The Eye of Death blazed, like a microscope exposing the marrow of reality.And Ethan saw the root of the Void.
It wasn't some cosmic black hole, nor a gift from outer gods. It was man-made.Not merely fear, but something heavier, stickier: self-destruction and delusion.
In the beginning, the world was whole.Humans wanted fire—so they burned forests.They wanted order—so they built empires.They wanted peace—so they waged wars.They wanted immortality—so they experimented with replacements for death.Each desire, each denial, tore a tiny hole in reality.The holes accumulated, until they merged into the Void.
It was like a child stacking blocks high, then kicking them down, crying: "Why did it fall?!"The world was the tower. Humanity was the bawling brat.And the Void? Just the echo of their tantrum, piecing together rubble into a monster.
He heard its hoarse "choir":"We want salvation—so we must destroy first!""We want eternity—so we abandon everything!""We want freedom—so we lock others in chains!"
A parade of contradictions, waving banners painted with nonsense.The Void wasn't just fear—it was a garbage mountain of delusions.Humans made gods and graves at once.Shouted "Life is sacred!" while inventing new ways to die.The Void was nothing more than the black comedy script humanity wrote for itself.
Aileen trembled."So… we are the true creators?""Exactly." Ethan's smile was pure mockery. "The Void is just humanity's sin-list. It got so long, it grew a pulse."
The vision deepened.He saw generations throwing desire, ruin, betrayal, and greed into the same "wishing well."It overflowed, spilling black liquid that solidified into a beating heart—the core of the Void.And humans cursed it as cruel, never admitting it was their own offering.
"Like a drunk blaming the liquor instead of the hand that poured it."Ethan sneered. "Humans aren't victims. They're the brewers."
The Void spoke then—its voice a grotesque mix of preacher's zeal, judge's coldness, and salesman's syrup.
"Humans created me.Because you needed an enemy.Because you needed an excuse.Because you needed a mirror uglier than yourselves.You cry, 'The Void devoured the world,' so you can pretend it wasn't you tearing down the bricks.You cry, 'The Void corrupted souls,' so you don't admit you set fire to your conscience yourselves."
It chuckled, low and thick."You curse me as evil, while shoving food into my mouth. How cute. How noble."
Ethan's chest heaved.He finally understood—"original sin" wasn't some mystical fruit. It was humanity's incurable flaw:Destroying what they feared would be destroyed anyway.
War wasn't the Void's scheme—it was man pressing the switch.Greed wasn't corruption—it was man's own contract.Despair wasn't poison—it was man's chosen drug.
The Void was just the janitor, sweeping up debris, scapegoated as the villain.If it weren't so bleak, it would be cosmic satire.
Ronan's voice rang from the distance, sharp as a blade:"Ethan, you've finally seen it.The Void isn't the enemy—it's humanity's mirror.You should be grateful. At least we have a god that's honest."
Ethan turned slowly, the black fire of the Eye flickering across his grin—desolate, cracked."Honest? Maybe. But its honesty is that of a clown—exposing every lie, offering no cure."
His whisper sounded like a eulogy:"Humanity's original sin was never eating the apple.It was planting the tree, picking the fruit, and then crying, 'Who did this to me?'"
The Void's laughter rolled out, and the underworld applauded, clapping for the black truth of mankind.