Chapter 4.1: (The nightmarish past)
"rocks blocking the entrance? Hmmm"
"Can I ask you a question?" I ask
Then he replied "feel free to ask anything you want."
"What happened? How did you end up chained up like this?" I asked, curious to know more.
"It's just a war nothing out of the ordinary. Different kinds of powerful beings like gods, primordials, cosmic beings, and other mysterious creatures are all involved. There are divine beings, demons, titans, giants, monsters, elves, dwarfs, fairy, dragons, beastkins, mutants, undead, demi-humans, chimera, and beings we don't even know about yet. It's a chaotic mess with everyone fighting each other."
"Wars in this world tend to begin due to a range of familiar reasons such as struggles for wealth and resources, disagreements over territory and borders, power-hungry rulers seeking domination, deep-rooted cultural and religious tensions, fights over trade routes and strategic locations, retaliatory actions or feuds between rival factions, quests for vengeance or justice, and the desire for expansion and conquest."
"And the very root of war is the people that are, Corrupt and had a selfish nature,
Exploitative and opportunistic behavior,
Lack of integrity and moral compass,
Short-sighted and narrow-minded,
Greed-driven ambitions,
Entitlement and superiority complex,
Cunning and manipulative tactics,
Lack of empathy and concern for others,
Unchecked ambition and desire for control, and Narcissistic and egotistical personality traits"
"In every time period, there are new wars that cause pain and suffering. You can see blood on the ground and smell it in the air. People cry for their lost loved ones, and some are filled with anger."
"Even gods, not just mortals"
"As one of the gods that protecting the human world, I was chained and hidden away—because I am vital to its survival. My existence holds great importance, and so I had to be kept far from others, far from influence or interference. But then a war broke out and I refused to remain silent. I fought back. And that... that is why they bound me in these chains. my people are guarding this place with their lives until the very end."
He moved, just slightly. That one motion was enough to rattle the chains "These chains," he whispered, "are unbreakable. Wrought from the corpse of gods and thousand real dying stars. No matter how many times I resist... no matter how many eons passed"
"A god...?"
The words slipped out of my mouth like a bitter taste I couldn't swallow. I stared at the towering figure before me—then I felt something cold rise in my chest. Not fear. Not awe. But disgust.
"Don't give me that," I muttered, my voice low and trembling with something close to rage. "Don't play games with me. Don't speak to me about gods as if those *things* still means anything and they exist."
I took one step forward. My fists clenched at my sides, trembling. My throat burned.
"If there really is a living god, then tell me why do you even exist. Why did you just watch and let people suffer?"
My loud voice echoed, but the so-called god didn't flinch. And that infuriated me even more.
"Fine," I said, half-laughing, half-choking on my own disbelief. "Let's pretend for a moment. Let's say I believe you. That you are a god. All-powerful. All-knowing. Eternal." I narrowed my eyes, my voice thick with venom. "Then tell me something."
I raised my voice again, each word cutting through the air like a blade.
"You said it's because of war that you ended up like this, right? Then tell me, why is it always war?! Why is it that no matter the world, no matter the era, no matter the damn time—people always choose blood over mercy!? Pain over peace!? Violence over understanding!?"
I was shouting now, but I didn't care. My heart was pounding, my chest tight with the weight of a thousand questions I had carried my whole life that the gods that I prayed for everyday doesn't even give me a blessing But in return those gods took everything precious to me no matter how I beg them to save me from those nightmares.
My hands were trembling, not with fear—but with grief.
"If you're really a god, then *why* can't you stop it? Why can't you stop the screams, the starvation? The mothers crying over empty cradles and the children burying their parents in dirt and mud?! Why do people have to suffer, starve, and die in wars they never chose!? Why do they have to experience things worse than death... and still wake up breathing!?"
My voice finally cracked, my vision blurring. I took one more step forward, and whispered—broken, desperate. "Tell me... what kind of god watches all that—and does *nothing*?"
"The answer is easy and simple."
Then he calmly replied "War happens to gain freedom. To bring back peace. To earn respect. To take back power."
"War is the fastest way to change things. That's why people choose it. It's loud. It's quick. It feels strong. And for a moment, it makes the weak feel powerful."
"But in reality war is only strong on the *outside*. On the *inside*... war is weak. It is fear pretending to be courage. It is pride hiding inside anger."
"People say war gives freedom. Sometimes, yes. But often... it only gives more chains. Chains made of guilt. Of loss. Of sorrow."
"People say war brings peace. But most times, it only brings silence. Not peace... just quiet graves and tired survivors."
"And power won through blood? That power does not last. Because if you rule by fear, you must always fear the day someone no longer fears you."
"Because some people only hear the sound of violence. Some rulers will not step down unless pushed by force. Some chains cannot be cut by words alone."
"And when justice is silent... when peace is laughed at... when kindness is crushed under their foot... and when hope have been all drowned"
"...Then war becomes the last choice/answer left."
"I'm not proud of war. I do not call it brave. It is not holy. It is not pure. It is not wise"
"It is a permanent wound. A wound that never truly heals. Even when the battle is over, the pain walks quietly into the future."
"The war you start will not die with you.
It will live on.
In the eyes of the children who wake up crying.
In the fields that forget how to grow.
In the hands of the next generation who must rebuild what you destroyed."
"If you start war today... you are not just choosing for yourself. You are choosing for those who come after you. For the children not yet born. For the homes not yet built. For the graves that will one day carry your name."
"The sword you lift now may one day fall on your own blood."
"War is never the right answer.
But sometimes... it is the last one left."
"So yes... War should happen—when all else has been crushed. When voices are stolen. When hope is killed. When peace is buried. When freedom is rubbed from people."
"But even then... even *then*—war is never the *right* answer. It is only the *last* answer. The answer left behind after every other path has been broken, finds that... war is the last and only answer."
"And tell me—why should I intervene?"
"Humans were created with sight, thought, and will. They possess the ability to understand, to survive, to choose. Yet even with all they've been given, they walk the path of destruction by their own hands. If they insist on breaking themselves, why should I stop them?"
"Gods gave them language so they could communicate, so they could end conflict, build peace, and understand one another. But they turned it into a tool for deception—twisting words into lies, using speech to manipulate, to betray, to control."
"Gods gave them hands—capable of creating, comforting, and healing. But they use them to harm, to strike, to steal. With the same hands meant to lift protect, they tear each other down."
"Gods gave them legs so they could walk toward truth, stand for justice, and journey into light. But instead, they turn their backs. They flee from truth. They run from responsibility."
"Gods gave them eyes—not just to see, but to recognize, to witness, to understand. And yet they use them to judge, to look down on others, to turn a blind eye when injustice stands right before them."
"Gods gave them ears to hear—not only sound, but truth. To listen to the cries of the people who suffer, the wisdom of the past, the warnings of the present. But they silence what they don't want to hear. They choose deafness when the truth becomes inconvenient."
"Gods gave them everything. Far more than they ever earned. And still, they never fail to disappoint."
"They use what they were given to deceive, to conquer, to take what does not belong to them. They draw lines in the lands and sea and call it their own, as if wealth grants them ownership of the world. They hurt others in the name of faith, declaring themselves holier than the rest—blinded by arrogance."
"They persecute those who are different and claim it is for peace. But it is not peace they seek. It is dominance. Satisfaction in control. Power disguised as protection."
"why should I intervene? When those we gave everything to... chose to become this?"
"The only ones who can truly destroy humanity... are themselves. And the only ones who can truly save them... are also themselves. We gave them everything they needed—reason, free will, the ability to choose between right and wrong. But they still walk willingly into their own ruin. So tell me... why should I step in to fix what they destroyed with their own hands? Why should I interfere when they continue to chose and chase their own downfall, fully aware of what they do?"
"They fall to their knees when they're desperate— Not in humility, but in hunger for power. They call out to any being, any force, even darkness itself, As long as it promises them strength, revenge, wisdom, wealth or victory. They were born with the strength to resist temptation, But time and again, they choose power over peace. Pride over humility. Hatred over love. They chase shadows, ignoring the light that surrounds them. They embrace fire, not warmth, but destruction. They choose evil not out of ignorance—but because it's easier, because it promises more, faster."
"And they worship. Not out of faith, not out of love— But because they expect something in return. Their devotion is a bargain. Their prayers, a transaction. They bow only to be granted their desires."
"And yet despite all of this we didn't abandoned them."
"Even now, we watch. Even now, we grieve. We are bound by laws older than time— Laws that forbid direct intervention (devine intervention) in the affairs of mortals. And still... some among us have broken those laws. Because we still hope and because we still care."
"Not because they deserve it... But because we remember the light they once carried. Because we believe, in the smallest corners of their hearts, There may still be something worth saving."
"So no—we did not abandon them. But there comes a time when even gods must let their children walk alone... Even if the path leads to ruin."
I snapped. My voice trembled with anger, but I didn't care. "What do you expect from us?! You gods made us humans imperfect! Life isn't all rainbows and sunshine!"
Then I spoke and add, my voice trembling as the weight of old memories began to drown me.
"Some people... they only became sinners because you gods forced them onto that fate. pushing them deeper and deeper into sin... until there was no room left for goodness and hope"
For a moment, there was silence. Then He replied—not with anger, but with a calm, steady voice that cut through my rage.
"You're right," He said. "Life isn't always rainbows and sunshine. But that doesn't mean those things don't exist. Just because there is pain doesn't mean there's no joy. Just because there's darkness doesn't mean there's no light."
He looked at me—not with judgment, but with something far heavier called understanding.
"We made you humans imperfect for a reason. Not as a punishment—but as a gift. Imperfection allows you to adapt, to grow. It teaches you how to feel, to love, to fall, to rise. You learn what it means to be hungry so you can understand gratitude. You feel pain so you can know compassion. You feel fear so you can learn courage. You feel loneliness so you can understand connection."
His voice now became softer. "Perfection would mean there's nothing left to learn, no reason to love, no struggle to survive, no journey to take. Without growth, there is no story. Without imperfection, there is no humanity."
He look at my eyes. "Your flaws... they are not your curse. They are your purpose. They are the very reason we still fight for humanity. Even when you fall, even when you stray, even when you sin—we still hope. Because even if the world turns its back on you, even if your fellow humans or the gods themselves abandon you, you are still a creation we once loved... and still do."
"You are imperfect. And that is exactly why you matter."
Then he asked, "Did I answer your question?" And just like that, my strength began to fade. Even the rage I held so tightly slipped through my fingers.
In my thought, "He's right. No matter how angry I was, no matter how desperate... what happened will always have happened, Trying to blame him for something he's not even responsible for. I sound like a immature child"
"A painful memories is still memories, I know that but what do I need to do for this burden this pain dissappear from my chest"
Then I clenched my teeth so hard I could taste blood. I held onto the anger burning inside me because without it, how was I supposed to keep moving forward? After everything that happened to me... who else could I hate, if not the gods? But I couldn't direct it at him not fully. So I buried that hatred deeper, where no one could see it. Let it fester quietly, far beneath the surface, where even *For a while* I pretended it didn't exist.