If the army is marched into the city, there can be no going back. The army can be brought into the society, and used to take over, or bring order, but once it marches in it cannot be taken out. For the soldiers in the army and the citizens in the city are of the same kin. Once the rift is carved between one part of a family and another, the generation is broken. And broken it is easy prey to tyranny. The traumatized and guilty surrender to the force that promises to bridge the rift.
And so, in the Red Year, the Imperialist regiments marched through the gates of the city. They barely needed to fight, except in a few hard places. Trumpets and drums played, as if the whole affair was a festival. Again and again the same martial tune, as a trance. The music rang on, while the armed forces filled the streets like a flood, converging on the main square, filling all space. The effect on the minds would linger far longer than the force that had been applied here and there.
Imperial troops charged over the pavements on both sides of the street. In their midst, on the emptied street, walked the Emperor. He walked in a calm manner, in his long robe, without weapon. He came up with them, in his mind and theirs the verses of Empire: now I am one with the sword, for now I am one with the word.
The troops overwhelmed every pocket of opposition, so that the Emperor's procession could go unhindered to the central citadel. The various anti-imperialists had proclaimed that the Emperor would be unwelcome in the citadel. This was the Imperial answer. No plea of surrender was heeded now. The Emperor's procession flattened all before it like an avalanche.
In the end, the Emperor slowly climbed the steps of the citadel. His soldiers stood in silence. The city was quiet. Then he turned to them, as they waited in silence, and he spoke to them thus from the stairs of the palace:
'My sons. We stand again together in the house of our people, and it is whole again, and bows to no one. You were once orphans of the wars among our people, but now you have a watchful eye over you, and you are carried on the hand of the greatest power.
To live, to love, to create life, to engrave one's acts into the world. To war. Safety is a lie. Life in struggle for a cause is a true life. We choose to wage this war of wars, not because it is easy, but because it is hard. Because carrying out the near impossible we become more than mere mortals, more than fearful little beings, more than mere animals.
To live to see the proud masses of waving flags born in battles. People tell of war, stressing the beginning, end, and winner.
But that does not tell the tale. For it is within it that we experience the universe of war, when the reality that is so different from commonplace life stretches from horizon to horizon, over all days, until all that we know is battle, preparation for battle, and the aftermath. War is all then. Survival or death. That is the great filtering.
All that we can ever have is victory. All that we can ever do is take it. Unleash emotion in yourself. The wish for glory, the craving for greatness, unleash them, all! The solution to conflicts is victory. When in doubt, use force! Feel the raw taste of relentlessness, feel the brotherhood of vast legions beside you, bathe in the sensation of dominion that stretches from horizon to horizon. Feel how every good thing becomes possible within the cleansed plane, how different from the corrupted sloth of before. Now, we can stand tall. Now we have a future, for we have untangled ourselves from the swamp of the past. We are one, across mountains and rivers, clothed in the holy flag that is everywhere. How great, to find that pivot of the world, that pinnacle, that one man might utter word, and the word become act, the act pushing the pivot, and the world turn. Come with us, touch the holy banners, and be absolved.'
They shuffled forward, and touched the red banner, and felt a weight lift off their hearts. It was replaced by another weight, but they did not know themselves, and all that they had lost. They knelt in circles outwards from the shrine, the whole place filled with red capes and banners.
'One day, the Empire will fall, and there will be a return to the tapestry of many nations. But remember this time. Know you are the greatest. For I tell you: the Empire will come again. I do not know the greater, the true empire that will come, the realm of spirit, for we are onto it imperfect, but keep the greatness in your heart, for they are keys to something that is true. For how can the feeling inside, the Imperialist sentiment, be all greedy and malevolent, when it is there besides love for the woman, love of good life, the feeling of oneness with our ancestors, and the sense of destiny?
So I give onto you this as Word: go, and taste victory, feed the hunger of our nation with glory, go, and advance on all fronts!'
And he spread out his robed arms, and the vast crowd erupted in a cheer such as had never been. Their banners waved in the breeze before him, and the time was theirs. The hour would come when it would be asked of them to do certain deeds, and they would call out: this is not what we had agreed upon. You cannot ask us to do this! They would re-learn, that they saw the lies back then too, but were glad to believe them.
And so they arose, and left from that centre, out to take empire to the world. The golden-red emblem of the arisen winged sword spread out, like a sunrise, like a plague, like a blessing, like a dream. Of the past and its memory they were rid then, and there was a silence of spirit then.
The Last Vestige of Humanity
In the end, when time fades, when history comes to a halt, where after nothing of meaning remains, there is the time of the last vestige. One walled citadel of humanity left in the lands swallowed by darkness, in which everyone day and night manned the defences. The subhuman hordes could not take it, but lay siege in a great hate and lust against the high fairness. There was no hope, for they were outnumbered beyond measure, and the subhumans multiplied as the resources in the city dwindled.
How the lands had been before they were overtaken. How fair the cities, the planes of freedom and law, the names and history of lands, the greater good and peace, wherein the fragile and fair could grow. All is overrun, plundered, raped, sacked, swallowed by the consuming chaos. Though all earth they have eaten, the last bastion is not taken yet. Only at such time, when all that is material is no more, does the spirit of humanity see itself, in the time left before the things crush the last remnants of what was before and snuff out the last light in the world.
The last bastion of humanity. The inner law, that through ages slowly arose, the instinct that tells us what is right, makes us love good and hate evil, and this bastion the enemies of humanity are too far removed from to be able to destroy. All the little things... forever broken. The tears of our ancestors that have been before. Do not forget us. Forget not one day of inequity, not one night of fear, not one act of rape, but keep it. Keep it in a black book in your mind.
The beings at the end look onto the beings of before, through time, and their eyes send forth thunderbolts of anger at the betrayal. You did this. You let the subhumans into our gates, into our lands, let them multiply and take over, attacked any one among you who dared utter a world against the sinking into animalistic barbarism of the great civilizations. You, we curse you, to live through what we live through, to know the evil fruit of your deeds upon your own being.
Let those who embrace the subhumans, as the shortsighted adopt a cub wolf, only to be torn to pieces by the animal when it matures, let these be delivered onto the subhuman masses without inner law. Let the fruits of choices be forced onto those who choose them.
All is forsaken. But hope, that the guardians at the end keep. That little thing the weak hold when all else is lost. All will fall, and the spirits of the weak shall be left to roam and give witness in a world from which they have made a hell. Those who serve what is greater good, they rise to the heavens to live with the gods. Those who are weak may fall down, because they gave in to weakness, and of corrupt barbarism be playthings.
And as the spirits at the end of things look opon the past, they see themselves. For it was they who turned away the ragged remnants of other civilizations, who had come in refuge from the torment of the hordes of subhumanity.
Remember the messenger that was sent away. And then they were swallowed up into the darkness, and then the beast came towards our realm, and we sent message asking for help to others, hoping that they might choose differently than we had.
Remember when the refugee messengers had come to the bright city, and were received in silence, and strode in the shame of their raggedness and exile. And the words that could not convey the immensity of what was coming:
'Let my name be forgotten and my being cast into nothingness if I speak any untruthfulness. I stand before thee, but cannot give you the message I have been sent with. It is with tear in my eye that I realise I cannot bring to you in word the things that I must warn you about. And I would not, for it is darkness. To make you see as I see that it is evil, you must undergo what we have undergone, but that is great torment, and you would not undergo it freely.
You see, to lighten your spirit I must darken your soul, and how could I do that? Know only this then: there is torment, there is slavery, and pain without cause, and it will come upon you too, if not stopped. This danger lies many lands away. It is coming this way, advancing like night, unstoppable. The ones in its way can only halt it for a while. Most do not realise that they must stand together, until it is far too late. The lands that are safe care little for the ones in peril, and so one by one all are swallowed.
And I? I've come to gather storms.'
How the lands had been before they were overtaken. How fair the cities, the planes of freedom and law, the names and history of lands, the greater good and peace, wherein the fragile and fair could grow. All is overrun, plundered, raped, sacked, swallowed by the consuming chaos. Though all earth they have eaten, the last bastion is not taken yet. Only at such time, when all that is material is no more, does the spirit of humanity see itself, in the time left before the things crush the last remnants of what was before and snuff out the last light in the world.
The last bastion of humanity. The inner law, that through ages slowly arose, the instinct that tells us what is right, makes us love good and hate evil, and this bastion the enemies of humanity are too far removed from to be able to destroy. All the little things... forever broken. The tears of our ancestors that have been before. Do not forget us. Forget not one day of inequity, not one night of fear, not one act of rape, but keep it. Keep it in a black book in your mind.
The beings at the end look onto the beings of before, through time, and their eyes send forth thunderbolts of anger at the betrayal. You did this. You let the subhumans into our gates, into our lands, let them multiply and take over, attacked any one among you who dared utter a world against the sinking into animalistic barbarism of the great civilizations. You, we curse you, to live through what we live through, to know the evil fruit of your deeds upon your own being.
Let those who embrace the subhumans, as the shortsighted adopt a cub wolf, only to be torn to pieces by the animal when it matures, let these be delivered onto the subhuman masses without inner law. Let the fruits of choices be forced onto those who choose them.
All is forsaken. But hope, that the guardians at the end keep. That little thing the weak hold when all else is lost. All will fall, and the spirits of the weak shall be left to roam and give witness in a world from which they have made a hell. Those who serve what is greater good, they rise to the heavens to live with the gods. Those who are weak may fall down, because they gave in to weakness, and of corrupt barbarism be playthings.
And as the spirits at the end of things look opon the past, they see themselves. For it was they who turned away the ragged remnants of other civilizations, who had come in refuge from the torment of the hordes of subhumanity.
Remember the messenger that was sent away. And then they were swallowed up into the darkness, and then the beast came towards our realm, and we sent message asking for help to others, hoping that they might choose differently than we had.
Remember when the refugee messengers had come to the bright city, and were received in silence, and strode in the shame of their raggedness and exile. And the words that could not convey the immensity of what was coming:
'Let my name be forgotten and my being cast into nothingness if I speak any untruthfulness. I stand before thee, but cannot give you the message I have been sent with. It is with tear in my eye that I realise I cannot bring to you in word the things that I must warn you about. And I would not, for it is darkness. To make you see as I see that it is evil, you must undergo what we have undergone, but that is great torment, and you would not undergo it freely.
You see, to lighten your spirit I must darken your soul, and how could I do that? Know only this then: there is torment, there is slavery, and pain without cause, and it will come upon you too, if not stopped. This danger lies many lands away. It is coming this way, advancing like night, unstoppable. The ones in its way can only halt it for a while. Most do not realise that they must stand together, until it is far too late. The lands that are safe care little for the ones in peril, and so one by one all are swallowed.
And I? I've come to gather storms.'
Epicentre of Empire
'You murderers!'
'Murderers? That's hardly appropriate. We haven't murdered anyone here, have we? In fact, we are having a conversation... well, a discussion on the terms of your surrender. Quite civilised.'
'It is true your troops have not killed in our city. But we are no fools. We received enough reports from other towns and provinces of your indiscriminate slaughters of any and all who opposed you.'
'Indeed.'
'Indeed? You have your arms up to your shoulders in blood and yet you speak and act so at ease.'
'You have not seen me or any of my troops commit any crime. And yet you fear me. You are trembling on your feet. That is why you had to sit down. There is not one fibre in you that supports you to carry ouy any action against me. But I don't want you to suffer like that. That is why I am going to reveal to you the workings of the Emperor's plan up till now. It is almost completed, anyway. Let me take you out of your self-imposed psychosis: we did not slaughter anyone.'
'We heard many accounts from survivors who fled your advance. We know what you did!'
'Do you? Since when is the word of some people equal to truth? Those were Imperial agents my dear friend, dressed up and bruised up a bit to make it look authentic, spreading fear throughout your city. And you let them right in, destroying the moderate morale your soldiers had. You will be demoted for not recognizing and applying the separation of the demoralized from standing troops in times of crisis.
Anyway, I think only a few dozen opponents of ours were killed in the towns around here, and even less in the province. All military. None in any brutal way. On a large scale, it was quite painless.'
'But I...'
'No. Listen, my man. You and your administrators will be able to verify all that we claim. You will in fact take up functions within this new part of the Empire and carry out administration, taxation, aid to villages, reparations and what not. But that is for tomorrow.
And please learn the lesson of this: people don't tell the truth. Well, they generally do tell you about things as they perceive them, but when some faction in power, or some faction that wants power tells something in a certain way over and over again, you'd better sit down and wonder why they are saying that. What is it they have to gain? Assume the worst about their motives, and if you want the truth, enforce the neutrality of those whose job it is to get the truth.
In your travels, you will encounter many people frightened to death. That is because our campaign of fear mongering has passed through each town and city, telling of how we slaughtered and brutalised the other towns into submissions. Because we do, in fact, control the roads, there was no proof to the contrary. We took the towns one by one without much of a fight. We promised that we would hurt none that did not attack us, and we have kept our promise. We did need to explain to them what we had done. Some were angry, most relieved.
You see, a combat situation is in a larger sense about convincing an enemy that they are defeated. This is not objective, but subjective. One should never be convinced of defeat: the only situation when one is defeated is when one can no longer fight back; that is, death. Because being convinced or not is irrelevant when one is dead, convincing an enemy is a psychological process that had less to do with objective reality than people might think. At the root of many useful strategies lies the realization that this is subjective.
Once one realizes that it is not always necessary to physically defeat an enemy, possible strategies and combat efficiency increase drastically. The Emperor used this understanding to take over whole provinces with cities, populations and armies. The crucial factor proved to be control of information in a region, and therefore its nervous system. This control requires infiltration and isolation of the target. Divide and conquer is useful, and of course one’s information capabilities through an agent network must be superior to the target. With such will to power, physically powerful enemies can be convinced of their defeat by far less application of power.
This tactic won't work from now on, because we have to tell people what really happened, otherwise they will not cooperate, produce or fight for us. They will find out anyway, when commerce and travel restarts. When you take away the reason for people's anger, and they only see that there is new administration... well, things just move on without much of a fuss. There is no support for our political enemies. We are the new Empire, and you are invited to join.
I do pride myself. I was one of those who worked out the plan. I think I will call this... The Battle That Was Not Fought! The Emperor set up the grand scheme off course. His mind is quite irresistible. Amazing what one can do on the scale of population masses once one lets go of truth. Truth is like gravity, it wins in the end. But the Emperor truly gives us the wings.'
'...What goes up must come down.'
'Haha. Yes... Well, you administrators have some things to learn. For instance finding out people's reasons. If a person says something because of a reason, that person is not saying it because it is true. It is said that people want bread and games. That is wrong. People want bread and blood.
Trust me. Look at them: they are like animals. Pigs, snakes, wolves, sheep! Do they deserve power? Freedom? We give them more than enough. We feed them, lead them not as they would lead themselves, into mud and wasteland. We give them food, roof, ourselves as enlightened leaders. Sanitation, provisions, stability, progress. Just not a lot of freedom, because free animals do not do anything else than exist, and we must progress.
Report tomorrow on improving the defence works and trade network. Now, I have other matters to attend to.' And with that he left, leaving the mayor dazed and confused, like a duck hit on the head.
'Murderers? That's hardly appropriate. We haven't murdered anyone here, have we? In fact, we are having a conversation... well, a discussion on the terms of your surrender. Quite civilised.'
'It is true your troops have not killed in our city. But we are no fools. We received enough reports from other towns and provinces of your indiscriminate slaughters of any and all who opposed you.'
'Indeed.'
'Indeed? You have your arms up to your shoulders in blood and yet you speak and act so at ease.'
'You have not seen me or any of my troops commit any crime. And yet you fear me. You are trembling on your feet. That is why you had to sit down. There is not one fibre in you that supports you to carry ouy any action against me. But I don't want you to suffer like that. That is why I am going to reveal to you the workings of the Emperor's plan up till now. It is almost completed, anyway. Let me take you out of your self-imposed psychosis: we did not slaughter anyone.'
'We heard many accounts from survivors who fled your advance. We know what you did!'
'Do you? Since when is the word of some people equal to truth? Those were Imperial agents my dear friend, dressed up and bruised up a bit to make it look authentic, spreading fear throughout your city. And you let them right in, destroying the moderate morale your soldiers had. You will be demoted for not recognizing and applying the separation of the demoralized from standing troops in times of crisis.
Anyway, I think only a few dozen opponents of ours were killed in the towns around here, and even less in the province. All military. None in any brutal way. On a large scale, it was quite painless.'
'But I...'
'No. Listen, my man. You and your administrators will be able to verify all that we claim. You will in fact take up functions within this new part of the Empire and carry out administration, taxation, aid to villages, reparations and what not. But that is for tomorrow.
And please learn the lesson of this: people don't tell the truth. Well, they generally do tell you about things as they perceive them, but when some faction in power, or some faction that wants power tells something in a certain way over and over again, you'd better sit down and wonder why they are saying that. What is it they have to gain? Assume the worst about their motives, and if you want the truth, enforce the neutrality of those whose job it is to get the truth.
In your travels, you will encounter many people frightened to death. That is because our campaign of fear mongering has passed through each town and city, telling of how we slaughtered and brutalised the other towns into submissions. Because we do, in fact, control the roads, there was no proof to the contrary. We took the towns one by one without much of a fight. We promised that we would hurt none that did not attack us, and we have kept our promise. We did need to explain to them what we had done. Some were angry, most relieved.
You see, a combat situation is in a larger sense about convincing an enemy that they are defeated. This is not objective, but subjective. One should never be convinced of defeat: the only situation when one is defeated is when one can no longer fight back; that is, death. Because being convinced or not is irrelevant when one is dead, convincing an enemy is a psychological process that had less to do with objective reality than people might think. At the root of many useful strategies lies the realization that this is subjective.
Once one realizes that it is not always necessary to physically defeat an enemy, possible strategies and combat efficiency increase drastically. The Emperor used this understanding to take over whole provinces with cities, populations and armies. The crucial factor proved to be control of information in a region, and therefore its nervous system. This control requires infiltration and isolation of the target. Divide and conquer is useful, and of course one’s information capabilities through an agent network must be superior to the target. With such will to power, physically powerful enemies can be convinced of their defeat by far less application of power.
This tactic won't work from now on, because we have to tell people what really happened, otherwise they will not cooperate, produce or fight for us. They will find out anyway, when commerce and travel restarts. When you take away the reason for people's anger, and they only see that there is new administration... well, things just move on without much of a fuss. There is no support for our political enemies. We are the new Empire, and you are invited to join.
I do pride myself. I was one of those who worked out the plan. I think I will call this... The Battle That Was Not Fought! The Emperor set up the grand scheme off course. His mind is quite irresistible. Amazing what one can do on the scale of population masses once one lets go of truth. Truth is like gravity, it wins in the end. But the Emperor truly gives us the wings.'
'...What goes up must come down.'
'Haha. Yes... Well, you administrators have some things to learn. For instance finding out people's reasons. If a person says something because of a reason, that person is not saying it because it is true. It is said that people want bread and games. That is wrong. People want bread and blood.
Trust me. Look at them: they are like animals. Pigs, snakes, wolves, sheep! Do they deserve power? Freedom? We give them more than enough. We feed them, lead them not as they would lead themselves, into mud and wasteland. We give them food, roof, ourselves as enlightened leaders. Sanitation, provisions, stability, progress. Just not a lot of freedom, because free animals do not do anything else than exist, and we must progress.
Report tomorrow on improving the defence works and trade network. Now, I have other matters to attend to.' And with that he left, leaving the mayor dazed and confused, like a duck hit on the head.
The Unfought Battle
The invading army just stood there, looking to the hills.
It was difficult to believe, and almost impossible to understand.
Trying to understand was being changed in mind, and everyone tried to understand, because it was so special. And once they understood the spectacle before them, their minds crumbled as strongly as their metal armour seemed strong.
While they came armoured, with many arms, and training, and formations, the people had come dressed in white, short sleeves, no weapons, no armour, no banners, no ways of winning. They had come, men, women, and simply stood there, a bit apart, on the hills, as far as any could see into the great land. So many. So ready and prepared to die for their people, their nation, their soil.
The army could kill them. But then what? Be hated by all peoples? Arouse this great spirit of these people further, to true awakening, to an awakened state of unreasonable hatred and anger? If these men and women were prepared to die at any moment, all, for their group, then imagine their infinitely greater power when armed.
The army had their armour and weapons, but these were defenses, these formed an isolation against the dangers of the world. They were a weakness, a dangerous weakness. Without them... But these people of this land, they stood without these, strong. With them... they would be unstoppable.
So then, the leadership of the invading army dismounted, laid down in ceremonious slow acts their armour and weapons and banners and all glory and dreams of conquest, and bowed down on the grass before the great people, and asked them for forgiveness, delivering their lives into their mercy, and asking only that they might be as the children of this fearless people, and become in future time as one of them, and be granted to be fearless, and that also be granted to their children and onwards, this great infinity of collective invincibility.
Togetherness always utterly defeats the little hunger for power and fear of others of individuals. What use is power, if it is behind a wall? What need the disarmed fear, if all around them in spirit are one and eternal?
It was difficult to believe, and almost impossible to understand.
Trying to understand was being changed in mind, and everyone tried to understand, because it was so special. And once they understood the spectacle before them, their minds crumbled as strongly as their metal armour seemed strong.
While they came armoured, with many arms, and training, and formations, the people had come dressed in white, short sleeves, no weapons, no armour, no banners, no ways of winning. They had come, men, women, and simply stood there, a bit apart, on the hills, as far as any could see into the great land. So many. So ready and prepared to die for their people, their nation, their soil.
The army could kill them. But then what? Be hated by all peoples? Arouse this great spirit of these people further, to true awakening, to an awakened state of unreasonable hatred and anger? If these men and women were prepared to die at any moment, all, for their group, then imagine their infinitely greater power when armed.
The army had their armour and weapons, but these were defenses, these formed an isolation against the dangers of the world. They were a weakness, a dangerous weakness. Without them... But these people of this land, they stood without these, strong. With them... they would be unstoppable.
So then, the leadership of the invading army dismounted, laid down in ceremonious slow acts their armour and weapons and banners and all glory and dreams of conquest, and bowed down on the grass before the great people, and asked them for forgiveness, delivering their lives into their mercy, and asking only that they might be as the children of this fearless people, and become in future time as one of them, and be granted to be fearless, and that also be granted to their children and onwards, this great infinity of collective invincibility.
Togetherness always utterly defeats the little hunger for power and fear of others of individuals. What use is power, if it is behind a wall? What need the disarmed fear, if all around them in spirit are one and eternal?
The Final Battle Has Begun
You, who are reading this, and I, can never meet. But take these words. They are more precious than any possession, for they can arm your soul for what is coming. I did not choose to learn of these things, but I must tell of them, for one alone cannot hold them in mind and heart. What has been seen cannot be unseen.
You already know in your heart what I have to tell you. It is this. The cosmos has existed for immeasurable ages. The cosmos contains uncountable many worlds. Even if only few types of world can support life, these are still vast in number. It is probable that on some there evolved intelligent life. And if only one of these climbed the upwards path of evolution, their kind will have overcome the struggle of nature. Having mastered matter and energy, having defeated death, then, god-like, they will have reached a decision.
Having learned what chaos life is, they reached out to help less evolved beings. And they did what they thought was helping. But they learned what decay too much help brings about. They learned that evolution cannot be cheated. They cannot help other beings by letting them skip the struggle of nature. That path is necessary for learning, for growing spiritually, for becoming able to make sound choices.
And so, the god-like are torn between wishing to impose morality on the less evolved, and letting evolution take its course. How much can they help the less evolved, without making these decadent? Does a just balance emerge in the end if they leave worlds alone, or need it be imposed? Only raw reality can show. And so all comes to this: one simple world. No interventions, no complications. No way out but by victory. The war between good and evil brought to a deciding clash.
About the final battle-world, some things can be said. There will be a series of crises, which will either result in a dramatic improvement of the quality of humanity, or in stagnation and ruin. After a crisis will have been overcome, the situation will change until a new crisis is reached. This deterioration will transpire because of barbarism, trauma, hedonism, ignorance, and above all the inability to see reality for what it is. If all crises are dealt with, humanity will be able to continue the upwards path, and transcend towards a higher state, having permanently mastered its former animal-like state.
The final clash in nearing, but before the end of history, there comes one final crisis. Even now, the currents that are at times visible are increasing in strength, drawing in everything, until all will erupt in such a manner as is unimaginable. If one wishes to understand why, one needs to see the patterns of life, and the crucial differences between beings. Every being that has ever existed, and will ever exist, always does that which makes it feel good. Some feel pleasure when getting what they want, even when hurting others. Some beings feel pleasure when they help others. This primal difference decides everything.
This discrepancy is by birth. It cannot be mended, because we cannot change already existing beings. The evil cannot be permanently changed into good by words, hopes, prayers, material things, force, meditation or medicine.
One day there must come the last war, on this battle-plane, or else life will be the same suffering of mankind, into infinity, because that humanity will no longer be changeable, because it will be too large, and it will not submit to change, because it will be a beast that only cares for fulfilling its animal cravings.
The question then arises: how do you define a human being? By counting the number of eyes, ears, arms, legs, the type, location or size of organs, the ability to speak, think, calculate? No. It is defined above all by the absence of inhuman acts.
There are two, within the world and outside it, one beast, and one angel.
The beast despises the weaker, hates those stronger than itself, and knows nothing else than conflict with those of matching power. It denies the right of others to posses anything or be free, yet cries out with a hundred mouths when it is crossed. When it is assured of its power it lashes out at all around, tormenting others by its existence. When not sure, among those pure who do not perceive yet its evil, it tries to make itself accepted, and plans things so its true intentions will stay hidden until it be too late for those it preys upon. Upon the path of darkness the demon gives up hands, feet, eyes and ears to rule... and finds itself without hold in the world, falling into void. It cannot rule for long, for it is self-defeating and cannot find the light.
Then there is the true spirit. The warrior-angel, not bound by oath or sign, but by not being able to do wrong, and by disarming love to those whom it serves. If power means freedom, then the spirit is not powerful, for it must keep to many laws. Feeling pain, it learns to not inflict it. Seeing beauty, it wishes to not forget it. Its fate is to fight the beasts, and keep them from tearing at the world, exposing them, resisting their lures, giving up self to safeguard others. The spirit is strong, and knows truth, but has little rest, for the battle is eternal, and the prayers of those that have been wronged call out to the spirit.
Would you sell all the world to darkness to gain god-like power? Would you be tormented endlessly to save those that do not even acknowledge the higher justice? Only these two are divine, and they war without end. The one who prevails decides whether they are both exterminated or both forgiven.
These soul-defining choices are yours to make. I have only the prophecy of inevitable truth to grant you: The battle will be absolute, and one will be thrown off the world.
I have seen it. It is coming. No-one can stop it.
Victory is that which must be gained at any cost. War is the ultimate simplification: kill or be killed. Here all indirection is abandoned, and spirits take on the final role. A spirit can wait for ages, for when all shall gather, to go and carry out the final labour.
The spirits of those perished, released from pain of flesh, look onto the earth still, for they cannot depart until fate be fulfilled. They wait, praying that cleansing come. As we, the living victorious, relive the moments of our enslavement, despair and humiliation, our souls are woven with the thunder. It feels as a wound, the hate for what the subhumans had done, that we cannot undo, and cannot escape. The rage across the ages rising, coming to cleanse the face of the earth.
We are not alive. We are an army souls, dreaming while we wait for the dawn when we shall be called forth for the final battle. There is a book of fire that we keep in our hearts, in which written are all deeds. One day the book will be opened, and names will be called out. For ages we have waited for our holy war, out from torment.
The realisation, at seeing and remembering everything: these beings are not like us. Do not let revulsion at what they inflicted drive you into spiritual retreat, for that will mean that chaos will reign onwards. Hold it in you, do not forget, but make yourself the will of the Creator upon this battle-plane. Pray the implacable prayer for the obliteration of all subhumans. Pray it with words while you breathe, give it existence with swallows while you eat, enable its words as your eyelids open, pray it on the battlefield, children of the light.
Now, remember. Open the doors to the house of your memory, that you have shut for fear of what they put there. Open the gates, remember, and when you have taken it all in, then you can come with me. Rise! Never may any one deny the vengeance of the tormented. From high the souls scream for justice, and they are become star-bright.
Remember: the things that forced their entry into the plane of life, taking somehow human form. Those that must not be named. The children of light that believe anyone speaks from their heart as they do. The demon in the world that enslaved the angel, destroying her in the end. The light that housed in the world that went out, and how all was darkness, forsaken, convulsed upon itself, wailing, trying to light the innocent candle anew.
And, after the end, the rebellion against chaos, soul by soul pushing the doors of darkness back, and then, the unbelievable feeling of victory. Not knowing that triumph would come until it was here. The ultimate victory of the children of light over the killing-things, the mass-killings-things, the home-crushers, the killers-from-far, the breakers-of-spirits, the mind-destroyers. Those that torture in secret, that mutilate their mark upon all, and hate the freedom of others. The opening of eyes and minds to the reality. The uncovering of the parasites. The moment in time when the awakened not yet enacted their reaction, but the subhumans realised what would happen. The cleansing.
You already know in your heart what I have to tell you. It is this. The cosmos has existed for immeasurable ages. The cosmos contains uncountable many worlds. Even if only few types of world can support life, these are still vast in number. It is probable that on some there evolved intelligent life. And if only one of these climbed the upwards path of evolution, their kind will have overcome the struggle of nature. Having mastered matter and energy, having defeated death, then, god-like, they will have reached a decision.
Having learned what chaos life is, they reached out to help less evolved beings. And they did what they thought was helping. But they learned what decay too much help brings about. They learned that evolution cannot be cheated. They cannot help other beings by letting them skip the struggle of nature. That path is necessary for learning, for growing spiritually, for becoming able to make sound choices.
And so, the god-like are torn between wishing to impose morality on the less evolved, and letting evolution take its course. How much can they help the less evolved, without making these decadent? Does a just balance emerge in the end if they leave worlds alone, or need it be imposed? Only raw reality can show. And so all comes to this: one simple world. No interventions, no complications. No way out but by victory. The war between good and evil brought to a deciding clash.
About the final battle-world, some things can be said. There will be a series of crises, which will either result in a dramatic improvement of the quality of humanity, or in stagnation and ruin. After a crisis will have been overcome, the situation will change until a new crisis is reached. This deterioration will transpire because of barbarism, trauma, hedonism, ignorance, and above all the inability to see reality for what it is. If all crises are dealt with, humanity will be able to continue the upwards path, and transcend towards a higher state, having permanently mastered its former animal-like state.
The final clash in nearing, but before the end of history, there comes one final crisis. Even now, the currents that are at times visible are increasing in strength, drawing in everything, until all will erupt in such a manner as is unimaginable. If one wishes to understand why, one needs to see the patterns of life, and the crucial differences between beings. Every being that has ever existed, and will ever exist, always does that which makes it feel good. Some feel pleasure when getting what they want, even when hurting others. Some beings feel pleasure when they help others. This primal difference decides everything.
This discrepancy is by birth. It cannot be mended, because we cannot change already existing beings. The evil cannot be permanently changed into good by words, hopes, prayers, material things, force, meditation or medicine.
One day there must come the last war, on this battle-plane, or else life will be the same suffering of mankind, into infinity, because that humanity will no longer be changeable, because it will be too large, and it will not submit to change, because it will be a beast that only cares for fulfilling its animal cravings.
The question then arises: how do you define a human being? By counting the number of eyes, ears, arms, legs, the type, location or size of organs, the ability to speak, think, calculate? No. It is defined above all by the absence of inhuman acts.
There are two, within the world and outside it, one beast, and one angel.
The beast despises the weaker, hates those stronger than itself, and knows nothing else than conflict with those of matching power. It denies the right of others to posses anything or be free, yet cries out with a hundred mouths when it is crossed. When it is assured of its power it lashes out at all around, tormenting others by its existence. When not sure, among those pure who do not perceive yet its evil, it tries to make itself accepted, and plans things so its true intentions will stay hidden until it be too late for those it preys upon. Upon the path of darkness the demon gives up hands, feet, eyes and ears to rule... and finds itself without hold in the world, falling into void. It cannot rule for long, for it is self-defeating and cannot find the light.
Then there is the true spirit. The warrior-angel, not bound by oath or sign, but by not being able to do wrong, and by disarming love to those whom it serves. If power means freedom, then the spirit is not powerful, for it must keep to many laws. Feeling pain, it learns to not inflict it. Seeing beauty, it wishes to not forget it. Its fate is to fight the beasts, and keep them from tearing at the world, exposing them, resisting their lures, giving up self to safeguard others. The spirit is strong, and knows truth, but has little rest, for the battle is eternal, and the prayers of those that have been wronged call out to the spirit.
Would you sell all the world to darkness to gain god-like power? Would you be tormented endlessly to save those that do not even acknowledge the higher justice? Only these two are divine, and they war without end. The one who prevails decides whether they are both exterminated or both forgiven.
These soul-defining choices are yours to make. I have only the prophecy of inevitable truth to grant you: The battle will be absolute, and one will be thrown off the world.
I have seen it. It is coming. No-one can stop it.
Victory is that which must be gained at any cost. War is the ultimate simplification: kill or be killed. Here all indirection is abandoned, and spirits take on the final role. A spirit can wait for ages, for when all shall gather, to go and carry out the final labour.
The spirits of those perished, released from pain of flesh, look onto the earth still, for they cannot depart until fate be fulfilled. They wait, praying that cleansing come. As we, the living victorious, relive the moments of our enslavement, despair and humiliation, our souls are woven with the thunder. It feels as a wound, the hate for what the subhumans had done, that we cannot undo, and cannot escape. The rage across the ages rising, coming to cleanse the face of the earth.
We are not alive. We are an army souls, dreaming while we wait for the dawn when we shall be called forth for the final battle. There is a book of fire that we keep in our hearts, in which written are all deeds. One day the book will be opened, and names will be called out. For ages we have waited for our holy war, out from torment.
The realisation, at seeing and remembering everything: these beings are not like us. Do not let revulsion at what they inflicted drive you into spiritual retreat, for that will mean that chaos will reign onwards. Hold it in you, do not forget, but make yourself the will of the Creator upon this battle-plane. Pray the implacable prayer for the obliteration of all subhumans. Pray it with words while you breathe, give it existence with swallows while you eat, enable its words as your eyelids open, pray it on the battlefield, children of the light.
Now, remember. Open the doors to the house of your memory, that you have shut for fear of what they put there. Open the gates, remember, and when you have taken it all in, then you can come with me. Rise! Never may any one deny the vengeance of the tormented. From high the souls scream for justice, and they are become star-bright.
Remember: the things that forced their entry into the plane of life, taking somehow human form. Those that must not be named. The children of light that believe anyone speaks from their heart as they do. The demon in the world that enslaved the angel, destroying her in the end. The light that housed in the world that went out, and how all was darkness, forsaken, convulsed upon itself, wailing, trying to light the innocent candle anew.
And, after the end, the rebellion against chaos, soul by soul pushing the doors of darkness back, and then, the unbelievable feeling of victory. Not knowing that triumph would come until it was here. The ultimate victory of the children of light over the killing-things, the mass-killings-things, the home-crushers, the killers-from-far, the breakers-of-spirits, the mind-destroyers. Those that torture in secret, that mutilate their mark upon all, and hate the freedom of others. The opening of eyes and minds to the reality. The uncovering of the parasites. The moment in time when the awakened not yet enacted their reaction, but the subhumans realised what would happen. The cleansing.
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