in any way, they were put to the test in the main arena.

I returned from my memories just as the victim's initiation was ending. Now came the main part. It consisted of rituals: severing the left leg above the knee, the left arm above the elbow, and cutting out the nose, tongue, right arm, and leg. The victim was not allowed to faint, but if they did, the ritual was interrupted to revive them. When they showed signs of consciousness, the procedure continued. The Angel was not allowed to bleed out; the wounds were bandaged and secured. After the operation was completed, when everyone was satisfied with the amount of blood, he was taken to the Hall of Time. As he was carried out, the echo of his screams still echoed around the arena. Although I regretted that he hadn't been given the Bloody Maternity. Something like an umbrella would be inserted into his anus, which opened in the middle, creating a mess in the abdominal cavity.

In the Hall of Time, while the wounds healed, he was placed under a canopy. There, in a moderate, monotonous manner, water would fall drop by drop onto the top of his head. When a prisoner began to go mad and kept the guard awake (and he was a very light sleeper) with his moans, he was given the Little Eye. The victim wasn't deliberately blinded or deafened. The Little Eye involved surgically removing the eyelids without damaging the eyes. Such a person couldn't sleep, unable to close their eyes; everything irritated them, especially dust particles that landed on their conjunctiva. Eventually, the very long end, the victim went blind. In any case, their ears were always left intact, and into those ears were stuffed the blasphemies, lies, and stories of their predecessors. And the water kept dripping, digging a hole in their head.

After many days, the wounds more or less healed, and the victim was sent back to the arena. I was there too. I saw the creature. It was obvious it refused to eat. But there was a solution to that too. A tube was pushed through the mouth, down the esophagus, and into the stomach, where the food was poured. He looked wretched, yet so… wonderful. Toothless, hairless, blind, and mute. Time had come for her.

He was placed on the same table, but now it was clear what would happen, oh well, it was always the same. Boring, even, namely, his stomach was cut open and molten lead was slowly poured in. Of course, before this happened, he was told what would happen, and then his ears were cut off as well. How ridiculously he waved his stumps in the air, I regret that I cannot revel in this sight over and over again. And so, slowly, the prisoner's story ended, until the lead ran out. An orgasm for my eyes.

I have received a mission. I must appear on Earth. I have a purpose, another weak little man on my list.

I am. My poor man, you are nothing. But what is confusing your mind? What, don't do this, what's the point? Stay where you're going? Not to church, what are you doing, you fool? Come back to me, I'll give you what you want. The bars of the confessional. NO. You're running away from me.

What clarity is this? I'm afraid.

"Who are you?"

"I am the Holy Spirit.

You're killing me!!!… who is that angel behind you? I know you. You were in the arena. How could that be?"

A flaming sword swipe, the demon only tried to dodge, but he saw entire sentences on the angel's face. He guessed them before they evaporated, and they read:

I forgive you, love conquers. God is great and almighty, conquers everything and everyone. You will never hurt any of my loved ones again. Not one of the sheep will be devoured by you again. For the Lord is with them.

Hallelujah."