Far from the burning city.
Far from the clash of steel and monsters.
Far from the desperate battle being fought by Lucas.
The manor stood silent.
Not peaceful.
Silent.
The kind of silence born from fear.
The servants had gathered everyone into the deepest section of the manor grounds.
Children huddled together.
Several maids were praying.
Others cried quietly.
Even some of the guards stationed within the manor looked nervous as distant tremors occasionally shook the earth.
Every now and then a faint roar echoed from the city.
And every time it happened, someone flinched.
Someone prayed.
Someone cried.
One maid covered her mouth as tears streamed down her face.
"My husband..."
she whispered.
"He was in the city..."
No one answered.
Because nobody knew what to say.
Several children clung to one another.
One little boy sobbed openly.
A young girl buried her face against her mother's dress.
Fear spread through the room like a sickness.
Yet amidst all of them sat Bereshith.
Quiet.
Still.
His little sister rested peacefully in his arms.
Yareach did not cry.
Did not fuss.
She simply slept.
As though nothing in the world could disturb her.
Bereshith slowly lifted his eyes.
Looking upward.
Past the ceiling.
Past the stone.
Past the sky itself.
His gaze seemed fixed upon something only he could see.
Then he lowered his head.
And looked toward Levanah.
"Child."
The voice was Bereshith's.
Yet it was not.
The words carried a weight that immediately drew attention.
Levanah blinked.
Confused.
"Yes?"
Bereshith gently extended Yareach toward her.
"Hold her for me."
Levanah stared.
Something felt different.
The face was Bereshith's.
The body was Bereshith's.
Yet the presence before her felt immeasurably older.
Immeasurably greater.
Still, she carefully accepted the sleeping infant.
"O-Okay..."
The moment Yareach left his arms—
Bereshith stood.
The room instinctively fell silent.
People watched him.
Some confused.
Some frightened.
Some unable to understand why they suddenly felt compelled to watch the child.
Without another word.
Bereshith began walking toward the exit.
Maria immediately noticed.
"Bereshith!"
She hurried after him.
The noblewoman quickly caught up and grabbed his wrist.
"Where do you think you're going?!"
Fear filled her voice.
Real fear.
Not for herself.
For him.
The child stopped walking.
Slowly.
Very slowly.
He turned his head.
And looked at her.
"Let go."
The answer was calm.
Simple.
Absolute.
Maria tightened her grip.
"No!"
Her voice echoed throughout the chamber.
Everyone turned.
Every eye fixed itself upon the pair.
Levanah stood frozen.
The maids stopped crying.
The guards stopped talking.
Even the children watched.
Maria looked directly into Bereshith's eyes.
And for a moment—
She felt as though she were staring into an endless sea of stars.
Ancient.
Timeless.
Boundless.
"You can't go out there!"
Maria shouted.
"There are monsters!"
"There are people dying!"
"Lucas is fighting!"
"You'll die!"
Bereshith simply looked at her.
Without anger.
Without annoyance.
Without judgment.
Then he raised his left hand.
Slowly.
Gently.
And placed it upon her cheek.
"Let go, My Child."
His voice was soft.
Warmer than sunlight.
Softer than a mother's embrace.
"One of my sheep needs my help."
Then he smiled.
The moment he did.
Something changed.
The fear inside Maria vanished.
Not diminished.
Vanished.
The terror.
The panic.
The uncertainty.
Gone.
A warmth spread through her body.
Comforting.
Peaceful.
Safe.
Like standing beside a fire during winter.
Like hearing a beloved voice after years apart.
Like coming home.
Tears gathered within her eyes.
Not from sadness.
But relief.
And before she realized it—
Her fingers released his wrist.
Bereshith turned away once more.
And resumed walking.
Nobody stopped him.
Nobody could.
Not because they were unable.
But because something deep within their hearts told them not to.
Step.
Step.
Step.
The child reached the great doors of the chamber.
His small hand rested upon the handle.
The doors slowly opened.
Revealing the hallway beyond.
Before stepping through.
Bereshith paused.
And looked back.
At Maria.
At Levanah.
At Yareach.
At the servants.
At the frightened children.
At every soul gathered within the room.
Then he spoke.
"Believe me."
A gentle smile appeared.
"And everything will be okay."
No grand speech.
No miracle.
No thunder.
No overwhelming display of power.
Just those words.
Believe me.
And everything will be okay.
Strangely.
Every person present believed him.
Even the crying maid.
Even the frightened children.
Even the guards.
Even Maria.
The child stepped outside.
Then the doors slowly closed.
The instant they shut—
A brilliant golden light erupted across the frame.
Ancient symbols appeared upon the wood.
Flowing like liquid sunlight.
Lines of radiant energy spread across the walls.
Across the floor.
Across the ceiling.
Forming a magnificent barrier.
The entire chamber glowed softly.
The guards stared in disbelief.
One fell to his knees.
Another removed his helmet.
A maid gasped.
Several servants began crying once again.
But these tears were different.
Hope.
The barrier pulsed once.
Like a heartbeat.
Then settled.
No sound from outside entered.
No tremor shook the room.
No fear crossed the threshold.
The manor's deepest refuge had become a sanctuary.
Maria stared at the closed doors.
Unable to move.
Unable to speak.
Levanah tightened her hold on Yareach.
The sleeping infant remained completely peaceful.
As though she somehow knew everything would be fine.
One of the younger maids whispered.
"What was that...?"
Nobody answered.
Because deep within their hearts.
They already knew.
And as Bereshith walked alone through the manor corridors.
His small footsteps echoed softly against the stone floor.
The golden light from the barrier reflected behind him.
Like the dawn following the longest night.
And somewhere beyond the city.
Where a wounded knight fought against an ancient terror.
Something vast had begun to move.
Not in anger.
Not in judgment.
But in grace.
And mercy.
As the golden barrier remained behind him.
Silent.
Unbreakable.
Warm.
Within it, the frightened servants, children, and guards found a peace they could not explain.
And beyond it—
Bereshith walked alone.
The manor halls were empty.
Servants had long since sought shelter.
The grand corridors that once bustled with activity now stood silent.
Only the sound of small footsteps echoed through the stone passageways.
Step.
Step.
Step.
Then—
Bereshith began to sing.
Not loudly.
Not as a proclamation.
Not as a hymn intended for others.
But as a child would.
A child walking through a field of flowers.
A child without fear.
A child who knew he was loved.
"Wandering valleys, lost in the night"
His voice drifted through the empty corridor.
Soft.
Gentle.
Beautiful.
"A foolish sheep who strayed from the light"
Outside the manor.
The wind slowed.
"Thorns in my wool, shame in my eyes"
Birds resting upon rooftops became still.
"But You left the flock, came for my life"
Bereshith descended the manor stairs.
His bare feet touched the stone with quiet grace.
"No fence could hold You, no mountain too high"
He reached the courtyard.
"You carried me home where the still waters lie"
And then—
He began to dance.
Not with skill.
Not with elegance taught by nobles.
Not with the discipline of trained performers.
But with joy.
Pure joy.
His arms spread outward.
He spun once.
Twice.
His white garments swayed with the motion.
Golden sunlight seemed to cling to him.
The world around him felt lighter.
As though creation itself recognized its Creator.
"Oh God, my Shepherd, so faithful and true"
A terrified stable horse stopped trembling.
"Your grace like a river, it covers me new"
Flowers bent gently toward his passing.
"Your love never fails me, it's deeper than seas"
The frightened birds hidden beneath the manor roofs emerged once more.
"Your mercy keeps finding a wretch just like me"
Bereshith skipped across the courtyard.
Not walked.
Skipped.
Like a little boy enjoying a beautiful morning.
"I'm a sheep in Your pasture, safe in Your hands"
He twirled.
"Redeemed by the blood of the Lamb"
And continued onward.
Far away.
The city burned.
People screamed.
Monsters roared.
Steel clashed.
Blood stained the streets.
Yet Bereshith continued singing.
Unhurried.
Unafraid.
"When I was unworthy, still You drew near"
The city gates stood open.
Abandoned.
Damaged.
"Spoke my name softly, cast out my fear"
Several fleeing citizens froze.
Because they saw a child.
Walking toward the battlefield.
Smiling.
Singing.
"Grace upon grace, You poured out on me"
One wounded guard stared.
Dumbfounded.
"Love without limit, mercy so free"
The guard blinked.
Certain he was hallucinating.
The city was under attack.
People were dying.
Buildings were collapsing.
Yet there was a child dancing through the streets.
Singing.
And somehow—
The sight eased his fear.
"No sin too heavy, no chain You can't break"
The wounded guard found himself crying.
"You restore my soul for Your name's sake"
Not from sadness.
From relief.
Something deep within his heart whispered:
Everything will be alright.
Bereshith continued onward.
Toward the battlefield.
Toward Lucas.
Toward the Thorned Sovereign.
The closer he came—
The more strange things occurred.
The violet corruption leaking from the rupture receded slightly.
The ground ceased trembling where he stepped.
The wounded found their pain lessened.
Fear weakened.
Hope strengthened.
And still—
He sang.
"Oh God, my Shepherd, so faithful and true"
The battlefield finally appeared before him.
Thousands fought.
Soldiers.
Guards.
Warriors.
Monsters.
Screams filled the air.
Steel rang endlessly.
The Thorned Sovereign towered above them all.
And before it—
Lucas.
Bleeding.
Broken.
One arm hanging uselessly.
Still fighting.
Still standing.
Several soldiers noticed movement behind them.
One turned.
Then another.
Then another.
Soon dozens had stopped.
Not because they wished to.
Because they couldn't understand what they were seeing.
A child.
Walking through a battlefield.
Smiling.
Singing.
Dancing.
"Even when I wander, even when I fall"
A monster lunged toward him.
Before it could reach him—
Its body crumbled into harmless dust.
Bereshith never even looked at it.
"You gently rebuke me and still love me all"
He spun once more.
Almost playfully.
"No condemnation, just arms open wide"
Several soldiers lowered their weapons.
Not from surrender.
From disbelief.
"In Your presence I'm home, forever I'll abide"
A wounded knight fell to his knees.
Tears streaming down his face.
Because for a brief moment—
The battlefield no longer felt like a battlefield.
It felt like church.
It felt like home.
It felt like standing before something holy.
Bereshith passed through them all.
Unbothered.
Happy.
Peaceful.
Like a child going to meet a beloved friend.
"Oh God, my Shepherd, I lift up my voice"
Lucas heard the voice.
His eyes widened.
No.
Not here.
Not now.
He turned.
And there—
Walking through blood, fire, ruin, and death—
Was Bereshith.
Smiling.
"For grace that abounds and love that rejoices"
The Thorned Sovereign slowly turned as well.
Its massive body froze.
Its antlered head lowered.
For the first time since arriving in this world—
The monster felt something.
Not anger.
Not hatred.
Not hunger.
Fear.
True fear.
Ancient fear.
The kind of fear that existed before language.
Before kingdoms.
Before creation itself.
And as Bereshith continued approaching.
Still smiling.
Still singing.
Still dancing like a carefree child.
The battlefield slowly fell silent.
"Your mercy has won me, forever I'm Yours"
Only his voice remained.
"A sheep in the arms of the Lord"
Step.
Step.
Step.
Closer to Lucas.
Closer to the Thorned Sovereign.
Closer to the center of the storm.
"I'm Your sheep… forever Your sheep…"
Lucas stared.
The soldiers stared.
The monsters stared.
The Thorned Sovereign stared.
And none of them dared move.
"In Your grace, in Your love, in Your mercy… I'm free."
The song ended.
The battlefield remained silent.
And Bereshith smiled.
As though he had merely arrived for a pleasant afternoon walk.
The battlefield remained silent.
The fires still burned.
The smoke still rose.
The ruined city still bore the scars of battle.
Yet none dared move.
Not the soldiers.
Not the monsters.
Not even the Thorned Sovereign.
For all eyes rested upon the small child standing amidst ruin and death.
Lucas was the first to break the silence.
His battered body trembled.
Blood still flowed from countless wounds.
His broken arm hung uselessly.
Yet somehow he found the strength to shout.
"YOU!"
His voice echoed across the battlefield.
"What are you doing here?!"
His breathing became ragged.
"I told you to hide!"
The soldiers looked toward him.
Several of them almost smiled.
Even now.
Even half dead.
Lucas was still worried about the child.
But before Lucas could continue—
Bereshith looked at him.
Raised a finger.
And gently placed it against his lips.
"Shush."
The single word carried no force.
No anger.
No command.
And yet it immediately silenced him.
Lucas froze.
His eyes widened.
Then realization struck.
"No..."
he whispered.
He knew that voice.
He knew that presence.
He knew that feeling.
His heart nearly stopped.
"Wait..."
The exhausted knight stared.
"Don't tell me..."
And then he understood.
It wasn't Bereshith speaking.
It was Him.
The realization washed over Lucas like a tide.
And suddenly—
The strength holding his body together vanished.
His sword slipped from his fingers.
Clang.
His knees struck the ground.
The battle.
The pain.
The exhaustion.
Everything returned at once.
Lucas tried to remain awake.
Tried to force his eyes open.
Tried to witness whatever was about to happen.
But his body had reached its limit long ago.
Only his will had kept him standing.
Now even that was fading.
The last thing he saw—
Was Bereshith smiling at him.
Then darkness claimed him.
And Lucas fell unconscious.
The battlefield became still once more.
Bereshith slowly turned his attention toward the Thorned Sovereign.
The giant monster remained motionless.
For the first time since arriving in this world—
It looked uncertain.
Like a lost child.
Then Bereshith spoke.
"Why are you here, Lost Sheep?"
His voice carried neither accusation nor anger.
"You're far away from your home."
The Thorned Sovereign stared.
Its enormous body seemed smaller somehow.
Less terrifying.
Less monstrous.
Then it answered.
"You..."
Its broken voice rumbled.
"You. Not. Human."
The creature lowered its sword.
"What. You?"
Bereshith smiled softly.
And answered.
"I AM WHO I AM."
The moment those words left his mouth—
The wind stopped.
The sky became still.
Even the rupture itself trembled.
The Thorned Sovereign stepped backward.
"You. Different."
Its voice shook.
"You. Not. Human."
The creature lowered its head.
"I. Not. Kill."
A pause.
"Not. Human."
Bereshith's smile widened slightly.
"Excellent."
He took a step forward.
"Then let's have a talk."
Another step.
And suddenly—
The atmosphere changed.
The air grew heavy.
Not oppressive.
Not hostile.
Holy.
Like standing before something infinitely ancient.
Infinitely powerful.
Infinitely loving.
The Thorned Sovereign shivered.
Its hands tightened around its sword.
Not out of aggression.
Out of fear.
Then Bereshith repeated the question.
"Why are you here, Lost Sheep?"
The smile disappeared.
His eyes remained kind.
But serious.
"You're far away from your home."
The battlefield watched.
The soldiers watched.
The monsters watched.
Even the world itself seemed to listen.
The Thorned Sovereign lowered its head.
For a long time.
It said nothing.
Then—
Its body began to shake.
Not from battle.
Not from injury.
From sorrow.
And when it spoke again—
The broken speech vanished.
The monstrous voice disappeared.
In its place came the voice of a man.
A tired voice.
A suffering voice.
A voice carrying centuries of pain.
"I..."
The giant trembled.
"I don't know."
Silence.
Then tears began flowing from beneath the rusted axes nailed into its face.
"Please..."
The voice broke.
"Please kill me."
Several soldiers gasped.
The Thorned Sovereign continued.
"Please forgive me."
Its body trembled harder.
"I didn't mean to hurt anyone."
The giant dropped its sword.
The massive weapon crashed into the street.
"I can't control my body."
Its voice cracked.
"Please..."
Tears mixed with blood.
"Please kill me."
The battlefield fell completely silent.
No one had expected this.
No one.
Then Bereshith walked forward.
One step.
Two.
Three.
Until he reached the giant.
The Thorned Sovereign stood motionless.
Waiting.
Expecting judgment.
Expecting destruction.
Expecting death.
Instead—
Bereshith wrapped his small arms around the giant's leg.
And hugged it.
Like a child embracing a beloved parent.
Like a shepherd finding a lost sheep.
Like a father welcoming a child home.
"I know."
The giant froze.
"I know you didn't mean it."
The tears intensified.
Bereshith rested his cheek against the creature.
"I just wanted to hear it from your voice."
A pause.
"Deep within your soul."
The Thorned Sovereign fell to its knees.
The entire city shook.
And then came the words.
Words that seemed to echo beyond the world itself.
"Oh, My Lost Sheep."
Bereshith smiled.
"I forgive you."
The giant broke completely.
Sobbing.
Not as a monster.
As a man.
Then Bereshith continued.
"Surely I tell you this today."
The world held its breath.
"You will be with Me."
And then—
Light.
Pure.
Endless.
Beautiful.
The entire city vanished beneath radiance.
A brilliant light erupted from Bereshith's body.
It expanded outward.
Across the streets.
Across the ruins.
Across the battlefield.
Across the city.
Everything disappeared beneath its glow.
The monsters dissolved instantly.
Not destroyed.
Released.
The corruption vanished.
The violet substance evaporated.
The rupture shattered.
Then sealed.
Buildings rose.
Walls repaired themselves.
Broken roads became whole.
Fires extinguished.
Debris vanished.
The city was restored.
As though the battle had never happened.
Then came something even greater.
The fallen soldiers opened their eyes.
Citizens who had died gasped for breath.
Children reunited with parents.
Parents reunited with children.
The dead returned.
Not as undead.
Alive.
Whole.
Healed.
Restored.
Wounds vanished.
Broken bones healed.
Strength returned.
Tears filled countless eyes.
And at the center of it all—
The Thorned Sovereign screamed.
Not from pain.
From release.
The rusted axes embedded in its face dissolved into light.
The nails vanished.
The scars disappeared.
The monstrous flesh unraveled.
The antlers crumbled.
The corruption left.
The hatred left.
The suffering left.
The enormous body began shrinking.
Returning.
Restoring.
Purifying.
Until finally—
The monster was gone.
Only a man remained.
Fallen to his knees.
Weeping.
Free.
And standing before him—
Was a smiling child.
A child carrying grace.
A child carrying mercy.
A child carrying the love that even the darkest monster could not outrun.
And for the first time in ages—
The Lost Sheep had found his way home.
Then...
The man froze.
For a moment, he simply stood there.
Breathing.
Thinking.
Feeling.
Then the reality of what had just happened finally reached him.
His hands.
They were no longer twisted.
No longer monstrous.
The bark-like flesh was gone.
The thorns were gone.
The pain that had tortured him for so long was gone.
Slowly, trembling, he touched his own face.
His real face.
Not the horror hidden beneath nailed axes and antlers.
Not the face of a beast.
His face.
His fingers shook.
Then memories returned.
Not one.
Not ten.
Thousands.
Every life he had taken.
Every scream.
Every terrified face.
Every house he had destroyed.
Every child that had cried.
Every innocent that had died beneath his rampage.
The memories struck him like spears.
His legs immediately gave out.
"Ah..."
A broken sound escaped his throat.
His body collapsed onto his knees.
His eyes widened.
His breathing became uneven.
"No..."
He remembered everything.
Not as a monster.
Not as a mindless creature.
But as himself.
The guilt crushed him.
His hands gripped his chest.
As though trying to rip out the unbearable weight inside.
Then he looked up.
And saw God.
A small child.
Standing before him.
Smiling.
Waiting.
Not judging.
Not condemning.
Waiting.
The man broke.
A sob escaped his lips.
Then another.
Then another.
He lunged forward.
Not to attack.
Not to flee.
But to cling.
His arms wrapped around God.
Carefully.
Gently.
As though he feared even touching Him.
And then he cried.
Not the cry of a warrior.
Not the cry of a king.
Not the cry of a monster.
The cry of a broken man.
"My Lord..."
His voice cracked.
"My God..."
Tears streamed endlessly down his face.
"I am sorry for everything!"
His grip tightened.
"I am tainted."
His shoulders shook.
"I am a sinner."
He lowered his head.
"I am a monster!"
More tears fell.
"I don't deserve Your mercy!"
His voice trembled.
"I don't deserve Your grace!"
Like a child that unable to speak properly, he continue.
"My Lord, My God! Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord!"
Then silence.
Long silence.
The battlefield disappeared around him.
The soldiers disappeared.
The city disappeared.
The world disappeared.
Only him and God remained.
Then suddenly he raised his head.
His eyes were red.
His face drenched with tears.
His voice exploded from the depths of his soul.
"But God!"
The cry echoed through the city.
"Have mercy on my soul!"
His body trembled violently.
"I am a sinner!"
The words were not spoken with pride.
Not with excuse.
Not with justification.
Only truth.
Raw.
Painful.
Honest truth.
Then everything became quiet once more.
God looked at him.
For a moment He said nothing.
Then a small hand reached upward.
Tap.
A gentle touch upon the man's head then face.
The trembling stopped.
The fear faded.
The panic vanished.
Then God stepped closer.
And gently embraced the man's head against His shoulder.
Like a father comforting a grieving son.
Like a shepherd carrying a wounded sheep.
God smiled.
A warm smile.
A loving smile.
A smile without anger.
Without disappointment.
Without judgment.
Then He spoke.
"You are forgiven, My lost sheep. My child."
The man's eyes widened.
More tears fell.
God gently stroked his hair.
"Now, sin no more."
The words entered deeper than any sword could ever reach.
The man felt warmth.
Not around him.
Within him.
A warmth that reached every wound.
Every scar.
Every regret.
Every piece of darkness he carried.
The warmth wrapped around his face.
Around his heart.
Around his very soul.
And suddenly all strength left him.
Not because he was weak.
But because he no longer needed to carry his burden alone.
His body slumped.
His forehead rested against God.
His tears continued flowing.
Endlessly.
Silently.
Finally, after everything he had endured...
After all the guilt.
After all the pain.
After all the years of darkness...
The man spoke one final time.
A whisper.
Barely audible.
"I am sorry."
God's hand gently rested upon his head.
And He simply replied:
"I know."