Chapter 20 - The Circle of Envy

The descent was an endless fall, a dive into the belly of something alive, pulsating, and decaying. The space around me wasn't empty – it was a vast throat closing in on me, as if the very cosmos were swallowing me whole. Every moment seemed to tear pieces from me, a meticulous dissection of what I believed to be my essence. My body burned, my mind shattered, yet I kept falling, diving deeper into the absolute nightmare.

The air turned into a dense poison, burning my throat like acid. But breathing was irrelevant. I didn't need air; I needed nothing. The pain was a distant memory, a pale echo compared to the emptiness that expanded inside me. Every second was a violent stripping of layers from what I thought was human. In the end, only the void remained.

When my feet touched the ground of the Circle of Envy, reality struck me like a rusted blade, cutting deep and leaving infections in everything it touched. The ground was not ground – it was flesh. Living, pulsing flesh stretched across an expanse that moved like an agonizing creature. Below me, tissues pulsed, contracting in rhythmic spasms, as if the earth had a heart beating slowly, resisting death.

Thick veins coiled beneath the surface, swollen with black liquid exuding a suffocating stench of decay. With every step, the flesh groaned under my feet, giving way as if it wanted to swallow me. A viscous, hot liquid trickled through the cracks in the ground, staining everything with a sickly red hue. Every sound was a muffled scream, a desperate lament of something that didn't want to exist but was forced to continue.

"Envy is the poison that makes people look at the light of others while snuffing out their own. They waste energy hating others' success, comparing achievements, envying smiles, as if someone else's happiness was a theft of their own. But deep down, they know: envy is not about what others have — it's about what they lack the courage to seek. While they consume themselves with bitterness, they stop building, growing, shining. They become furious shadows, trapped in a cycle of self-sabotage where every compliment to others is a stab to their own soul. The saddest part? They could have everything they envy, if they stopped wasting time hating and started spending time fighting. But they prefer the comfort of resentment over the courage to transform. And so, they wither — unable to see that the only thing preventing them from being great is the very poison they call 'injustice.' Have you ever seen someone so obsessed with the life of others that they forgot to live their own? They criticize, murmur, belittle — not for merit, but for fear. Fear of admitting that if they invested half the energy they waste hating, they could be better than those they despise. Envy makes them small, petty, devoid of greatness. And the worst part is that they know. They know they are self-destructing, that every word of disdain is a step away from their own happiness. But they continue, because it's easier to blame the world than to face the mirror and ask: 'Why haven't I made it yet?' Until one day, they look back and see only a trail of bitterness — and nothing more. Is it worth trading your own greatness for the misery of envying the greatness of others?"

And then, on the horizon, the Eye of Envy stared back at me.

The Eye

Gigantic, omniscient, an abomination that defied any concept of form. It didn't just observe – it devoured, it desired. Its edges pulsed in a sickly rhythm, as if it were alive, and from its center, thick, greasy tears of blood dripped to the ground with a heavy sound, feeding the pulsating veins of the earth. The air around it shimmered, as if reality itself were being torn apart by its presence.

Around the Eye, shadows crawled like parasites. Deformed creatures, born from distilled envy, their forms were a reflection of their desires. Tentacles, twisted limbs, and empty eyes seeking the impossible – to be something they could never attain. With every attempt at change, their forms broke, regressing in grotesque spasms, and they started again, doomed to forever desire.

Above, the sky was a red abyss, cracked like an exposed wound. Bodyless screams echoed within it, a cacophony of laments mixing with the pulsing veins of the ground. The air was saturated with an iron-like, almost sweet, scent of aged blood. This was not a place to live. This was a place to rot alive, slowly digested by the very concept of envy.

The Leviathan

And then it appeared.

The ground opened like a hungry mouth, expelling the immense figure of the Leviathan. It didn't walk – it crawled, like a mutilated serpent, its presence a wound bleeding into the fabric of hell. Its skin was a mosaic of broken scales, from which foul fluids leaked, bubbling upon contact with the flesh of the ground.

Its eyes, blind, were covered by a milky membrane, yet they still saw more than any mortal could bear. Its mouth, a cavern of irregular, decayed teeth, dripped a thick venom that fell in slow drops, corroding the ground. Every movement of its body emitted a wet, disgusting sound, like flesh being torn from bone.

It wielded a trident made of human bones, its teeth adorned with fragments of crushed skulls. Every detail of the Leviathan was a proclamation of its existence – not as a living being, but as the personification of hatred and destruction.

"One human," it roared, its voice so deep that the earth around me contracted in spasms. The Eye blinked, almost in reverence. "A worm who dares invade my domain."

I stared at it. There was no fear in me. Fear was something I had buried along with my humanity.

"I am not a worm," I replied, my voice like ice breaking under pressure. "I am a mirror. And what you will see in me, Leviathan, is the truth you try to hide even from yourself."

Each step I took was accompanied by the crushing sound of shadows turning to liquid flesh under the weight of the Leviathan. Its movements created cracks in the flesh of the earth, where blood and pus bubbled like erupting lava. The air was thick with the stench of decay and bile, and with every breath, I felt the revulsion, but I didn't falter.

The Eye, pulsing frantically, seemed on the verge of exploding. Each blink sent jets of thick blood splattering the fleshy walls surrounding us. It knew. The Leviathan knew. And I knew. This battle was the end, or the beginning of something much worse.

"Do you understand what it means to be a disposable tool?" I asked, turning to the monstrosity behind me. My tone was a mix of defiance and disdain. "Everything you represent is a rotten, meaningless cycle, fueled by misery itself."

The Leviathan roared with a sound that seemed to blend rage and fear. It raised its trident and attacked. The weapon cut through the air with enough force to shatter mountains, but I had already moved. The blow struck the flesh of the earth, rupturing thick veins that exploded in a grotesque mix of blood, bile, and liquid fat. The ground shook as if alive, and the shadows around began to deform, absorbing the fluids like frantic parasites.

I didn't retreat. I moved like a predator, slinking between the shadows as it tried to locate my position. Its confusion was evident, but it was irrelevant. Every strike it made did nothing but destroy its own territory.

"You are pathetic," I murmured, my voice thick with contempt. "Just a guardian of something that will never be yours."

Before it could react, I lunged, my hands grabbing one of the veins pulsing around the Eye. With a brutal yank, I tore the pulsing flesh, hurling it at the Leviathan. The piece opened mid-air, spilling boiling blood that burned its scales like acid. It screamed, an animalistic sound that made the walls tremble.

The monstrosity tried to strike me again with the trident, but this time, I was already on it. My hand reached one of its scaly legs, and with a precise movement, I shoved my fingers between its joints. With inhuman strength, I ripped one of its claws off, exposing broken bones and shredded flesh. Blood poured in black cascades, its consistency sticking to me like oil.

It recoiled, but I didn't stop. My hand plunged into its side, ripping scales and flesh in grotesque handfuls. I could feel the viscous, warm texture of its organs beneath my hand, but I didn't hesitate. I tore at whatever I found, hurling pieces of its essence to the ground as it screamed in agony.

Behind me, the Eye pulsed violently, its edges beginning to tear under pressure. It was imploding, unable to contain the chaos. The shadows screamed, their forms collapsing into shapeless masses of flesh and bone as they were sucked into the core.

"What are you now?" I shouted, my voice echoing through the circle. "Nothing but flesh and flaws!"

With one final movement, I grabbed the Leviathan's lower jaw. It tried to shake me off, but I had already driven my feet into the pulsating ground. I screamed as I pulled, ripping its jaw off with a crack that reverberated like thunder. Blood gushed like a waterfall, covering my face and clothes as it collapsed, unable to rise.

The Dismemberment of the Eye

The Leviathan was finished, its limbs trembling in spasms as its body slowly came to a halt. But I still had something to destroy.

The Eye, pulsating frantically, seemed to beg for mercy. But there was no room for mercy. I walked toward it, ignoring the screams of the shadows and the nauseating sounds of blood and fluids dripping around me.

With both hands, I grabbed the edges of the Eye, feeling its viscous, pulsing texture squirming under my fingers. It resisted, but I tore it apart. Layers of flesh and membranes broke, releasing a suffocating stench of decay and ammonia. Blood poured in torrents, covering the ground in a scarlet pool.

Inside the Eye, I saw something pulsing – a grotesque core of energy glowing with a sickly light. I didn't hesitate. I shoved my hand into it, feeling the unbearable heat and the slippery texture as I crushed the core between my fingers.

The scream that came from the Eye was neither human nor animal. It was something primordial, a sound that seemed to tear apart the very existence of the place. The ground trembled, the walls began to crumble, and the sky exploded into green flames as the circle shattered.

When it was all over, I was alone in the silence. The Leviathan lay dead, its body a carcass of mutilated flesh. The Eye was nothing but a pool of fluids and waste. And me? I was covered in blood, the remains of this hell sticking to me like a second skin.

The silence was suffocating. The ground, covered with torn flesh and coagulated blood, seemed to murmur in its last spasms of life. The air was thick with the stench of decay and bile, a physical reminder of the destruction I had caused. Every step I took made the dried blood crack under my boots, a sound that almost seemed ritualistic.

The angel floated above the grotesque scene, untouched. Its wings, vast and brilliant, were not stained by the blood that covered everything around us. It seemed like a symbol of something pure, but there was a coldness in its presence. Its eyes, deep and empty, showed no compassion or judgment. It was indifferent. Worse, it was complacent.

"Ready for the next circle?" it asked, its serene voice cutting through the silence like a sharp blade.

I laughed, but it was a dry, harsh sound, lifeless. My face, still smeared with the black blood of the Leviathan, twisted into a smile that didn't reach my eyes. "Ready? Does that word mean anything to you? Or is it just another empty formality in this pathetic game of God?"

The angel didn't respond immediately. It just watched me, its head tilted slightly to the side, as if examining an insect about to be crushed. "You speak as though you understand what's happening here, human. But all I see is another rebel, shouting against an emptiness it created itself."

I took a step forward, my gaze fixed on its. "And you, angel? What do you see when you look at yourself? A divine servant? A messenger of a God who keeps you on a leash? You're no better than the Leviathan. It followed the Eye; you follow orders you've never questioned."

Its wings moved slightly, sending a cold breeze that seemed to cut into my skin. "I follow the purpose of the Creator," it said, its voice still calm, but now with a weight that seemed to crush the air around us. "While you… you follow nothing. You are not amoral. You are empty. You destroy because you cannot create."

I laughed again, this time louder, more cruel. "You think that's it? That I follow nothing? You're wrong. I follow chaos. Destruction. The truth that all of this—God, you, the circles, the souls—means nothing. It's all a rotting cycle that needs to be undone."

The angel remained silent for a moment, its gaze never leaving mine. "You believe you are defying God, but what you do is part of His will. Every act of violence, every piece of flesh you tear, every drop of blood you spill… it's all been calculated. You are as much a part of the cycle as I am."

I stepped even closer, until I could see the fine details of its wings, the light radiating from them. "Cycle? If that's what you believe, then maybe I'm here to break it. Maybe I'm the error that even God didn't foresee. You follow the Creator like a dog follows its master, but I… I follow no one."

Its wings spread wide, so vast they seemed to swallow the light around us. "And what are you, then? A god? A demon? You destroyed the Leviathan, but that doesn't make you better. In the end, you are just another monster, trying to justify your existence with chaos."

I shrugged, the smile returning to my lips. "Maybe I'm a monster. But at least I'm free. You, on the other hand… you're just another puppet in the celestial theater. There's nothing in you but blind obedience."

The angel leaned slightly toward me, its voice now as cold as the blade of a guillotine. "And you think your freedom means something? Your amorality is not freedom. It's self-destruction disguised. You don't free yourself from the cycle. You only sink deeper into it."

I laughed again, lower this time, and began to walk toward the void in front of us. "Maybe. But at least I choose to sink. You, angel… you just float. Untouched, irrelevant, insignificant."

It followed me, its wings shining against the growing darkness. "Then let's go, human. Let's see where your freedom takes you. But know this: there is no emptiness so deep that God cannot fill."

I didn't look at it, my smile now completely gone. "And there's no divine light that the emptiness cannot erase."

"The pride," it said, its voice as calm as the void of space. "The final circle. The cradle of the fall, the sin that made Lucifer what he is."

I laughed, a dry sound, humorless. "The cradle of the fall, or the apex of humanity? Wasn't it pride that brought progress? The arrogance to believe one can touch the unattainable, defy the inevitable?"

"You confuse pride with creation," the angel replied, with the patience of someone who has heard this line of reasoning countless times. "Creation is divine. Pride is its corruption. A desire to exalt oneself above all. Above God."

I narrowed my eyes. "And what is God, if not the pinnacle of pride itself? Creating something in His image, to worship Him unconditionally? That's not love. That's narcissism in its purest form."

The angel didn't move, but something in its presence seemed to tremble. "Be careful with your words. Here, they have weight. In the circle of pride, the word is both sword and poison."

"Sword and poison," I repeated, savoring the words. "And your word? What is it? An echo of orders, a repetition without thought. You are just a tool, aren't you? An extension of another's will. I, at least, have my amorality. My freedom. I serve no one."

"You serve the void," the angel said, its voice as sharp as the trident I had wielded moments before. "You are not free. You are trapped in your destruction, in your lack of purpose. It's a slavery deeper than any faith could impose."

"If I'm trapped, then I'm an open cage," I retorted, taking a step forward. "And you, with all your light and certainty, are nothing but a golden cage. You follow God blindly, even when He abandons. Even when He is responsible for all this rot. Tell me, angel, have you ever doubted?"

It hesitated. It was only for a moment, but I saw it. And in that moment, the last trace of humanity within me almost smiled.

"Pride will be your ruin," it finally said, as though trying to regain control. "It is the final circle, the greatest. Here, you will see Lucifer, the reflection of what you are becoming."

"See Lucifer?" I asked, and this time, my smile came, cold as steel. "Maybe he should see me. Maybe he'll find something worse than himself."

The angel didn't respond. Instead, it gestured to the portal ahead. A golden door, imposing, with words carved in a language I didn't recognize but understood: "Here lies the king of the proud, imprisoned for eternity."

"Enter," said the angel, its voice almost a whisper. "But know this is the last place where even you may hesitate. Pride forgives no one. And Lucifer forgets nothing."

I passed through it, without hesitation, and touched the door.

"If pride is the final sin, then I am its consequence," I murmured to myself. "Let's see who truly deserves to fall."

And I pushed the door open.