’If he can choose death and still survive, then surviving becos an active choice instead of a reaction.’
These were the thoughts swirling in Lazarak’s mind as he watched with a downcast expression. His shoulders slumped slightly, his fingers curling as he processed what he was witnessing.
It was important that Damon made the choice himself without anyone stepping in or choosing for him.
Then living would beco a choice. It would be a rebirth he carved with his own will.
Lazarak clenched his fist. He would have to act now. This was Damon’s final sin and, going by the order of things, this was the last one. The sin of pride. As for what cri was tied to it, he did not know. He was not a mind reader and Damon’s past was a mystery to him.
’If he fails I’ll intervene and unleash my authority and domain. It will put us at risk in the long run but so be it.’
Matia’s eyes remained as cold as ever. He could feel raw hostility radiating from them, directed entirely at the Archivist. If she could have her way, the Archivist would regret ever existing.
He raised his small hand slightly so she would notice him. After all, he still looked like a toddler. She looked over, her cold glare sharp enough to freeze his soul.
He lowered his hand quickly.
"Ahem ahem. Forget I said anything." He did not want to end up on her bad side.
Damon remained calm, his gaze steady as it t the Archivist who was ready to announce the last cri and sin.
"You are a very proud man. You despise everyone with your words and actions and never acknowledge your limits even when they are ager."
The Archivist shook his head at Damon, almost pitying him.
"Of all the cris you have committed, all pale in comparison to your greatest cri."
He whispered the next words as if afraid soone else might hear them.
"Hubris against the divine." His voice was soft but the words cracked through the library like thunder.
"Challenging gods without acknowledging one’s limits."
Lazarak gritted his teeth as darkness crept across his eyes. His aura flared slightly as he prepared to fight. Damon glanced in his direction and raised his hand to stop him, his attention never leaving the Archivist.
"This is the sin of pride."
The images before Damon shifted, transforming into sothing he had nearly forgotten. It hadn’t even been long ago, just a few months, yet seeing it replay was comical.
There was a young man whispering to a sound stone modified to resemble a god’s totem. On the other side of that stone was Damon, pretending to be a god and guiding his chosen apostle Marcus.
"Hahahahaha." Damon laughed aloud as he saw the scene. Back then he had been walking on eggshells, wanting to kill Marcus Fayjoy.
He had used arrows tipped with cursed ore and planted them under Marcus’s bed. Each night Marcus slept, they corroded his mind until he was half deranged. Then Damon decided to play god, using the sound stone to give Marcus revelations.
He twisted the young man against his friends until Damon killed them all.
Lazarak’s unease grew. Being a lesser god, he knew the gravity of this sin. Gods should never be questioned by mortals. That rule was enforced even if he hated it.
This was simply the way of the world.
"Why are you laughing?" the Archivist asked.
Damon smiled as he looked down at the manifestation of the sin of pride.
"Ahhh I thought that book showed you everything about . Suppose I was wrong."
His tone dipped into a cold whisper.
"I pride myself on having no pride so the concept is lost on ."
He clenched his fist until it made a crunching sound. Blood dripped from his burned peeling skin.
"Hubris against the divine. Hahaha. I laugh at that supposed cri. What cri have I committed when I know the gods are imperfect like . When I know they weep like , feel like , sha like , love like and lose like ."
He gritted his teeth, thinking back to the Unknown God’s criticism of what a god was. It had been difficult to understand the Unknown God, who was both god and demon, but his words had not been without rit.
"Isn’t God supposed to be all good and all great."
"Hashanah." Damon laughed with pure disdain. Yes, this was hubris. Inflated pride and unshaken self-confidence.
He could accept his human flaws and weakness. He could feel guilt for them. But hubris against the divine.
Pathetic.
"I feel no guilt for that. I did it once and I will do it again. We are living in a hell created by a so-called God. I see God, I see their power, and all I see is their senseless cruelty."
He felt nothing wrong with saying it. Anyone could look at the world, at any world, and see the sa thing.
"They tell us to worship the goddess. They tell us to pray when we are suffering. What good has that done? Is that even logical? We pray. We pay them from our ager earnings in the na of God while they dress in opulence and feast in abundance and we endure rags and hunger."
Damon felt no respect for the temple or the goddess.
"If you question religion it is blasphemy. Only cruel lies fear being questioned. And if the goddess is so great then why is she not fixing the rot she created. If she is good then she is not all powerful. And if she is all powerful then she is not good."
Damon sneered, his voice cold.
"That is what I have to say to your words. My hubris. No. I will not be deluded by the opium you feed the masses. If questioning the will of gods will have damned then I welco damnation."
He shook his head slowly.
"But I will not bow."
The Archivist trembled. Damon’s heart held not a shred of guilt. No sha. No fear of God. Only disdain, anger and defiance.
The Archivist looked at his hands. The edges slowly began to turn to dust.
He glanced at Damon.
"A demon .... Only the demon defies god.
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