Time is a lie.
It doesn't flow. It doesn't move forward. It repeats, bends, distorts. It doesn't carry us; it buries us, layer after layer, until we forget we are prisoners of it.
The sky is also a lie.
The promised paradise, the peak of perfection, the proof of the divine— all of it has crumbled. The gold of the temples turned to dust. The clouds, once immaculate, were stained red with the blood of those who refused to accept the truth. The sky died, not because it was destroyed, but because it never truly existed.
Now, 8 million years later, only 2,000 souls remain.
And still, they pray.
To whom?
God left long ago, or maybe He was never here. The sky is no longer a celestial dwelling, but a tomb. The pillars of divine light have turned to stone bones, the angelic choirs silenced, giving way to silence. Not the silence of peace, but that of condemnation. An emptiness so absolute it seems to scream.
And me?
I am Naka.
I was called a freak, a heresy, a mistake. I was cursed by those who claimed to be just and pursued by those who claimed to be holy. But now, I am the only thing left when everything was reduced to nothing.
And I destroyed the sky.
But to understand how we got here, we must go back to the beginning.
Siddartha and Dante stood before me.
Two men who shaped the understanding of existence, who sought truth in their own paths. Two men who, even in the face of the collapse of the sky, still tried to find meaning in the chaos.
Behind me, the Sins. Not as forces of corruption, but as purified manifestations of what humanity had always denied. They were the truth, freed from the judgment imposed by a broken world.
Even those who had never been imprisoned had returned to the cage before Void's death, as if they knew they would have to wait. But when Void died, the chains broke. And now, they were here. By my side.
Dante looked at me with the prudence of a man who had already seen hell and still doubted what he saw. Siddartha expressed nothing but a silence heavier than words could carry.
The sky was in ruins, but they still stood tall. They still believed that something could be saved.
Dante was the first to speak.
— What do you intend, Naka?
His voice carried more than simple curiosity. It wasn't fear, nor anger, but a deep sorrow. He didn't want to believe the answer he already knew.
I smiled.
— What's necessary.
Time stretched.
No blade cut the silence. Only inevitability.
My feet moved over the land stained with blood and ashes. There was no hurry, no hesitation.
Dante frowned. Siddartha didn't react.
My fingers touched Dante's throat first. His skin was cold, but his pulse still throbbed, fragile as the last thread of a fate already sealed.
He tried to move away, but my grip was absolute.
His eyes met mine. There was no fury, only acceptance.
I squeezed.
His fingers touched my wrists, not in resistance, but as if he wanted to feel the moment when he would cease to exist.
Siddartha watched in silence.
Dante gasped. His body trembled. For a moment, his gaze lost itself beyond me, perhaps glimpsing something we would never understand.
I could have said something. Could have offered words of comfort or condemnation. But there was no need.
His knees gave way. His body fell.
Hell had finally swallowed him.
I turned to Siddartha.
He didn't move.
— Aren't you going to fight? — I asked.
— Why? — he replied.
There was no fear in his voice. Nor challenge. Just an infinite calm.
I stared at him for a moment.
Then my hand found his neck.
He closed his eyes.
No sigh. No resistance.
The only thing that existed was silence.
I squeezed.
His body gave way as if it had been ready for this. As if it knew this had always been the inevitable outcome.
When he fell, his eyes were serene.
I didn't hate them. I didn't love them.
I simply did what had to be done.
The sky was never a prize. It was a prison.
From the beginning, they said it was the fate of the righteous. But what is justice but the morality of those who won? What is good but the comfort of those who feel safe? The sky was a theater, an illusion so the dead wouldn't realize they were still chained.
The difference between heaven and hell was never one of essence, only of aesthetics.
But then, Void destroyed hell.
And without a hell to contain the damned, where would their souls go?
Here.
117 billion sinners ascended to the sky, but they found no paradise, only another battlefield. They brought with them their fury, their hunger, their hopelessness. The guilt that devoured their souls now needed a new place to dwell.
And so, the sky rotted.
I saw the war that followed. I saw angels torn by hands that once only begged for mercy. I saw the blue of the sky stained with torrents of flesh and blood. I saw temples crumble under the weight of those who refused to accept that eternity would offer them nothing more than their own reflection.
I saw God abandon what He created.
Nietzsche's phrase now has another meaning—God is truly dead here.
And then, when everything was about to disintegrate completely, I saw the cages.
The Sins were there.
Not because they were captured, but because they chose to lock themselves up. Those who had never been imprisoned, those who walked free, returned voluntarily to the chains just before Void's death. As if they knew the moment would come. As if they expected something greater than ruin.
And when Void fell, they were freed.
I saw them emerge.
Slowly, one by one.
And they weren't what humanity expected.
They weren't monsters. They weren't destructive forces. They weren't demons.
They were truths.
They were the pieces of humanity that had always existed but were painted as sin because they couldn't be controlled.
Gluttony was not just greed—it was the desire to live.
Greed was not just avarice—it was the refusal to be exploited.
Lust was not just pleasure—it was the recognition of the flesh.
Sloth was not just inaction—it was the wisdom to know when to stop.
Envy was not just desire—it was the search for something greater.
Wrath was not just fury—it was the fire that burned injustice.
And me?
I was immorality.
Because morality is a lie.
It doesn't come from the heart, but from convenience. It's not an absolute truth, but a weapon used by those who want to control. Humanity proclaims itself pure while feeding on its own decay. They create laws to keep order but break them whenever it suits them. They say certain actions are wrong, but justify them when they are the ones committing them.
I am the opposite of that.
I don't lie about what I am.
I don't hide what I want.
And that's why Dante and Siddartha died without hesitation.
They still believed they could understand. That they could guide. That they could change something without becoming part of the chaos.
But chaos is not something to be defeated.
Chaos is all that remains.
And now, we walk.
The Sins by my side.
The sky, in ruins behind us.
And the future?
The future never mattered.
Time is a lie.