An Eminence? No, I am just a reaper (OC story)

The snap of a finger

Speech =''...''

Thoughts = [........]

ºº

There was something eerily wrong about mankind..., was it not?

It was a lingering feeling crawling beneath dusty claws, a faceless voice at the back of his mind. A sun clouded by layer upon layer of clouds in the middle of an eclipse...

Something that was easy to push back each and every time it aroused, but like the skies that remained above his head, they would be ever present.

How easy it was for simple things crafted by their small, mortal hands to be turned into something so far and different from their original purpose...

How the fire that had granted them life and protection through the first steps of those primitive tribes was then used to burn people alive in mass. How harpoons meant to obtain substance from the oceans and rivers were magnified to lance through ships and men alike just like those old fishermen did before through convoluted mechanisms. How even tools made for the extraction of wood were then turned in kind to saw through flesh and bone.

Ironic, was it not? For a species that in a more modern, social standing preached for peace an understanding at some sort of level... none had cared or found such revelations or concepts disturbing or anathema to their desires for a peaceful life. Much to the contrary, they were accepted for those who had taken notice, or vastly ignored by the rest...

Why?

Why indeed...

The answer was simple, yet so more strange to believe from the lenses of ignorance.

And the truth was that there was an inner darkness deep within the hearts of his kin..., a desire for violence, a need for conflict deeply bred into their psyche through their evolutionary process.

They demanded to be treaty with honesty yet they were willing to lie to hide their own insecurities.

They wanted to be lauded for their own exploits, yet allowed themselves to be eaten alive by their envy of others

They were willing to kill others for no reason at all, yet if those they wronged fought back it was unfair and wrong..

Perhaps the gods were to blame for their troublesome meddling, in their need to be everywhere and rule everything just like the unlucky beast men who had been made in the forms of their whims, cursed to be nothing but madden monsters in the land they trod and wondered with no purpose...

Perhaps it was just the work of their own genetics at play..., throwing down the drain the voices of thousands of intellectuals who claimed otherwise as their more primitive vestiges remained too strong to be isolated.

But looking back, did it really matter? No, life was war..., it was cruel, it was sadistic. It put everyone down through the mud and only the strong survived. And perhaps not even them managed to do so...

Conflict created struggle, struggle created suffering, suffering led to anger, anger led to bloodshed and then the cycle repeated a new. Never changing, never stopping..., even if it took hundreds of years, perhaps changing form, but never its results..

Mortals were both the marble and the sculptor of their own character...

Many had romanticized and mystify the stories of their origins, hoping to create a common background to rally behind, to make excuses for their future sins in the name of glory, justice or birth right.