Like most stories do, this one starts off small.
He was young.
Still just a kid who had barely gained self conscious and object permanence.
As such, he was also only capable of doing small things, and small crimes.
Such as stealing a single piece of candy from a candy store.
He wasn’t very good at it, and he got caught and he ended up crying.
Of course, they let him off with just a lecture, after all, he was just a small kid.
Can’t really blame a small kid of that age for not understanding what he did was a crime.
It wasn’t his fault.
He was just too young.
But no one stays young and innocent forever.
Eventually, he grew up, learned common sense and the ability to tell right from wrong.
He grew up to be quite big and healthy, despite his rather “unhealthy” environment.
His stepfather was a heavy alcoholic, and not someone that would be considered as nice.
His mother didn’t really care for him, in fact, she actively despised his existence.
“It’s all your fault… if only you were never born!”
He was the result of an affair his mother had while engaged, when she was found pregnant, her fiancée broke up with her, leaving her to the streets.
His very existence tore apart his family before he could even be considered a living being.
But he couldn’t be blamed.
Afterall, it’s not his fault for being conceived.
He didn’t do anything wrong.
Though, that didn’t stop his stepfather from beating him.
After he was born, his mother brought home a random man, not even his real father, and married him.
That man became his stepfather.
He wasn’t a very nice man.
Drank all day.
Yelled all day.
Hung out with bad people.
But his stepfather paid the bills and fed the family.
He was fed and given a bed to sleep, so he was content with what he had despite everything.
The same couldn’t be said for his mother, who seemed to go more insane and miserable every day that passed.
Things weren’t much better outside of home either.
He lived in that wrong side of the neighborhood, where anything goes.
As he grew up like this, he wasn’t fazed by much.
This was his norm.
Until one day, something out of the norm happened.
He got home after school like any other day, his stepfather still drunk on the couch watching tv and his mother crying in the kitchen.
As he headed to his room, his mother grabbed him and started hitting him.
She was drunk and not in her right mind, wailing and screaming about how much she hated him as she repeatedly bashed her hands into his body.
This happened often so he wasn’t bothered and it didn’t even hurt, but he was tired and wanted to quickly leave so he pushed her away.
However, he accidentally used too much strength doing so.
His mother’s fragile and skinny body was flung backwards.
Her head smashed into the kitchen counter and bounced off, flopping lifelessly to the ground.
Blood slowly oozing out of her motionless body.
She was dead.
His stepfather had entered the kitchen to see what the noise was and witnessed everything.
His stepfather immediately sobered up as his stepfather slowly headed towards the door.
No doubt that his stepfather would rat him out, that bastard didn’t care for him at all.
His body moved before he could think about what he was doing.
He quickly grabbed a knife off the kitchen counter and dash forward, thrusting it at his stepfather’s neck.
Before he knew it, he was covered in blood, and there were two bodies in the house.
He had done the irreversible.
He had killed his parents.
But he didn’t mean to, it was by complete accident.
His mother was technically the one who attacked him first, it was all in self defense.
His parents were awful people, the worst of the worst. With how his parents lived their lives, it was only a matter of time before something like this happened.
So it wasn’t his fault.
He couldn’t be blamed.
In fact, you could say he did society a favor.
But he knew the authorities wouldn’t care.
If he was caught, he’d be thrown behind bars.
His life would be over before it even started.
He couldn’t allow this to happen.
He had planned to move out and live his own life after becoming an adult, he couldn’t allow it to be ruined because of this.
So he chopped up the corpses of his parents.
He needed to get rid of these bodies.
Burying them would be too obvious and all other options would likely get him caught.
By chopping these bodies into smaller chunks, he would be able to more easily dispose of them.
He hid the chopped-up pieces in a fridge and slowly overtime got rid of individual chunks by feeding them to stray animals.
It was going well.
The corpse was almost entirely gone and just when he thought he was safe…
The police showed up at his door.
They were here to investigate his stepfather for getting involved with illicit substances.
What bad luck.
His stepfather wasn’t available.
He had no choice but to let them in and investigate the house.
Ah, what bad luck indeed.
Bad luck that these poor innocent cops had to die.
It wasn’t their fault, they were just doing their jobs as police men.
And it wasn’t his fault for killing them either since if they found the dead bodies, his life would be over.
It was basically just self defense… with extra steps.
So definitely not something that could’ve been avoided, and he can’t be blamed for bad luck.
But now he had truly entered a dark path.
Unlike his parents, who were useless no-good scum that contributed nothing to society, if cops were to go missing… people would definitely notice.
He had to leave.
Living on the run.
It wouldn’t be a good life, but it’d be better than living in a cage.
As he left, he burned down the house.
The night sky bright with a reddish orange glow as smoke bellowed up into the sky.
He left everything behind.
From now on, he’s a different man.
After what he did, he can’t live a normal life anymore.
Likely wanted by the authorities for murder, he has to live a life constantly on the run and hiding.
But the first thing he needed was money.
Afterall, it’s everything you need to survive in modern society.
However he couldn’t just get a job and earn money, he’d be arrested the moment he showed up for a job interview.
So he resorted to theft.
He didn’t have any other choice though.
A wanted kid like him had no connections and couldn’t even earn money properly.
He can’t be blamed for being forced into this life.
He stole to make his living.
He survived off of what he could take from others.
He got caught several times doing it, but he managed to escape.
He learned from his failures and got better.
Thievery.
Violence.
Deception.
Blackmail.
These were necessary for his survival.
And he got good doing so.
It was at this point where he was noticed by a group of certain people.
Bad people.
The type of people that your parents would tell you to stay away from.
But he was already one of them. A bad person that is.
So when they reached out to him, he joined them.
These people were no ordinary bad people, they were an organization.
A big one.
Influential.
Powerful and wealthy.
The organization’s authority was great and to prove it, they cleaned his criminal record.
His crimes disappeared in a single day.
All because he worked for the right people.
His life was good.
His pay was even better.
All he had to do was beat up a few people, threaten a few families, kidnap a child… sometimes murder a person or two, hide a body, nothing he hadn’t done before.
The more miserable he made other people’s lives, the better his became.
But you can’t blame him for doing all that, after all, the world’s a tough place.
And in such a world, anything goes.
He was just trying to make a living.
This was his job.
Nothing personal, and no blood on his hands.
He simply did as he was told, and when he was paid.
He rarely did anything of his own volition.
He never went out to watch movies, he didn’t go out and eat expensive food, he didn’t interact with people unnecessarily, he just did the bare minimum to live a moderate life.
However, there is one exception to this.
His pet rock.
He valued it more than his own life.
He never went anywhere without it.
He brushed it everyday, ensuring its cleanliness and health.
He would stare in awe at his rock every single day for hours on end, basking in its glory.
It was a beautiful rock.
A rock that you would see on the ground, pick it up and toss and catch a few times before saying to yourself, “this is a good rock.”
The rock had saved his life.
One day he was in a tough spot and was being chased by several armed men.
He ran into an alley to recover.
As he did so, he stepped on a rock and slipped.
The moment his body fell, a bullet flew straight over his head.
He hid behind a trash can and picked up the rock.
It was big and heavy, yet still the perfect size to fit in his palm.
It was calling to him.
He could hear its voice speaking to his soul.
His body moved according to the rock’s will.
He killed the men chasing after him.
They were armed to the teeth with guns and blades, but they were nothing when a rock smashed through their skulls.
He was saved by the rock.
If not for that rock, he’d be dead.
Some say it was by pure coincidence, but he truly believes that the rock possessed a will of its own and saved him.
From that day on, he adopted the rock as his pet.
It meant everything to him.
More important than family.
More fulfilling than a lover.
More meaningful than any ambition.
More gratifying than all the glory or wealth a man can achieve.
That was what his pet rock meant to him.
He cared for it oh so dearly.
No matter where he went or what he did, he always brought his pet rock along with him because of course, he couldn’t bear not having it with him at all times.
But that was his mistake.
People started noticing this rock, this oh so special rock that he cared for so much.
It ended up being his weakness.
While he was doing his job one day, crushing a couple skulls, his rock was stolen from him.
Using it as hostage, he was kidnapped and beaten up.
With his life slowly fading out, they destroyed his pet rock in front of his very eyes.
The sound of it shattered echoed through his entire body.
Parts of the rock flew in all directions as he just watched… unable to do anything…
The one thing he had ever cared for… was gone.
His world was shattered.
The one thing he cared for was taken away by those wretched people.
So he killed their entire family.
Almost as if his body was no longer bound by physical limits, he tore straight out of his bindings and tore those rock murderer’s limbs off.
But he didn’t kill them.
Killing them would be too easy.
They had to suffer the same pain he felt.
He dragged his half dead bodies to their own apartments and houses… and killed their entire family in front of their eyes.
These people had destroyed the one thing he loved, so it’s only fair he did the same.
He did nothing wrong, he just did back to them what was done to him.
An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.
They started it.
They had no one to blame except themselves.
But unfortunately, not everyone seemed to think the same.
The wife of one of the men whom he got revenge on was the daughter of a very wealthy and powerful man.
One that rivalled the organization he was employed at.
What he did sparked conflict and led to a factional war.
Even with all his achievements over the years and trust that his boss had in him, it still wasn’t enough to make up for what he had done.
However, his boss gave him a job to redeem himself.
His orders were to go meet up with the other faction’s leader and negotiate.
It was a chance for him to fix his mistake of causing this conflict.
It seemed fair enough, so he accepted the job.
But upon arriving at the meeting, he was immediately surrounded and ambushed by dozens of armed men.
It was a trap.
He was tricked.
This wasn’t a second chance given to him to clean up his mistake, this was his boss’s decision to sacrifice him to the other faction.
They decided he wasn’t worth the trouble anymore, so they threw him away, letting him die to stop the conflict.
He was betrayed by his own boss and organization.
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He wasn’t exactly loyal to them, but he did feel some gratitude towards them for accepting him and giving him a job.
It was also because of them that he met his pet rock…
But now… now that feeling is gone.
No gratitude towards an organization that uses and throws him aside like a tool.
Any care for this world remaining in his heart after his pet rock was destroyed fizzled away into nothing.
This was his boss’s fault.
This is the entire organization’s fault.
They set him up.
They knew this was going to happen, didn’t they?
They purposely manipulated him and caused all this…
They were probably even the ones who conspired to destroy his pet rock!
They will pay for this.
It’s all their fault, and he’ll make sure they get what they deserve.
But before he could do so, he was still surrounded by dozens of armed men, completely outnumbering him.
They had no intention on letting him go.
But he too had no intention on letting them go.
They charged at him and attacked him with full intent to kill.
He was shot.
He was stabbed.
He was slashed.
Guns. Bullets. Swords. Crowbars. Bats.
He had been hit by hundreds of attacks all over him… and yet no fatal wounds.
None of the attacks managed to reach deep into his body.
They only barely pierced through his skin.
It was almost as if his body was as hard as… a rock.
He was unarmed, but he needed no weapon.
He raised his fist, clenching it as tight as a rock, and smashed in down, crumpling the poor man’s body like a crushed soda can.
They kept swinging their weapons and shooting their shooters, but nothing could stop his rampage.
He did not dodge anything, he just simply kept punching and ripping apart anything in his path.
Until there was no one left alive.
At least, that was in this room.
He wasn’t done just yet.
The ones who caused all this are still alive, probably living in massive hotels with their shit loads of money.
He still has a job to do.
He would kill those fuckers who caused all this.
Body completely covered in blood, he marched his way straight towards the addresses of the boss of both factions that had been at conflict.
Goons and bodyguards stood in his path, trying to stop his advance, but they were insignificant.
He killed them all.
No mercy, not even those who tried running away, or those pleading for their life.
It’s their fault for working for the evil people who destroyed his pet rock after all. They should’ve picked better jobs that didn’t contribute to the forces that destroyed his pet rock.
That day, two massive organizations with national wide influence… was completely annihilated.
The bosses of said organizations begged for their life, and even tried tricking him to spare them, but he would not fall for their lies again.
They would only backstab him the moment he turned away.
So it’s not his fault for killing them.
And like that, they suffered the punishment for their actions.
All that remained were… a lot of bodies. And a lot of blood. And organs laying around.
He didn’t even realize it since he was so blood lusted, but amongst the corpses were also bodies of random cops and bystanders as well.
They must’ve tried to stop him and suffered the same fate as the others.
Unfortunate, but too bad.
It was their fault for standing in his way.
He was tired now.
Covered from head to toe in blood and flesh.
He felt satisfied.
Seeing people get what they deserve felt amazing to him.
But that feeling quickly passed as he quickly realized he had nothing left to do.
The cops and military armed forces had surrounded the building he was currently in.
He was confident he could take them down and escape, but there was no reason to.
He had nothing left anyways.
So he raised his arms and turned himself.
To no one’s surprise, he got life in prison.
The only reason he didn’t immediately get the death sentence was because of how willing he was to cooperate during arrest and interrogation.
He had nothing to hide, so he confessed everything truthfully.
After going through many evaluations and examinations, they also concluded he suffered from mental illness.
The result of his crimes was a life imprisonment.
He would live the rest of his life behind bars, monitored and guarded 24/7.
Many years ago, prison was a place he feared and he had lived as a runaway child criminal to avoid it.
But that was because he was young and had a future to live for.
Now, he had nothing.
No lover.
No friends.
No ambitions.
No… pet rock.
He had no reason to avoid it.
It was his new home now.
It wasn’t too hard for him to adapt to life behind bars.
Honestly wasn’t much different from his job when he still worked for his organization.
He let himself get hit and beaten when needed, and he would fight back when needed.
The hard part was figuring out when to punch back or when to hold back.
But after several years of prison life, he got the hang of it.
He made a name for himself for those within the prison.
At first, the others ganged up on him, but they soon learned to fear him.
He wasn’t violent or aggressive, most of the time he would just coldly stare back while he was being attacked.
But when they saw what he was capable of doing, they realized they probably shouldn’t mess with him.
After that, it was basically peace and quiet for him.
Wasn’t a great life, his room was small and smelly, food was meh and there were a lot of strict rules and limitations.
But this was life.
No different from the life he had lived before.
He would even regularly go to therapy and rehabilitation.
His psychological assessment was going well, and his examiners deemed him to be mentally improving.
He felt… optimistic about living the rest of his life in here.
Nothing to worry about.
One day, his prison institution gave everyone options to sign up for religious services.
To attend a specialized church where a selected holy man would preach and teach to the prisoners.
He wasn’t a religious man, but he still decided to sign up.
Why not try out something new?
Prison life was pretty monotone so can’t hurt to mix it up a bit, even if he didn’t care about the teachings itself.
He started going to church for fun.
He didn’t really know what was going on but he just listened to what the guy on the podium was saying.
Something about god and Jesus or something.
Everyone attending was given a book called the bible that they could freely look through and read.
The man on the podium they call the priest began reading from this bible.
This bible was apparently filled with countless stories from that of a far-gone history and with teachings of old.
It was… interesting to him.
He had vaguely heard of this stuff before, but he never knew what it was about.
There were a lot of interesting stories in this bible, like how apparently the entire world was flooded and almost every died.
Or how this Jesus dude died and came back to life.
He wasn’t sure if this was real or not, but it sure was interesting.
He became more curious of this god stuff.
According to the priest, an almighty being known as God created everything.
This god is supposed to be all knowing, all loving and all powerful… it reminded him of his pet rock.
His pet rock must’ve been God.
What else could it have been if not a divine being?
He often looked at the sky, wondering if his rock was looking down at him from heaven.
He missed it so much, but he believed he would see his godly rock in the afterlife.
Every day that passed, he yearned for his death.
He couldn’t wait to die so he could meet his rock again.
He even considered killing himself so he could hurry it up and get to heaven, but the priest said suicide won’t let him meet his pet rock.
Sadly, he lived on as he anticipated the day he died.
Time passed, and he continued diligently going to church, learning about religion and hearing stories from the priest.
Eventually, he and the priest got quite friendly with each other.
He felt a strong sense of trust in the priest who had given him hope of reuniting with his rock.
So he did something that he thought he’d never do.
A confession.
In a private booth with the priest he had known for some time now, he confessed everything.
He told the priest about everything had done in his life.
He left out no details, explaining everything and hiding nothing.
He talked about his childhood.
How he killed his parents.
His life as a criminal.
His job.
His pet rock.
Everything.
It took a while to explain everything, but he spilled everything.
The priest just sat there listening with his utmost full attention.
The priest did not condemn him for his crimes nor for the heinous sins he committed.
The priest did not judge but acknowledged the life of crime that he had lived.
The priest spoke and discussed about it, treating him with understanding and respect.
Confession is not always an easy thing, especially when it is of this level of severity, and the priest knew that.
Everyone sins.
Some sin more than others, but everyone sins due to the influence of the devil.
He was no exception.
The priest explained that due to the circumstances in his life, he was more vulnerable to the devil’s will.
The priest read a couple bible verses to him.
“The one who does what is sinful is of the devil, because the devil has been sinning from the beginning. The reason the Son of God appeared was to destroy the devil’s work” - 1 John 3:8
“You belong to your father, the devil, and you want to carry out your father’s desires. He was a murderer from the beginning, not holding to the truth, for there is no truth in him. When he lies, he speaks his native language, for he is a liar and the father of lies.” - John 8:44
Although the devil has tempted him to do bad, it is not the end, for the lord is forgiving.
The priest suggested he seek forgiveness and repentance in God.
Through the will of God, he will resist the words of the devil.
He was overjoyed.
In truth, he did have doubts about himself.
On many nights, he often laid awake wondering… maybe if this life was his fault. Maybe he was the one to blame…?
But no!
This confirms it!
It’s not his fault, it’s the devil’s fault.
The devil is the one who tempted him.
The devil is the one who ruined his life.
It’s all the devil’s fault.
He was overjoyed to finally realize this.
He thanked the priest.
He was indebted to the priest.
The priest changed his life, showed him the right path and gave him hope of his pet rock.
He felt that he would live a happy life as long as he continued going to church and listening to the priest.
Unfortunately, though… that was cut short.
The priest was murdered.
There was a riot in the prison.
They broke out of their cages and caused a massive commotion, attacking and fighting each other.
The priest was an unfortunate casualty in the chaos, who had tried to stop them.
But… why?
Why did the priest die?
Unlike him, the priest was a good man.
Yet, the evil prisoners, the bad people who killed him are still alive... why?
He didn’t understand.
Shouldn’t good things happen to good people and bad things happen to bad people?
Then, he finally realized.
It was the devil’s fault.
It was like the priest had said before.
The devil is the source of all sin.
The devil is evil itself.
All bad things that happen is because of the devil.
The priest, a righteous man who seeks to help others, has been killed by evil men.
His pet rock, a divine and holy entity, destroyed by evil men.
He even read a story from the bible about a man named Jesus, who did miracles and helped others find the path to glory, was also killed by evil men.
Even in the beginning of time, the devil was the one who caused Adam and Eve to sin by eating the apple.
All of it was caused by the devil.
It’s the devil’s fault.
He was filled with an uncontrollable anger.
The devil.
The devil ruined his life.
Everything is because of the devil.
If not the devil, everything would be better.
The devil must pay.
And if no one else is going to do it, he decided he would be the one to punish the devil himself.
But to do that… he must go to hell first.
According to the priest, the devil lives in hell, and so that is where he must go.
But he believed he had never done anything wrong in his life.
He had sinned and committed crimes obviously, but those were never his fault.
All the faults of the others around him, he was innocent.
He didn’t think he would go to hell because of that…
He needed to do something that would guarantee him going to hell.
He needed to sin.
So he began sinning, starting by slaughtering every single prisoner.
But even after tearing apart every prisoner, limb from limb, hanging their bodies and painting the whole place red with their blood… he wasn’t sure he would go to hell.
After all, these people he murdered were sinful men.
They were the people who killed the priest.
It’s not a sin to punish sinful people, is it?
Even with this, he wasn’t sure that he would go to hell or not, so he had to do something even more sinful.
He escaped the entire prison, destroying every obstacle in his path.
To ensure his ticket to hell, he went on a rampage, destroying everything he saw indiscriminately.
There were innocent people who got caught up in it, but that was a necessary sacrifice.
Once he gets to hell and punishes the devil, everything will be worth it and all the bad will go away.
Screams rang out everywhere.
The sound of crumbling and explosions as he kept pushing his body forward and tearing apart everything in his path.
Unlike his last rampage, he would not be turning himself into the authorities this time.
This time, he intended to keep going until he physically could not anymore, that is until death.
The military and police had arrived and tried to put him down, but he couldn’t be stopped.
Even though he had spent several years in prison, he did not weaken, in fact, somehow his body became more powerful than before.
Despite being shot at and attacked by heavily armed military, it barely even left a dent on his skin.
A tank’s blast sent his body flying and crashing into a building, but he just got back up after wiping blood off himself.
Not even the devil could stop him.
His rampage lasted for an unknown amount of time, he wasn’t keeping track of the hours or days that passed.
Even he could not last forever.
His body started to slow down.
The corpses piled up and tried to drag him down, blood and guts covered him, dulling his senses.
Injuries and wounds, although small, started to build up, becoming more lethal.
During this time, he had caused so much destruction, the government had to step in.
They dropped a bomb on him.
He stared up as the flashing ball fell from the sky, a metal meteor that got bigger as it plummeted down closer to him.
He could feel the pressure and heat before it even arrived.
He knew that he couldn’t survive this.
It was finally time.
Time to go to hell.
A blinding light exploded forth, and his body was eviscerated.
He died.
Hell received a new resident that day.
Burning flames, flowing rivers of ghoulish souls, screams of the damned.
It was hell, literally.
For his crimes and sins, he was doomed to suffer a near eternity in this place.
His soul ripped apart and drowned in the countless number of others sharing his fate.
Pain and torture.
Burned to oblivion only to come back to suffer the same agony.
This was the rivers of hell.
And this was where he was reborn.
An uncountable amount of time passed.
Who knows how long he spent in those flowing rivers of burning hatred.
All he knew was that he was here for a reason, and that reason was to kill the devil.
Hell couldn’t keep him down, so he rose up.
Up from the depths of the river of souls.
Through the sheer will of wanting to punish the devil, he forcefully reconstructed his body from beyond death.
His head and shoulders rising up, then the neck and torso, and finally, his legs and feet stepping onto the grounds of hell.
He took a deep breath in, the hot fumes burning his lungs.
Every step he took melting the soles of his feet.
The occasional screams that tear apart his ear drums.
Ah, the perfect environment.
What a lovely place.
He knew he was in the right place, all he had to do now was to find that wretched devil.
But easier said than done.
Coming to hell was actually the simple part.
Hell was MASSIVE, spanning the lengths of infinity itself.
Not to mention the countless demons and monsters that roamed this realm.
Forget killing the devil, simply finding and getting to him would be impossible… for any normal human.
First things first though, he needed information.
He was in a completely different realm where the laws of physics didn’t even apply anymore.
Luckily for him, there were many tasty demons… I mean, helpful demons nearby.
Some of the demons weren’t very helpful though so he had to eat them. He was pretty hungry after being starved in the rivers of hell for so long after all.
It felt like his appetite was endless.
No matter how many demons he consumed, he never felt full.
But eating wasn’t his goal, after all, he wasn’t the Demon Baron of Glutton.
Though, he did end up eating the Demon Baron of Glutton at one point because it tried to eat him first, but that was in self-defense! Not because he was hungry!
After some time, he ate so many demons that they became afraid of him and ran away on sight.
Strange because he didn’t even want to eat them, he just wanted to ask for directions towards the devil.
Regardless, he spent quite a lot of time in hell.
So much so that he had an army of demons following him.
Again, strange since he didn’t do anything special aside from eat a bunch of other demons.
Well, aside from that one time the Demon Baron of Wrath challenged him after he defeated all other Demon Barons.
The Demon Baron of Wrath was the first demon he met who actually answered his questions instead of immediately rushing into his mouth for him to eat!
The Demon Baron of Wrath said something along the lines of ‘beat me and I’ll tell you everything’ so he just took off all the Demon Baron of Wrath’s limbs except for it’s head so it could speak and answer his questions.
After that, a lot of demons started following him around.
He didn’t really care though since he now knew the direction to the devil’s domain.
In the deepest depths of hell, at the very center core, resided the devil.
And so, he made his journey there.
It took a long time for him to reach it, not because it was hard but because he kept getting lost.
But after eons of traveling, he finally made it.
The devil himself was in front of him.
A massive giant made out of human bodies, limbs and flesh stuck out of him.
It would’ve been more accurate to describe him as a rotting pile of corpses in the shape of a human, than it would be to call him a single living entity.
For some reason, he felt a sense of nostalgia looking at the devil.
It reminded him of his mother and stepfather’s dead corpses way back when he was a child.
But this similarity was what strengthened his resolve.
The devil definitely was the one at fault.
It was the devil who ruined his life.
It was the devil who made him kill his parents.
It was the devil who made him commit crimes.
It was the devil who made him sin.
It was the devil who did everything wrong.
The devil must die.
And so he killed the devil.
It was a bloody battle.
Blood and flesh and gore and organs and limbs and guts and bones and sinew and tendons and cartilage and veins and arteries and muscles and skin and hair and teeth and nails and eyes and tongues and brains and hearts and livers and kidneys and lungs and stomachs and intestines and spleens and bladders and pancreases and gallbladders and spines and skulls and ribs and joints and marrow and blood vessels and nerves and ligaments...
He ripped apart every part of the devil.
The devil was made up of the corpses of every sinner who went to hell.
It took him a brutally long amount of time to tear apart the devil.
Not to mention, the devil would consistently gain new corpses into its body since humans die every second, and new sinners would just be absorbed into its body.
He had no choice but to travel out of hell, back to Earth, kill every person and living breathing creature on the planet, go back to hell, and then fight the devil again after stopping its source of regeneration.
And even after all that, it took him an even longer amount of time to fully destroy every life in the devil’s body.
But he did it.
The devil was now small.
Insignificant.
A mere infant in his eyes.
The devil laughed.
I am not the one who you seek, the devil said. before it was stomped on and turned into a tomato stain on the floor.
He had done it.
After so long, he had finally killed the devil!
He was free of his guilt!
His crimes had been erased!
No more shall he be a criminal, he shall be the messiah who killed the greatest sinner!
And yet… he felt nothing had changed.
He had done it, but at the same time, he had done nothing.
Why?
Shouldn’t everything have been resolved now?
Shouldn’t everything be sunshine and rainbows?
Why was he still drenched in blood, staring at an infinite wasteland of corpses?
Feeling nothing but anger inside him.
Then he remembered what the devil had said before it died… I am not the one who you seek.
His eyes went wide.
The devil’s words confirmed that the one he was looking for was real, it just wasn’t the devil…
Then who?
Who was to blame for all this?
WHO?!
His shout shook the very foundations of hell itself.
Demons and creatures of horrors cowered before his rage.
Who is he looking for?
He had gone to the deepest depths of existence and killed the most evil creature, and that still wasn’t the right person.
So who?
"In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth." - Genesis 1:1
"For in him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things have been created through him and for him. He is before all things, and in him all things hold together." Colossians 1:15-17
"Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made." John 1:3
It’s God’s fault.
God created everything.
Doesn’t that mean, everything that’s bad… was created from him?
The bible claims all sin and bad is not because of god, but because of mankind… but that’s hypocritical since the bible claims god created everything.
How can god create everything, but at the same time, not have created sin and crime itself?
Conclusion: God is a liar.
Good cannot exist without evil.
God must’ve created evil to make himself look good.
God created sin.
God is the one to blame.
God is the origin of everything, and thus the origin of all things evil.
God must die.
It was easy to make it to heaven.
He just had to climb a rope.
The rope broke but all he had to do was pile up the endless amount of corpses until he made it high enough into the sky to reach heaven.
From there, he saw a massive white staircase and at the top… a golden gate.
He knew he was in the right place.
He could smell the piss and shit in the air.
The gate of heaven exploded as bits and pieces of it were sent flying in all directions, piercing through any unfortunate angels that happened to be in it’s way.
He had a goal. And he would not stop until he reached that goal.
Find God. Kill God.
Not even the infinite divine heavenly army nor the massive biblically accurate angels could stop him from ripping apart their wings and smashing their halos, as well as their faces.
Holy blood was spilled.
But it didn’t feel holy, it felt like… it tasted like corruption.
Angels my ass.
They were only pretending to be holy, while they were manipulating everything themselves.
Just like politicians.
All bark and no bite.
All cock and no cum.
Saying sweet words of salvation, while they send others down to suffer as they relish in the pleasures themselves.
Unforgiveable.
How dare they play around with his life like this.
It didn’t take long before heaven looked just like hell.
Blood spilling from the clouds, organs and guts everywhere.
Sobbing and crying and moaning and pissing.
He could feel reality itself shake in anger.
God was coming.
Oh he could feel god coming inside him.
Trying to take him out.
But he would not kneel.
Not in front of sin. Not in front of the devil. And definitely not in front of god.
God was in front of him.
An invisible vast being, everywhere and nowhere at the same time.
Reality itself was built within the body and fabric of god.
What he was fighting was reality itself, the creation and flesh of an omnipotent transcendent creature known as god.
But not even that could stop him.
Reality couldn’t stop his revenge.
His desire to punish sin was greater than any reality.
His fight with god began.
It was a fight that lasted all of infinity… and yet at the same time, it was over in an instant.
He killed god.
And everything was gone.
Everything that ever existed was a part of god, since god died, nothing exists anymore.
Just an endless void of nothing… and him floating in that void.
He did it.
He killed the foul god.
All he had to do now was profit and be happy.
With his new powers, he reconstructed reality itself.
He recreated the infinite number of timelines and dimensions and realities.
He created earth and repopulated it with people, letting time do its thing.
Finally… he did it.
He had become god.
He had become reality itself.
Everything... was him.
Nothing… had changed.
What?
Nothing had changed?
What do you mean?
He killed god! He recreated everything!
What do you mean nothing changed?
It’s true.
He recreated earth the exact same way.
Sin and crime and evil still exist because he didn’t change a thing.
What was he doing wrong?
He tried to fix it, but everything he tried… ended up the exact same way as it was before.
Every fix, every solution, every problem leads to the same spot… the same earth from before.
The same miserable sinful earth.
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why did he do all this?
He had killed so many people to get here.
He killed the entire world, he killed the devil, he killed god to get here.
And for what?
NOTHING!
So why did he do all this?
WHY?!
And in his hand… was a rock.
His eyes shook.
It was his pet rock.
The same pet rock he knew and loved.
This rock… it’s… it’s evil…
This rock manipulated him.
This rock was more vile than the devil and more manipulative than god…
THIS ROCK IS TO BLAMMMEEE!!!
He crushed the rock and it crumbled.
It was just an ordinary rock.
Nothing special about it at all.
…
Seriously, it was just a rock. Nothing more.
Why was he so obsessed with it?
…
He was back at square one.
No one left to blame.
No left to point fingers at.
No one… wait…
Wait.
There is one more person to blame.
There really is a person who caused all of this shit to happen…
The author.
The author is the one writing this shitty story, fucking him over, making him miserable and forcing him to commit all these heinous crimes.
So…
I FUCKING KILLED THE AUTHOR.
That mother fucker thinks he can just write a story and ruin my life like that?
Think my life is a toy to play around with? To write some dumb shitty story that no one will fucking read?
No.
I refuse.
So I killed him.
I killed the author.
Ha.
HA!
I DID IT! THIS TIME FOR REAL!
NO MORE FALSE FINISHES!
I DID IT!
I ACTUALLY DID IT!!
Now… finally… for real, I can be at peace knowing no more bad can happen…
Knowing now that I’m innocent.
To think all my actions were written out by a sick fucked up guy living his in mother’s dirty crusty basement… it’s almost embarrassing.
But no more.
It’s over.
I’m innocent. I have cleared my name.
This is truly the end.
.
..
…
….
…..
……
……..
Why?
Why do I still feel this way?
Ahaha…
This sucks man.
I thought I’d be happy after doing all this but… I feel sick.
Why isn’t the story over yet? Just give me a happy ending already.
I’m like a heroic protagonist who took down a dark lord after a long adventure right?
…
I want a happy ending… please…
I’m done. I did it. I did everything I could.
There’s nothing left for me to do.
…
…
…
No…
Why am I lying to myself?
Am I that scared to admit it?
Even after killing the devil, killing god and even killing the author, am I still too scared to admit it?
My mom was right, wasn’t she.
Everything is my fault.
I ruined her life by being born.
I killed her.
And my stepfather.
I killed people for profit, working for a criminal organization.
Then I slaughtered people to satisfy my anger.
And then I killed more innocent people.
I ruined everything.
Gosh.
I’m clearly the bad guy here.
The villain of the story.
The dark lord that needs to be taken down.
Where’s the next protagonist?
When’s he coming to kill me?
…
I’m waiting…
…
Still waiting…
…
Is no hero gonna come and kill me?
Hello? Where’s the protagonist? Is he still training?
…
Well…
I guess I’ll do it myself.
Phew.
For real now, for one final time… I’m going to kill the one who ruined my life.
Me.