I didn’t go to church back on Earth.

My parents were both Christian, but we only went to mass a few times a year for the major holidays. It was enough for me to know a few of the important stories, but not enough to really care about them. The whole thing made my bullshit geiger counter crackle like a bowl of rice crispies - the halfhearted singing, pretending the wine and crackers were the actual flesh and blood of some dead guy and then… eating them to gain his powers?? Like he was some kind of Duodon? I dunno man.

I liked a few of their lessons, though. Mostly the one about treating others the way you want to be treated. Yeah, it’s one of those “nuggets of wisdom” that sounds great until the suicidal quiet kid decides to take a few of his bullies on a classroom field trip to hell, but for most people in most places, it’s solid advice to live by.

…except for most of the people who attended church, the advice went in one ear and shot right out the other like a blast from the aforementioned social outcast. I knew some of the church-faring kids from school, and they were some of the biggest assholes I ever met.

As for my parents… I could write a fucking book about them.

So, as soon as I was living independently and had my own stream of income, I stopped going to Church. It was awesome, because I didn’t have to pretend to believe in a bunch of cuckold garbage about turning the other cheek when life fucks you in the ass.

The problem was, it was also unexpectedly horrible.

Suddenly, I no longer had any kind of community to celebrate the major milestones of life with - birth, maturity, matrimony, death… Even if I found some girl who was insane enough to marry me, I don’t know what we would actually do to tie the knot. Go to the courthouse, sign the paper, and… that’s it? Nothing? But why would there be anything else? After all, when you think about it hard enough, there really is no natural significance to anything. All the pomp and circumstance that we attach to these events… the traditions, the rites of passage… at the end of the day, it’s all just random shit that somebody invented.

Who even cares that Spud is dead, anyway? Just a few random stragglers that will soon be dead themselves.

That can’t be right.

A week or so had passed since our fateful trip to the killing field, and I decided that it was high time to pay Dunkan’s church a visit and hear one of his sermons. It was a packed house today, and I was oddly touched by how many fucks this community of strangers seemed to give about one dead doof.

The crowded church grew silent as Dunkan climbed the steps of the altar. He was wearing his usual cutoff monk robe, fleshly guns blazing.

That’s one way to get everyone’s attention.

“In the beginning, there was nothing.”

Duncan began dramatically, his deep voice rumbling through the chamber.

“Mythra, our world, floated aimlessly through the endless darkness, alone in the abyss, for an unseen eternity. Until eventually: Tevvesian arrived. He noticed her and became enraptured, and under the light of his gaze she flushed green with life. Utterly entranced, they circled each other again and again, and as they did even more life began to appear - falling from Tevveshian and rising up from within Mythra. These were the first Craterans and Calderans. All manner of spectacular creatures eventually roamed Mythra’s lands, and swam through her oceans, and soared through her skies - with dizzying variety and complexity.

However, as this life was flourishing, another being passed by, on his own journey through the infinite nothingness, without a world to call his own. He was the Black Sun. Upon witnessing Mythra and her dazzling spectacle of creation, he became envious and lashed out at her in rage. He struck her surface and became Pseudolmyne, the lord of demons. Her land became lava, Her oceans became acid, and her air was filled with thick poisonous smoke. Most of the life that Mythra and Tevveshian had carefully cultivated together was lost. This was the Age of Darkness.

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Seeing Mythra in mortal danger, Tevveshian rushed to her defense, incarnating as Matthias, the great hero. Together with his squadron, Matthias fought back against Pseudolmyne, pushing it and its children all the way into the deep interior of Alterra.

In the final battle, Pseudolmyne was vanquished, and the choking darkness faded. The poisonous smoke cleared from the air, the acid in the ocean was neutralized, and the flowing lava cooled into fertile soil.

His work complete, Matthias awaited the death of his mortal body in peace. He founded the Church of Iron to teach us the lessons that Tevveshian had learned after observing untold eons of life. For, in his time as a mortal, Tevveshian had learned that life was suffering - painful, yet beautiful - and wished us to live in a way that kept this inevitable suffering to a minimum. This divine ordinance, the true basis of morality, was his final gift to us before he perished and resumed his heavenly throne.

That is why, as you live your own life on the stage that Tevveshian has granted us, ask yourself: Are my actions leading me closer to Tevveshian’s example, or not?

When the next Dark Age comes, will I be prepared? What about my family? My Friends? My nation? Humanity - and the myriad species that compose it?”

Dunkan had been standing stock still the entire time. But as his homily transitioned from the absolute beliefs of the Church to his own thoughts and interpretations, his tone shifted from cold and certain to fluid and inquisitive, and he started to pace across the altar.

“I’ve been thinking about the godly standard a lot lately. We lost a child last week in the killing field. I’m sure you all know - I saw many of you at the funeral.

I spoke with his brother after the mass, and as I was attempting to console the boy, do you know what he told me? He said:

My brother and I lived like animals - it’s only natural that he died like one.”

My eyes widened.

Beck said that?

“It’s a terrible lesson to learn at such a young age, but at the same time… what a perfect encapsulation of our church. This is why we are the Church of Iron. We are not Hypothalamites. We don’t give in to our base desires and impulses - and we certainly don’t worship them. For as Tevveshian taught us through Matthias, each of our impulses come with a curse. A curse that violates, corrupts, and disposes of our higher instincts. The instincts bestowed upon us by our intelligence! That which separates us - as Beck realized - from the animals!

Yea -

Cursed are the wrathful, for they will never know peace.

Cursed are the lustful, for they will never know love.

Cursed are the craven, for if they never fight for anyone - who will fight for them?

And Cursed are the gluttonous, for they will carry the weight of their sins for the rest of their life!”

With that, the mass was concluded, and the congregants began filing out of Church to return to their normal business. As for myself, I had a killer workout planned. I just hoped (selfishly) that nobody took Dunkan’s advice and decided to follow me along Tevveshian’s path - I hate sharing equipment.

I started near the front of the church, which meant that I was one of the last to leave. There were only a few people left hanging around as I left, staring forward in intense thought.

Then, I recognized one of them:

Beck!

I hadn’t seen him since the funeral, but he looked about the same as he had before. He wasn’t on a hunger strike against nature or anything, but he had this faraway look on his face that didn’t seem to match his usual goofy goober brand.

I approached him and clapped him on the shoulder, not intending to say anything further.

“I just farted.” he said distractedly.

I blinked.

“...but it isn’t funny any more.” he added, looking right at me in confusion.

I didn’t know what to say.