Chapter 17 - Lust

The more I turned my gaze to God, the more He, with infinite patience, watched me, reflecting in me the light of His presence. But as I turned toward Dite, Lucifer himself, the very reflection of the fall and rebellion, seemed to stare back with the same intensity, as if, in his antithetical nature, he too sought to understand my soul. Each answer I found in my search seemed to be followed by an increasing number of questions, a whirlwind of uncertainties feeding on the fleeting certainties I believed I possessed. Perhaps, in the end, the true meaning of existence does not lie in the relentless pursuit of all answers, all knowledge, but rather in the ability to have something, something concrete, something that anchors us in the chaos. And I, lost in the search for everything, found myself devoid of anything solid. I had nothing left, for I was so caught up in seeking everything, in losing myself in the infinite, that nothing remained for me but existential loneliness. But, as I reflected on this, I asked myself: who, after all, cares about this? What really matters in loneliness? I no longer saw myself as moral or immoral, for what would morality be but an illusory construct in the face of the vastness of nothingness? Perhaps I had simply distanced myself from myself, detached even from my own feelings, as if they were nothing more than empty echoes in an endless abyss...

The fire continued to consume everything around, devouring not only the bodies but the very essence of that circle of Lust, transforming it into an even more chaotic and distorted hell. The flames spiraled upward, as if they wanted to touch the sky of perdition, but would never reach the light. And in that grotesque fire, something was being burned, something beyond flesh and oil: the very illusion of power that Belphegor and Asmodeus had built with their laws, with their arrogance. They were being consumed by their own excess, and, somehow, this seemed even more grotesque than any torture I could have imagined.

Belphegor howled, but it was a muffled sound, a desperate attempt to maintain his authority amidst the chaos surrounding him. He tried to control the fire with slow, lazy movements, as if it were something that could be tamed with will, but no. Hell does not obey, it consumes. There is no control in chaos. There is no order in a world of pure destruction. Each of Belphegor's movements only seemed to feed the hell he himself had helped create.

Asmodeus, on the other hand, was visibly dazed. The whip, which had once represented his dominion, was now simply swinging in his hands, lacking the strength it once had. He retreated from the flames, as if trying to find a way to escape the very hell. But there was no escape. There was no flight for them. And even as they struggled to stay on their feet, I realized that what I had done was not just a reaction, but a reflection of what everyone in Hell ignored: the power of humanity. We were not just beings of flesh and bone, but of will, and with that, the ability to destroy anything, even Hell itself.

I stood up slowly, my body still writhing in pain, but there was no more fear. Fear had been burned away with the flesh, the chains, the illusions. There was nothing left but an absolute coldness, a certainty that, in that moment, my survival was a reflection of something much deeper, perhaps even more immoral. Something that could not be questioned, but understood. I did not need scruples. I did not need limits. I knew Hell still awaited me, but in that brief second, I had won, and that victory was what I desired. No longer a fight against demons, but against the very idea of morality.

"I perceive nothing but two souls trapped in their own pride, turning into parasites of themselves, feeding off the illusion of power they cultivate," I whispered, my voice a shadow of the chaos. "There are no limits to what we can destroy, even if it costs us everything."

It was the pure truth. Humanity, in its rawest essence, is not afraid to go to the end, to consume everything around it, until nothing remains. Until not even humanity itself remains. And in that moment, I was the embodiment of that. I was not seeking redemption. I was not seeking justice. I was not seeking anything constrained by a moral code. What guided me was something much deeper, much more insane: the absence of any principle that could stop me.

The flames were no longer just fire; they were a representation of what the demons feared more than any torture or judgment: the simple and relentless certainty that, in the end, even they could be consumed by the very arrogance that sustained them. The flames licked the air, crawled up the walls of the circle of Lust, consuming everything, until the skin of the demons disintegrated, and their monstrous forms began to dissolve in the chaos.

Asmodeus and Belphegor were now in despair. Their attempts to control the fire and the flames surrounding them were futile. Their bodies were forced to writhe, and their fury only fed the destruction they had caused. I watched them with an empty gaze. There was no more pleasure, no satisfaction. The victory was simple, pure, inevitable. It was the consequence of their own failures.

They crawled, their bodies melting in the flames, their voices transformed into desperate screams, but at the same time, hopeless. Neither had the strength to fight against inevitability. All they had created, all their strength and power, was useless. They were being torn apart by the destruction they had ignored.

With a slow movement, I approached Asmodeus, who was now lying on the ground, his skin corroded by the flames. He looked at me, his eyes full of hatred, but also an admission of defeat. He could no longer fight.

"You... don't understand," he whispered, his voice weak. "We rule everything. Hell... cannot be destroyed. You will regret this."

I looked at him, and then, with an impassive coldness, I replied, "Nothing is eternal, Asmodeus. Not until you make the greatest of all failures: believing that destruction would never come for you."

He tried to say something more, but the flame that enveloped him silenced him, and, like fire consuming a piece of wood, he disappeared. There was no resistance. There was no struggle. Only the end.

I then turned to Belphegor, who was in an even more deplorable state, his twisted and torn form burning relentlessly. He no longer had the power to utter a word, his empty eyes fixed on me, and the shadow of his defeat hung in the air, thick and pungent.

And then, as a final act of irony, I spoke: "You were always lazy, Belphegor. You never knew when to act. Now, you become part of what was your creation. Hell does not forgive even those who rule over it."

He did not respond. There was nothing left to say. He was consumed, reduced to ashes that scattered in the flames that had already taken the circle. Nothing remained of his presence, neither his vanity nor his power. Only the fire. The fire that, now, represented the final destruction, not of a circle, but of everything they had been.

I stood there for a moment, in silence. Hell was no longer the same. It was no longer ruled by these two figures, but by something much deeper: the truth that everything built, no matter how strong, was destined to fall. And with that, the cycle closed. No longer their laws. No longer their beliefs. Only the relentless destruction that, in the end, consumes even the most powerful.

I took a step back, watching the flames consume the last trace of them. Hell was now an unrecognizable landscape, distorted by what they could not comprehend: the end.

The darkness of Hell was still there, but there was something different in the air, as if something were more genuine, more real.

It was then that she appeared.

The figure was like a ray of light in an abyss. Her presence was so pure it seemed to cut through the darkness with her essence. I could not describe her perfection justly, but it was as if she emanated a soft glow, something that contrasted with the dense shadows filling the place. Her eyes, a deep blue, were fixed on me, and her expression displayed serene calmness, as if she were in a state of complete understanding, without the weight of hopelessness that most other beings carried.

Lust, the sin that had been freed. Not a shadow, but a figure of pure presence, no longer contained by corruption, but representing the opposite: a sense of authenticity, almost ethereal. She approached with lightness, her steps making no sound, as if she floated rather than walked.

I said nothing at first. We stood in silence, but that silence was laden with an expectation more perceptible than any word. Then, she spoke, her voice soft, but firm, like flowing water shaping rock over time.

— You destroyed everything, didn't you? — she asked, without judgment, but with a deep understanding of what had happened. She knew, as if she had seen the whole of what was occurring, and somehow, her eyes reflected the weight of what seemed to be an infinity of realities at once.

I didn't know how to respond. I didn't want to justify anything. It was not the moment for that. What I had done did not need explanations. But I said, almost in a whisper:

— I destroyed because that's what we are. There is no redemption for those who refuse to see the truth. But don't be fooled. What I destroyed wasn't real, but what remains... that is.

Lust looked at me with a gaze deeper than anything I had ever experienced there, deeper than the very sins or the demons. She seemed to see me not only as a presence in that moment, but as if she saw my entire existence, as if she knew every step, every desire, every failure I had within me.

— You are not what they think you are — she said calmly, her voice sweet, but with a wisdom that seemed to encompass millennia of understanding. — You are not even what you think you are.

I remained silent, for she was right. I did not know what I was. Every step I took, every choice I made, seemed to only pull me further away from what I expected to be. Or was that exactly what I was seeking? I no longer knew. I knew nothing.

She knelt before me, and then, for the first time, looked at the other sins that lay around us. Each one of them, once seeming like such imposing beings, now reduced to what they were: empty shadows of power. They were unconscious, scattered on the ground, mere echoes of their own natures. I knew they were nothing without their corrupted existence, nothing without their connection to Hell itself.

Lust rose again, with a grace that seemed out of place in that place, and with a gentle gesture, she bent down and placed her hands beneath the fallen sins. Her fingers touched the shadows as if they were clouds, and, like a dance, the shadows began to gather, to condense, and rise, floating up to her back.

— They will come with me — she said, and her voice was tinged with tranquil understanding. — Not because they deserve it, but because I take them. They were left behind, but that does not make them irredeemable. They need to understand what it means to be taken by someone who still has something pure, something they cannot reach.

I watched, without words. I just crouched and held Naka in my lap. The figure of Lust was now carrying all the sins on her back like invisible burdens, but their bodies were shadows, and the contrast of her presence with theirs was evident, an absence of substance that could not compete with the fullness of her essence.

When she looked at me again, there was a lightness in her gaze, as if she knew that the path ahead was not just hers, but for all who might still follow. And then, with an almost distant serenity, she said:

— Now, your burden is another. And I... — she paused, as if considering the words, before continuing: — I am not what you thought I was. I am not the fantasy you believed existed. But I am part of what you need to understand.

With a graceful movement, she stepped away. Her presence vanished into the darkness like a flame extinguishing, but her light seemed to leave a trail of purification, as if she were taking the shadows, the rot of all Hell, to a place where they would finally get what they deserved.

I then looked at Naka, who was still in my lap, and knew that there was something beyond all of this. Something that wasn't limited to vengeance or redemption. Whatever I was, it was beyond the shadows surrounding me. And, for a brief moment, everything seemed to be in balance.