Vol. 3 Chap. 25 Sharing the Good News

Vol. 3 Chap. 25 Sharing the Good News

He knew it was coming, and yet, the answer still threw him. Odd.

“You want to share this world with demons as equals. As a way to combat despair and the diseases of despair.”

“Sounds like a leap?” Terry smiled.

“Just a smidge.”

“It should. Demons are dangerous, no question about it. Like fire and cosmic energy, used carelessly or maliciously, they will certainly be fatal. Or worse.”

“Right. That is exactly the concern.” Truth nodded, certain that they weren’t understanding each other.

“The problem stems from an issue of language, first and foremost. Our language for describing demons, and our relationship with demons, is inevitably religious in origin. Be it Pragerite, Desrin, or even Siphios, it is always religious. And with that comes all the prejudices and assumptions built into their given theologies.

“For example, Jeongo doesn't make a distinction between the supernatural spirits that are native to this world, beings that should really be called “natural spirits,” and those denizens of Hell. Even words like “spirit” or “ghost” get muddied up with demons, as the distinction between a “spirit” and a “demon” is generally how beneficial it is to humans, not to its point of origin.” Terry threw up his hands in exhausted frustration.

Truth nodded. He remembered noticing something along those lines in Xandre- Merkovah was downright pleasant to some of the building spirits and guardian “demons,” for all that he tortured the Hell out of things from... well... Hell.

“When you get right down to it, the word “supernatural” is, itself, completely suspect. These beings are not “above” nature or the natural. They are a part of it. Often a part we cannot directly touch or influence without magic, but no less natural for all that. We exist in an ecosystem, Mr. Malduci. An ecosystem of living, physical beings that rely on consuming matter to live, and other beings, often less physical, that survive on more than mere flesh.”

Truth let his thoughts race ahead of the conversation. “You think our ecosystem is out of balance, and as a result, people have insufficient exposure to demons, however defined. But I am missing that last step.”

“Specifically, those demons summoned up from Hell. Don’t you find it absurd, Mr. Malduci, that we can know, categorically, that Hell exists and that sinners suffer there eternally, and yet sin continues to exist? Not just exist, sin, however defined, is the norm. Yet we also know that not all souls go to Hell, that Heaven is a real place, and there is even some indication that a sort of reincarnation is possible for some people. Though obviously that latter point is intensely disputed. We take no position on it.”

Truth hadn’t heard much about the reincarnation thing but had long since accepted his ignorance of the world.

“So, what’s the answer?”

“We don’t have one. It’s a messed up situation, and no few of us come to the conclusion that humanity is so utterly, irredeemably evil that even the certainty of an eternity in Hell is not enough to dissuade us from our evil ways. The fact that there is no coherent, proven theology to guide us away from sin is another “delightful” wrinkle. A perfect little anxiety generator, something to really propel the engines of despair. You can do your very, very best to be good, but if you didn’t say just the right prayer at just the right time? Straight to Hell you go.”

“Ah. Having literal infernal demons directly involved in people’s lives will bring home the reality of eternal torment in a way that preaching cannot.”

“Exactly. Exactly. We make this world a microcosm of Hell, our own crude approximation of eternal torment, because we do not truly understand the secular realities of our spiritual teachings. We call for social reform to break this cycle. Liberate the people from despair. And we do it through demon integration. People must understand with their bodies what their minds refuse to learn.”

Truth nodded thoughtfully at that. What a shame. He actually agreed with a lot of their observations, but they lost him at the end. Bit like the Anti-Theists, actually. Oh well, time to put them to work.

“So the collapse of the world must have you in a panic. More than most, I mean.”

Please continue explaining this body cultivation spell. You have my full attention.

>

No no, please. I am fascinated by this spell you have cleverly deconstructed.

>

I am.

>

Right.

>

That’s it? That’s all the spell does?

>

Huh. That does seem kind of useful for me, though. Would have been able to ignore that... whatever you call it... from the Anti-Theists, for one. It would give me more endurance in any high-intensity situation, and I bet it would make me a bastard to track down. Actually, it should accelerate cultivation too. Wouldn’t mind end-of-the-world armor, either. Yeah, this thing actually sounds pretty nifty to me, but I don’t want to waste a spell slot on it. Is it something that I can do with the Meditations?

>

I’m pretty curious to find out what the second spell does. I’d guess... hey, you hear that?>>

Truth started looking around. It wasn’t a bad neighborhood, but this was Jeon. Good and bad were rarely far apart. He quickly dipped down an alley, then another, then another. Six blocks later, the daylight seemed to be thinning. The buildings crowded each other, broken glass giving shine and sparkle to the streets. No homeless, though. No junkies nodding in a corner or gangsters drinking on the steps. There would be in the buildings above. Behind the thick steel bars and the heavy steel doors of the apartment buildings. But even in daylight, no one wanted to be in this alley.

No one wanted to walk into this old shop, even though the doors were off their hinges. The door frame was decorated. Twisted bone lengths, held together with sinew and scraps of hides. The shattered glass had been carefully swept away, and a welcoming carpet of teeth stretched from the sidewalk into the interior. But above all, through all, surrounding all, was the music.

Truth could hear it clearly now- the soaring, layered glories of it. The bass and the treble and the mids all fell together, at first randomly, then a sublime order would be revealed. And once that perfection had existed just long enough to be felt, it disintegrated again. A new swell of music rose, its own internal logic growing and evolving through the seeming chaos. And all of it in sincere worship.

That which was most holy could not be put into words, the music showed, because words were far too limited, far too trapped in the human perspective to capture the infinite. Better pure sound, pure emotion. Better to express our feelings with as few barriers as possible.

And like music, sculpture was far more real, far more a complete statement than a picture. This was an eye, a careful composite made of dozens of other eyeballs, separated into their base components with surgical care and preserved through unknown means, then recombined into a perfectly imperfect form. The iris shimmered, dominated by shades of brown and black but joyfully flecked with blues, greens, and grays. The sclera was porcelain white, threaded with red, and yellowed here and there by disease or hard living. And the pupil- vast, dilated. Was it terror? Arousal? For its makers, was there a difference? It was hard to put the words “Ghūl” and “erotic” together, but what could this be but a creation of love?

The Ghūl lined the walls, coated the floor, and even knelt on the ceiling. As though the Ghūl had transformed themselves into a continuation of their sacred artwork. They paid Truth no mind. All save one. It had been standing, waiting, looking at the door. Carefully out of the light. It smiled, revealing green-gray teeth under mostly rotted, withered lips. The being pressed its hands together, and bowed. It extended its arm towards the giant eye. Inviting a brother to come and worship.