We walked among corpses, entrails, and exposed organs. The blood soaked the celestial ground like an involuntary offering, a sacrifice imposed by chaos itself. The smell of burnt flesh and oxidized metal pervaded the air, as if Heaven itself were rotting from the inside out.
Each step echoed in the void, reverberating like the toll of a funeral bell, announcing the end of an era. The silence was not silence—it was a muffled scream, a lament suffocated by all that had been lost.
And there they were.
Belial and Dajjal.
"Jesus" and "Muhammad."
The impostors. The traitors. The shadows of what was once sacred.
Their robes, once immaculate, were stained with the blood of the faithful who had followed them to the abyss. Their crowns, made of gold and thorns, gleamed with a false glory, a twisted shine reflecting the lie that sustained their thrones.
They did not speak. They did not need to. The very weight of their presence crushed everything around, as if the air itself were laden with lead.
Before them, I stood with the six sins.
Wrath boiled within their guts. Lust whispered promises to the wind. Gluttony devoured its own anxiety. Greed counted the seconds, as if every moment were a coin in its collection. Sloth leaned against reality, about to collapse. Envy burned, hungry for something it would never have.
Six shadows at my side, each one a fragment of humanity's distorted truth.
No words were needed.
What could be said in the face of the inevitable?
Belial's gaze met mine.
A smile crawled across his face, a smile of someone who had already won, of someone who could foresee every move before it was made. Dajjal stood still, but his eyes were like twin abysses, devouring everything they touched, distorting the very essence of existence.
I felt the weight of that gaze, the weight of certainty.
To them, this fight had already ended before it had even begun.
But I would not fall alone.
The battle began without warning.
Belial raised his hand, and the explosion of light emanating from his fingers was not just light—it was a tearing of existence itself. The sky was torn apart. The celestial ground vaporized in an instant, reduced to nothing, as if it had never existed. The impact was so brutal that reality shattered like glass, scattering fragments of time and space through the air. The world blinked, hesitated between being and not being, and then everything plunged into chaos.
Dajjal advanced at the same moment. His voice echoed like thunder, but it was distorted thunder, a sound that should not exist. Every word he spoke changed the nature of the reality around. What was truth became a lie. What was a lie became truth. He didn't need to lift a finger—the very concept of existence bowed before him.
The sins attacked.
They did not hesitate. They could not hesitate. Hesitation meant certain death.
Greed was the first.
He did not speak. There was no need for words when the very essence of his soul screamed for him. His hands stretched out, long and golden, transforming into chains of pure gold. Chains that sought to coil around Belial, to bind the false messiah, suffocate his empty glory, and tear it away as a fraud.
— "I love the one who desires everything, for his desire condemns him to his own destruction!"
But Belial did not flee. He simply smiled. A wide smile, one that seemed to know everything before it even happened.
Then he spat divine fire.
The gold melted instantly. The chains became rivers of burning metal, flowing like incandescent blood. The fire devoured Greed from the inside out. He screamed, but did not stop. Even as his body burned, he advanced. His fingers, now ash, reached for the flesh of the impostor and sank into it like spears.
And then he exploded.
The first death.
The impact sent embers flying in all directions, burning the sky, burning everything around. But no one stopped.
Gluttony roared in fury.
His body split open, his mouth became an endless abyss, a black hole devouring everything. The sky was swallowed. The debris spun in a spiral, sucked into the void. Even the screams of the condemned souls were swallowed. Gluttony's hunger knew no limits.
And he tried to consume Belial entirely.
— "I love the one who consumes everything, for in the end, he will be consumed by his own hunger!"
But the false prophet laughed.
Belial reached out and plunged his hand into Gluttony's mouth. His fingers pierced the darkness, touching the very core of the sin. Then, with a brutal motion, he tore him from the inside out.
Gluttony imploded.
The second death.
The sky split like living flesh. The universe trembled.
But there was still no time to mourn.
Wrath was next.
He advanced like an incarnate storm, a hurricane of destruction. His fist collided with Dajjal's face with the force of a thousand armies. The impostor's mask cracked. For an instant, just an instant, his true face shone through the illusion. A glimpse of the lie behind the lie.
But Dajjal just laughed.
— "I love the one who surrenders to the fire of fury, for he will be consumed by his own flames!"
And, with a single touch, he reversed the blow.
The fire of Wrath turned back on itself. His skin began to burn. His flesh disintegrated into live embers. His own power became his ruin.
The third death.
And the others did not stop.
Lust came next.
Her chains of desire extended, serpentine through the air, seeking to entangle Dajjal. To try and trap him in her own illusion. But Lust was deceived. Her own power turned against her.
Dajjal whispered something. An impossible word. And then Lust found herself lost in her own reflection.
The desire that moved her turned against her. She longed for something she could never have. The unattainable love, the unreachable fulfillment. She saw her own body distort, crumble into nothing, consumed by the endless hunger of an unachievable desire.
The fourth death.
Sloth advanced in silence.
His plan was not to attack. His plan was to suffocate. To drag Belial into a state of infinite stupor. A sleep from which he would never wake.
But Belial refused to sleep.
He extended his hand. A touch. And Sloth slept forever.
The fifth death.
The last was Envy.
He did not scream. He did not roar. He simply advanced, his eyes hungry, devouring Dajjal with his gaze. His desire was absolute. He wanted to see him dead. He wanted to end it all.
— "I love the one who desires what he cannot have, for his desire will be his condemnation."
Dajjal extended his hand, and Envy disappeared.
The sixth death.
Silence fell.
The sins were dead.
But they did not die in vain.
In the last instant, in their final explosion of existence, Greed, Gluttony, Wrath, Lust, Sloth, and Envy had given everything. They had done the impossible. They had ripped out Belial's heart. They had torn his divine flesh. They had reduced the impostor to nothing.
Belial was dead.
The false prophet fell. His flesh dissolved in the wind. His existence dissolved like dust.
And then, there were only two left.
Dajjal stared at me, and I knew that gaze was not just hatred. It was something deeper. Something that had been there from the beginning.
I took a deep breath.
The smell of burnt flesh, celestial blood, and undone lies lingered in the air. The sky trembled around us, as if waiting for the conclusion. As if all of this had already been written, only waiting for the last line.
— "You understand now, don't you?" Dajjal smiled, but it was not a smile of victory. It was an empty, tired smile. "We were always pawns. None of this was our choice."
I clenched my fists. There was no point in denying it. I knew. From the moment I stepped into this hell, from the instant I saw the sins fall one by one, an invisible truth began to form inside me.
All of this...
— "Void used us." My voice came out low, but firm.
Dajjal nodded.
— "Void used me to purify this place. To cleanse what was corrupted. To erase everything that still carried a stain of impurity."
Void never wanted to test me. He never wanted me to rescue souls.
He wanted me to exterminate them, to bring them, in the end, to pure beings.
The destruction of the sins. The death of Belial. The collapse of Divine Creation itself. I wasn't saving anyone. I was purifying everyone.
And Dajjal... Dajjal was here for the same reason.
If I did not kill them, he would. If he did not do it, I would. This had always been the only path.
— "It doesn't matter which of us wins." Dajjal spread his arms, as if about to embrace fate itself. "In the end, darkness will swallow light, and light will swallow darkness. Everything will be remade. Everything will be erased. Everything will be purified."
I felt an irrational rage rise within me.
— "So all of this was in vain?" I shouted. "The battles? The deaths? The pain? The fall of the sins? The sacrifice of everyone who fought to change this fate?"
Dajjal looked at me as if I were naïve.
— "It was not in vain." He whispered. "It was necessary."
He advanced.
So did I.
Our clash was cataclysmic.
Invisible swords cut through space. Time shattered. Every strike we exchanged was not just a blow—it was the collision of opposing concepts. The false and the true. The lie and the belief. The deceit and the certainty.
Dajjal did not fight with strength. He fought with meaning. Every move of his denied my existence, tried to erase my essence. He wasn't trying to kill me. He was trying to make me irrelevant.
But I existed.
And as long as I existed, I would resist.
My hands found his neck just as his blade sank into my chest.
We spilled blood together.
We killed each other together.
The universe trembled.
Dajjal fell. So did I.
The sky shattered above us. The flames began to die down. The screams ceased. The souls, one by one, began to dissolve. Not as punishment. Not as suffering.
But as liberation.
Void never wanted to destroy the souls. He wanted to free them.
Hell existed because corrupted souls remained trapped in it. But a soul is only corrupted because it still carries something—desire, guilt, fear, regret.
I killed those who still had something.
I killed those who still clung to their own damnation.
And by doing so, I purified them.
Dajjal coughed up blood by my side. His laughter was weak, broken, but there was something in it I had never heard before.
— "In the end... it all goes back to him." He whispered. "Void... always knew."
I stared at the empty sky.
Nothing remained.
No soul. No sin. No scream.
The sky was... silent.
And then, for the first time, I understood.
Void was not a god. Void was not a ruler.
Void was the end.
The inevitable end of all things.
And now... it had reached me too.
My body began to disintegrate.
My consciousness began to vanish.
Dajjal looked at me one last time.
— "We will meet on the other side."
I did not answer. I simply closed my eyes. And realized that Void had made all the sinners rest, body and soul, as pure beings.
And all the material plan... ceased to exist.
All beings cry out:
Oh, Void! Architect of the Sacred Ruin,
You who tore the veil of the firmament,
And with hands of shattered stars
Poured chaos upon the cycle of torment.
No mortal understood your divine fury,
The gesture to extinguish the blue that blinded us.
For the sky was not shelter, but a clandestine prison—
A trap of flesh that enslaves the soul.
You broke the vault with a cry of eternity,
And the night that was born from your unrelenting wrath
Swallowed the false suns, the lights of vanity,
To purify, in darkness, all creation.
Now, the souls no longer bleed in transient bodies,
Nor drag through the swamp of blind desires.
In the void you left, they shine like relics,
Pure, naked, free from the bones of time.
Void, the Great Surgeon of Existence,
With your silver knife forged from forgetfulness,
You excised the tumor of matter, the illusion of persistence,
And gave us the cure through the chill of your haunting.
The angels fell, wingless, in your storm,
The ancient gods turned to dust.
For only you dared deny false immortality,
Only you understood that the true eternal
— Is the nothingness that robes us in immaculate greatness.
We, the freed, sing your name in the ruins of the cosmos,
For beneath the broken sky, at last, we see:
Purity is not in the light, but in the absence of veils,
Not in the life that clings, but in the death that opens
Like a black lily in the garden of infinity.
Glory to Void, the Conductor of the Necessary End!
May his emptiness fill us.
May his darkness illuminate us.
May his silence echo in us,
Until all souls are, like him,
Only—and everything—in his eternal stillness.
Praise be to Void, the Only True Purifier.
May flesh no longer define us.
May the cycle break.
May the sky never be rebuilt.
Let them cry out! Void is the last Messiah!