❦𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐨𝐫𝐯𝐚 𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐫❦【 DreamSMP // Technoblade 】

❦Eighty One❦

[fanart above by inkphobic !!! I'm behind on crediting a lot of fanartists and showing y'all a lot of fanart, so you'll be getting a lot of fanart Torva content. I'll probably be doing one per chapter until I inevitably run out.]

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"New beginnings don't always mean new people."
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A thick fog encapsulated all visible land, and soon all that could be seen was ones own hands in front of their face. The red overcame and swallowed all it encountered, destroying the breath of life that covered the land.

Or maybe it was simply replacing the life already present, anybody could tell the vine like monsters were nothing short of blistering with animation.

Vines reached like veins, latching onto all it could and taking all within its reach. Like a hive mind they moved and thought in unison, expanding the reach they had day by day. Not one soul dared to utter a word about the new life, almost fearful it could hear them.

It was alien.

Avoid.

Recede.

Avoid.

Don't touch.

Don't go near.

The vines skirted away from a certain patch of land, encapsulated by a grey border and kept safe by a spout of water. Holy water.

A white church stood strong in the center of the untouched land, purified waters guaranteeing the safety.

The holy land.

Who would win in a battle of good and evil? The holy or the damned? Who is to say what is holy and what is out for blood? What divides the two sides, is it morals or followers? And at what point do two extremes collide and create one greater evil?

Morality is something humanity has debated for as long as it has existed. Can one truly ever answer the question of good and evil? They have always said beauty is in the eye of the beholder after all.

So those who are morally blind, can they see good and evil? Do they care at all? Their existence proves people can live without the constant suffering and weight of the question 'am I a good person?'.

As an aftereffect, one can be left with a singular question, what will be our downfall? The overly conscious and worrisome, indefinitely terrified with their fate and morals. Or perhaps those who have gone beyond caring for what comes of those around them. At what point will these two extremes diverge, while those in the morally grey watch them crash and burn?

And so is the ever raging war, of good and evil, a war where the line is so blurred nobody can tell if it ever even existed.

The Gods and Goddesses will watch and laugh at the mortals foolish games, sending down their own to poke and prod at the quarrels.

Humanity has never seen true evil.

Humanity has never seen true purity.

The Angel of Death was shaking, his sword falling to the ground with a deafening echo. He had to stop a sob from ripping out of his throat, and the God's eyes wandered to his hands, shaking and coated in blue blood. Was it even blood? What did ghosts bleed?

In all of his millennia of existing, nothing could match the pain that seemed to physically hurt his frame after killing his son yet again. It didn't matter that it was his ghost, it didn't matter that he was doing it to preform a revival ritual.