Gods Can Fail (Book 1)

Chapter 78 - Drenched in Insanity

In the bustling city of Tamasi, Voidanos sat on the worn wooden bench in front of his modest home on a warm afternoon. The sun cast long shadows across the street as his peers, clad in their neat school uniforms, walked by in animated groups. Laughter and chatter filled the air, but Voidanos remained silent, a solitary figure observing from the sidelines.

These students moved in tightly-knit circles, their camaraderie evident in their playful banter and shared jokes. Voidanos couldn't help but feel a pang of envy as he watched them, their interactions a stark contrast to his own isolated existence. Occasionally, a few of them would glance his way, their faces contorting with expressions of contempt or indifference. He was accustomed to these reactions, yet each one stung just as sharply as the first.

Voidanos' social status marked him as an outsider, a label he had borne for as long as he could remember. This invisible barrier kept him at a distance from others, fostering a sense of isolation that he had come to accept, albeit reluctantly. To avoid the scornful gazes and whispered comments, Voidanos kept his eyes lowered, his gaze fixed on the ground or on the pages of a book he always carried with him.

Books were his refuge, his escape from the harsh reality of his daily life. Within the pages of his beloved novels, Voidanos found solace and adventure, a world where he could be anyone and go anywhere. These stories transported him to distant lands, introduced him to characters who became his friends, and provided a temporary reprieve from the loneliness that gnawed at his spirit.

"Voidanos!" Morana greeted him from a distance as she made her way to school.

"Why are you talking to him?"

"Stay away from him!" her friends admonished.

Voidanos often ignored these antagonistic voices, which were not worth illustrating. However, for some mysterious reason, the voices had become much louder. Perhaps the protective wall of his consciousness was gradually weakening against these calls, these oppositions born simply from a survival instinct. He shyly greeted Morana back, as her figure gradually faded into the distance. In his hand, he held the book he had read to her one day.

Voidanos felt a strange mixture of emotions as he watched Morana disappear into the crowd of students. She was one of the few who ever spoke to him, and her kindness, though rare, was a precious balm to his wounded spirit. Her friends' hostility, however, was a stark reminder of the social barriers that kept him isolated.

The book in his hand was a cherished possession, a story they had shared one afternoon when she had stopped by his bench. It was a moment he replayed often in his mind, a brief escape from his lonely reality. But now, even that memory seemed threatened by the increasing volume of disdain from those around him.

Voidanos couldn't help but wonder why the voices were growing louder, why the protective barrier he had built was crumbling. Each sneer and harsh word seemed to chip away at his defenses, making it harder to retreat into his sanctuary of books. He clung to the novel, hoping it would provide some comfort and shield him from the harshness of the world outside.

"I don't know why I feel like I'm in a nightmare. Dad has gone on another expedition. Dad, please come back quickly today," Voidanos murmured to himself, his voice tinged with a sadness he couldn't quite understand.

Meanwhile, in the capital of the angels, Saint Zagra, the situation was completely different. The city lay in ruins, bodies of dead angels sprawled with their eyes open, staring blankly at the sky. Severed limbs, rivers of blood, and flames engulfed every corner of this once divine city, now utterly destroyed. In the center of tens of thousands of terrified angel soldiers stood the cherubim, Thranatis, his foot planted firmly on the soldier he had devoured.