If the oracle was fake, and the game was used to placate the fake oracle by being used as a tool to bring people in, where did the oracle come from? What were the origins of the oracle? Why was there a need to make a fake oracle? And why was there a need to bring people in, aside from the fact that someone would be landed with the title of the "Chosen one" from the oracle?

Why did the person need an oracle to cling on for sanity?

Who was the person?

There were so many questions.

—

There were some things that perhaps Anton had forgotten.

The day of the exorcism.

The day he had snapped.

Oh, poor, poor Anton. He was so unaware of the other host of the body.

The day his mother tried to exorcize him, was the day another being was summoned.

.

.

.

"You devil..."

"This isn't from the bible." Anton smiled at his mother, "is this another stage of madness?"

He did not expect her to reply.

She did not.

Instead, she continued a series of chants. That irritated Anton; and all over again, the familiar rise of hate bloomed in him, and his beautiful, cerulean eyes darkened with unadulterated fury. His jaw was taut—yes, it was amusing, yes, his mother was going crazy, but oh, how embarrassing. This was no heaven for him, no throne for him to sit. Everything should have been handed to him on a silver platter—not this.

He stared at the flickering candles.

Verses six, seven, and eight show that the innocent lamb must be bled to death, and the bones were not to be broken—it had to be roasted whole.

A smile curled on his lips—penance. Anton would show his mother what true release of sin meant.

.

.

.

There was something distorted in his memory.

It was after Anton had skinned his mother, after he had slowly and methodically used a blade: a small blade that required great deals of patience to work through her body, bit by bit— he had taken in the sight of how seeping in great blooming stains, the blood looked grape-skin black. It was limp, vulnerable, and Anton realized that it was still more tender than the meat of the lamb.

There were reams of intestines within her, and his hands had been stained with blood when he had reached his ribs, carefully tearing that flesh from it. It was then he had innocently looked up and stared into a presence. He could feel, more than see, and instantly knew who it was.

"After years of my mother saying your name, you appeared."

It was the devil.

If there was God, there was Satan. If one believed in one, the other existed in their faith. It was how it worked.

"How messy it is." The devil had no name. It did not have horns, or a tail. It was simply a flickering presence. "What a child. Born twisted."

Anton stared at it.

"I've been too long without a body. I'm festering. Fading. And yet everyone has a conscience: the cruelest of the murderers can still reject my soul, still have that tiniest bit of guilt in them. But how strange? That the perfect vessel for my soul belongs to a young boy."

"Hmm." Anton was utterly disinterested.

"Half. I only want half. Just half of you to make the vessel."

"Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. Another verse states: Then Jesus was led by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil. God," Anton looked at the devil right through, a smile playing on his lips, "cannot be whole with the devil."

The presence before him laughed. He wasn't offended, no, or at least, he didn't appear to be. Anton relied heavily on one's expression to read them, and the devil was nothing but a shadowy blur. A soul in need of a vessel. Him.

"So you want to be God," the devil said, "but you cannot be one."

Anton paused.

"There's the fragility of humans that you still possess. No matter how much skin you shed, you will still be a human at heart. To be a God you must possess great powers, and that is something I can offer you."

Anton did not reply.

The knife clattered to the floor.

"I see how it is," The devil hummed. "Perhaps you are so wrapped up in your ideas of grandiose—and perhaps part of you still clings on to your humanity. You want to be God, but you need the powers of Satan. You need an illusion to cling on. I can give you that. I can erase your memories; offer you something; someone; to hold on. How does an oracle sound? Or some sacrifices for your power, by creating a tool to bring people in? A religion? You seem to be obsessed with that."

"I don't follow. And I hardly care." Anton's voice was cold. "Unless you crave for a piece of my mother's flesh, don't bother."

"Are you going to eat her? Your mother?"

"Not me."

"It's below you, huh?"

"There's nothing above God." Anton chuckled, "what a foolish question."

"No, no." The devil paused. "In fact, it's rather unlike me, is it? To ask for permission."

Anton stilled for the briefest second.

"No matter what your answer was, I would have done the same. You will surely be interesting when you grow up. The half-devil with God ideals. Merging with me will be heavy on your mind, and seeing how you are so obsessed with religion...how about a chosen one from the oracle to rely on, hm?"

"What are you even—"

.

.

.

There were some things Anton never learnt.

The devil was part of him. It had merged with him. The oracle was made up for Anton alone to hold on to the other human side he had. The game was made to lure people inside to fulfill the oracle. The religion that consisted of the people lured in from the game was for sacrifices—to fuel the dark magic.

In the end, everything that had happened was because of the devil.

Anton was the devil he hated.

.

.

.

No, the other half of him refused. He was God.

.

.

.

Anton woke up in shaky breaths.

He didn't remember anything. But he saw the corpse of his mother, decaying with all her flesh gouged out, and nearly vomited.

Then something popped up in front of him.

[ Welcome, administrator. Would you like to view <The Chosen One>? ]

The Chosen One. Anton didn't know what this blue screen hovering before him was, but it would help him.

His savior, Anton thought reverently, whoever this is, is my savior.

.

.

.

When Anton awoke from his sleep, sweat drenched his body.

He stared at the mirror: he didn't recognise the reflection any longer. No, no, no! He couldn't be a devil—that was vicious, violent, horrid.

No, no, no, no, no, no.

So how much did Y/n know?

If the oracle was fake, what exactly was Y/n?

No.

No.

Even if Y/n wasn't the chosen one...

Anton didn't care what he did.

He would make sure Y/n didn't escape. He would make sure Y/n stayed.

.

.

—

Being with Anton gave him extra XP points, Y/n realized, but being away from the priest allowed him to relax; there were no flowers, there were no drugs poisoning him...

Besides, Y/n hadn't seen Anton since that strange day. The day he had found out the truth about the oracle, the day he had—

Y/n hadn't seen Anton ever since the war broke out.

Not once. In fact, Y/n hadn't even stepped foot outside of the house. He and Lucas were confined in the house: they were warned long ago that if war broke out, they would be required to stay inside for their safety. It was one of the times that Y/n had abided by an instruction without complaint.

"Father," Lucas voiced nervously, "what's happening? All I can hear is screams..."

Y/n couldn't believe he was actually in the midst of a full blown war. One where more people died, where the outcome was blurry—and oh, there was a chance...there was a chance that Anton could die. Y/n would have been gleeful to think of that, but even if the game was made for the fake oracle, it was still his only ticket to freedom.

The oracle was fake, and the game was made for the fake oracle—but the oracle was still made with a purpose. A purpose that Y/n didn't know—yet. To preserve the creator's sanity, the game has revealed, he is split half and half and one half is clueless. The game was helping him. Was it a God, taking pity on him? Y/n didn't know anymore.

"..." Y/n didn't know what to reply. What could he say, really? That this was just a dream, or better fitted, a nightmare? That this was nothing? No. It was obvious. This was a massacre between the Church and the Imperial Family.

"I miss Father Anton too," Lucas mumbled, "is he safe, Father?"

Lucas had been imprinted by Anton, Y/n realized with horror. The poor boy wanted a family so desperately that in his head, he had conjured up an image of the perfect, perfect family: his father he adored, the priest—the benevolent, sweet priest who doted on both of them—and he liked Anton.

Lucas liked Anton.

"...I hope so," Y/n lied. For the sake of him escaping, he didn't want Anton to die, but surely, he could be punished right? If the Gods were watching, surely, they would make him suffer, right?

"I want to go outside and find him..." Lucas buried his head into Y/n's stomach, so his words were muffled, "I'm scared. I don't want any of you to get hurt."

"Oh, darling," Y/n said softly, "my sweet child. I won't get hurt. You won't either. And for Anton..."

I hope he gets hurt.

"...I'm sure he'll be fine," Y/n found the words leaving his mouth to be bitter. Anton was powerful—wait, was he?—Y/n had never actually seen his powers before. The game showed that Anton was of a high ranking, charismatic, intelligent, but had they ever talked about his skills in battle?

"I think I'll go to sleep. Maybe once I wake up, it'll be over." Lucas mumbled, "I don't like this."

"Alright, sweetheart," Y/n kissed the top of his head, "go get some rest. I'll check up on Anton, if you want."

He immediately beamed, his hug around Y/n becoming tighter. "Really? You will?"

Brief translation: Y/n was going to see how Anton fared in battle. He was still holding on to the theory that the church used dark magic and used the people killed as sacrifices to appeal to a much darker, demonic force. So if Anton...

"I will." Y/n smiled, "come on. Run along, now."

Satisfied, Lucas ran back to his room, and Y/n could hear the small flick of the switch as Lucas turned off the light. He heard the soft ruffle of blankets, before silence.

...Lucas was safe. Y/n was okay to go out.

He didn't need to arm himself with anything, truthfully. If Y/n died, he didn't really care any longer—

No, he did.

There was Lucas. There was Lucas. There was Lucas. There was Lucas. There was Lucas—

Y/n opened the door, settling his heart.

[ Congratulations! After spending time with Father Anton, you have leveled up to level nine! ]

One more level. Only one more level...

A cruel, mangling game played by the hands of fate. That was what war was. In the end, it all went down to simple matters like who your opponent was, how strong they were. The battlefield was a mess—a gruesome sight of fallen, often dismembered bodies—and Y/n noticed, with a sinking realization, that most of the bodies on the ground belonged to knights.

The Imperial Army was losing greatly.

There were spiels of fire, ravaging everything in sight, including humans.

Everything was almost identical to when Y/n had lost his sister.

From the earth-shattering screams: the pure agony inside that rattled voices and raspy breaths, from the blood that was gutted out like a stream of crimson, rushing down their bodies violently before they stained the ground, from the way they had the tears in their eyes.

None of them wanted this. Why would they want war? War was a cruel, heartless thing.

I need to see Anton, Y/n thought desperately, I need to confirm my theory. Y/n didn't know what Anton was; but what he knew was that the game, created because of the oracle, was just a tool to bring people in. People that died here. And because of the earlier information he had acquired, he also knew that dark magic was fueled by sacrifices. So essentially, perhaps the game was used to fuel the dark magic, and if Anton had that power, it meant the game was linked to him.

The system has told him clearly that the oracle was meant to ease someone's sanity. Someone that was half. And it would all tie up; if Anton was truly that someone who had indirectly caused the creation of the oracle,  then the game, that would mean he was the start of it all. Perhaps he wasn't even aware of it, but it would explain all of his contradictory behavior: why he clung so hard to religion, and yet his actions were so devil-like...

Mills had died, Peter had died, Nora had died, his sister had died. Nora had confirmed everyone had systems of their own, all different, which also meant that Anton had one. And if Anton was the one who created everything, whether it was intentional or not, he would have a different role..

Then the system—the whole system—

What was it for? Had the gods taken pity on him, in a way? To give him a chance to escape? It had helped lead him, in some way—like the time it told Y/n to visit Sister Helen. And if Anton was the devil, it meant God...it meant God was trying to help him, in some way. But that had backfired, and resulted in Anton knowing every single one of his actions.

Devil like! Of course! And assuming Anton was half and half...

I need to find him, was all Y/n thought. Arrows whizzed past his face and left scorching marks on it, but the pain was barely felt.

There! Y/n saw the familiar figure by the side, recognising that regal, tall stature.

Disappointment filled in him, along with a sense of bitter relief when he saw that the priest was still alive. He stumbled towards him, bit by bit, before he stilled.

There were columns of gray ashy smoke by the corner. Great billows of darkness. Fire that seemingly materialized out of nowhere, some sort of aura;menacing and dark, that made all the air in Y/n's lungs get punched out. It was a strange, strange sensation, but there was absolutely no doubt on what that source was.

The most potent dark magic. The most powerful, like it was the devil himself that was using it.

Anton was killing with inhuman strength: he was using those sacrifices as a fuel for dark magic!

"So all along...all along, since my foolish theory was actually true..." Y/n began softly in disbelief, "he had a system of his own? He was the creator? He fucking made an oracle to delude himself, and created a game to trap people for sacrifices? Is he even aware...? He knew everything I was doing from the start," Y/n's voice cracked, "everything, and the only reason why I was spared was because I was the supposed Chosen One."

It was all luck. All of it was luck—!

"Y/n," a sudden voice jolted Y/n out of his deep thoughts, making him swallow and stare into Anton's eyes, "I thought I told you to stay inside."

Fuck, fuck, fuck—!

Y/n had seen something he wasn't supposed to see. He had disobeyed Anton's instructions, and now he had to pay the price.

He felt it, rather than seeing it. Y/n smelt the stench of death even before the dagger had sunk in him.

Anton stabbed him.

Crimson jets spurted out rhythmic and sure, intentional and deadly. It was a beautiful bloodbath, a slow and telling ticking of the heart's time, bathed in rich red. The dagger stuck in his chest, quivering, like an arrow that has found its target.

Stabbed. He got stabbed. He got...

Anton looked just like the devil there. Angelic. Breathtaking, like always. But damned. Crimson stained his face, those cerulean eyes stared mercilessly at Y/n. It was a gruesome sight; and Y/n remembered there being so little sound. Gurgling, mostly, some harsh rasping for breath. Blood jetted from the wound in rhythmic arterial arcs; and each spurt came more slowly, each weaker than the one before, like an old clockwork toy slowing down, every surge another last tick of the works. Each time Y/n became closer to death. He could taste it on his tongue, bitter, welcoming. Was this his end? Had he failed, perhaps?

Something in Anton's eyes told Y/n he would not die. That by some twisted act of God's mercy, Y/n would live.

"Why?" Y/n croaked out, "you...why...?"

"Now the earth was corrupt in God's sight and was full of violence. God saw how corrupt the earth had become, for all the people on earth had corrupted their ways. So God said to Noah, 'I am going to put an end to all people, for the earth is filled with violence because of them. I am surely going to destroy both them and the earth'. That is why the bible says, Y/n. And this gives me a chance to show the Imperial Army. That I will get rid of them; the earth. I will obliterate everything...." He bent down, smiling sweetly. "But you, my dear, will survive."

Crazy, Y/n thought weakly, he's crazy.

Crimson melted on the floor.

Behind Y/n, the birds sang, and a murder of crows flew away.

.

.

—

Painful. It was so horribly painful, that Y/n felt like he was dying a slow, slow death.

Anton. Fucking Anton had stabbed him. And now Y/n couldn't move; and there were bandages wrapped around his abdomen. The only thing that gave him the slightest bit of hope was the fact that he only needed one more level to advance. Only one more level...

One more level. Nora had already told Y/n that Anton was looking for something else with him: a fake declaration of love would do it.

It was with dread that when Y/n sat up, the door opened and he met the eyes of the priest.

"I hope you understand, Y/n. I did what had to be done."

One more level. One more level. One more level. One more level. Y/n would gain 1000 XP from clearing the overall quest: by beating the game. Which meant just one little push would be able to make him return home. Oh, home. What sweet, sweet words. It never sounded so beautiful to him. And with that, a portal would open, Y/n would then be able to escape with Lucas. Everything—

"You stabbed me," were the words that slipped out of his mind instead. Dull, nonchalant, unforgiving.

"You were part of the oracle. My savior, Y/n."

"You're the devil! You made up a whole religion, used sacrifices to fuel whatever dark magic you had...you knew every movement I made because you had a system. Unconsciously, you believed that this world was reality."

"Perhaps some part of me is twisted, yes. But I wouldn't fret about it. You know why, Y/n? Because this is how it has always been. I have always been twisted. From the time my mother exorcized me. From the time the devil merged with me...but see, I have my principles. And I know what a sin is. I am a priest, remember?"

Anton seemed hollow, in a way. The way he spoke those words: it was empty: disbelieving, almost like he himself had learnt that information. So Y/n had also been right about that aspect: Anton had been unaware of his actions. And now he was the most vulnerable he had ever been: of course, the priest was still as strong as ever, as cold-hearted as ever, but Y/n had to take advantage of the priest's desperation.

"...Yes." Y/n fixed a smile on his face, "I...I understand."

Anton stilled.

"In fact, wasn't I foolish to have overlooked it this whole time? You were merely saving us," Y/n whispered, "that's all you wanted to do. And I repaid your kindness with—"

The words flew out of his mouth. There was music to Anton's ears. Perhaps his realization—perhaps whatever dream he had that told him about the past Y/n was unclear or had rattled him so deeply he was willing to shed all layers of suspicion and doubt to believe. To believe whatever Y/n was telling him.

He wanted Y/n to say those words he casted all of the doubts he always had to one side, and believed.

At that very moment, Anton had faith in Y/n.

A visceral, twisted faith.

And Y/n used everything to his advantage.

Everything.

"I love you," Y/n said breathlessly, seeing the bar by the side slowly rising, and rising, and rising....

Almost.

Almost.

Almost!

"You...love me," Anton repeated, and for a moment, Y/n feared that sudden false confession had turned against him, and had broken Anton out of whatever state he was in, but the priest instead was silent.

The stab wound throbbed. Y/n winced—it was painful. Extremely torturing.

Waiting for an answer was horrible—

"You're lying," Anton smiled bitterly, "you always are."

Y/n's heart dropped for a second. He just needed a bit more XP to get out of this game—just a bit more. Why the fuck was this happening to him? He never, ever asked for any of these—quite the opposite of this. It disgusted him that he would have to grovel before Anton; it disgusted him that he would have to say such horrible lies to save himself. Anton probably knew that Y/n could escape the game, but he didn't know just how Y/n would do it.

It was a move out of desperation.

Y/n pressed his lips onto the priest's. He kissed him; and he could feel the immediate shame and horror rising up within him. But this was a small price to pay if it meant that he would be able to live. To live and to see Lucas grow up; safe and sound. Safe from here. Safe from the war; safe from Anton.

Essentially, this was a betrayal. To himself, to...

Y/n stared at the XP bar by the side of his screen.

It didn't move.

Please,Y/n thought maddeningly, please, please, please—

This couldn't be happening. None of these—none of these—

[ Congratulations! You have reached level ten by gaining the administrator's full trust. ]

[ You are now eligible to escape. ]

.

.

—

"You betrayed me, Y/n. That is a sin...."

No. No.

He had to escape the game...

Y/n opened his eyes, memories flooding in his head. Frantically, he looked around, swallowing. Had he really? Had he really? It seemed impossible that he would have been able to escape, but perhaps—perhaps...

Home.

Home.

And Lucas—!

The child was stirring next to him, blinking his eyes.

Y/n stared at the surroundings he was in — the clock was right by the side, and in a deliberate, slow motion, he picked it up.

XX XXXX XXXX.

He laughed hysterically, falling into the ground.

All that hell...all that madness...and the day was exactly the same as hell had begun. The day was exactly the same as the day he had left. These people were here on earth; unassuming, able to lead their own lives.

What about Y/n? Would he ever be able to be the same again? How the fuck was he supposed to pretend like everything was fine when it was not? Was this what the universe was expecting of him, to brush it all under the rug and continue living when in fact, it felt like his life had ended years ago, when he had first seen those blue eyes? Was he supposed to be a human here, when his hands had killed people, when clearly, he no longer had a purpose to continue?

No. He did have one.

Lucas. Lucas. Lucas. The child was safe. It would be alright. They would somehow start a new life, have a new beginning— Y/n would give the life that Lucas deserved. Bit by bit; they would somehow build it up piece by piece...

Y/n hugged Lucas, inhaling his sweet scent as he swallowed down sobs.

He did it.

He...did it.

Oh, there were so many. Mills, Freda, Peter, Nora, Ally—so many.  Even the man he had murdered. Murdered.

"I'm sorry," He said quietly, shaking, "I'm so sorry."

He could feel hands tighten on his clothes, and Y/n simply buried his head into Lucas's hair.

Y/n had escaped.

Lucas had escaped.

They had escaped.

.

.

.

—

Escaped. Y/n was going to start anew. Y/n would be able to properly mourn his sister...

"Hey! Why are you making such a ruckus!" A familiar voice called him, "what games are you even playing?"

Y/n felt the whole word pause around him. Surely he had heard wrongly, right? The one who had called him sounded like Ally. Like his sister, who had died. Or perhaps this was another dream. Perhaps this was a sickening daydream where he would be torn away from: maybe this was the fever from the stab wound speaking. Y/n was stuck, confined, caught, if not in perpetuity—not yet —he could nonetheless feel the net pressing, the flesh constricting under its pressure.

"...Who..?" Y/n's voice was dry. "Who are you?"

"Stop kidding around," her voice was disbelieving and mocking, "I'm your sister. Really! You don't need to look all pale and shocked...is there a kid next to you?"

Y/n ignored what his sister was saying, and instead rushed to the website where he had seen Nora post on. There were no longer any posts about Spiraling into the Abyss—it seemed that when Y/n escaped, it had been wiped from existence—but...

[ posted 4 days ago · Nora ]

So she was alive too. Everyone was alive.

The television glowered black and blank; lamps bowed their heads in judgment; pillows mocked him. If he had just died, then wouldn't he have survived? Then wouldn't he have just escaped? Nora, Ally, they...they were all alive.

Dying had made them return; dying had allowed them to forget, and to live.

"What's wrong?" Lucas tugged on Y/n, "isn't that Sara? Who.."

All those times he had been tortured, he had been suffering, all those for naught. All that for nothing. The naked, aching truth was that now that Y/n was home—he held the vestiges of his love for his child close for comfort. Y/n would have suffered if he did not. Y/n held on these remains of love, praying, hoping, that this would allow him to survive.

For even after he had returned, the Gods who had helped him to escape would always continue to hurt him so.

It was utterly selfish for him to feel more rage for himself than happiness upon seeing his sister, Y/n knew, but why did the universe have to dictate and spin such a horrid tale for him? Was this really what he was reduced to?

"Ally," Y/n made a strangled sound, "you are..."

He did not—he could not—bear to look at her.

"Where are we going, Father?"

The streets were almost empty, oddly silent but for the wind and the sibilant sound of wheels. Y/n and Lucas walked into the building; Y/n was grasping at the straws, trying his best to find some sort of semblance of life again. It had been about three months since he had returned, and yet it seemed Lucas still had not gotten over the seeming loss of Anton.

Constantly, always. That child would look at him innocently and inquire about the priest.

He wanted to show Lucas the true, true world beyond the game. The earth, as Y/n had learned, was far from perfect. But it would never be as hellish as what they had both survived. If there were fires, there would be people who paid for their crime.

Light bounced off cold surfaces, pinged off iridescent glass, glowed ghost-like on reflective paint, and stopped dead on matte tarmac. Y/n felt the cold air kiss his cheeks as he walked inside, and squeezed Lucas's hand.

"I was thinking of eating something nice," Y/n said gently, "far nicer than what we had before."

Lucas brightened up, his cheeks glowing a rosy red.

"Really?"

"Yes."

Since time had not even passed, it allowed Y/n to search for a job. That had been a tedious process; half the time, Y/n would find himself drifting, would find himself slowly losing himself. To stay stuck and focused on one matter was now growing hard for him—his mind wandered, it moved slowly from places to places. The church, the war, Anton. The priest still haunted him and made appearances in his nightmares.

There was a flurry of motion, before countless shrieks. Y/n furrowed his eyebrows.

Just what was happening?

"Fire! Fire! Run!"

The shout was breathy, tortured, and painful. Y/n knew the tone very well. It was the same tone Ally had when she had been burnt.

Burnt. Fire.

Despite the scorching words, cold ice flooded his veins. He immediately looked around: trying desperately to search for the source before him—

Right before him, the building imploded into bright, bright flames.

Debris fell. There were sickening thuds and people before him fell, like one after another. There was blood.

"No, no, no," Y/n shook his head frantically at the fire before him, "no more fires—no more fires—" he choked out, "not after I escaped, not after I..."

What a horrible sight. Everywhere around him, people screamed and ran from shelter—Y/n knew that it was likely that this was simply some—some twisted person pulling this off—he knew it wasn't related, but still; that fire...that visceral, fucking fire...

"What are you doing?" An officer shoved him to the side, urging him to move, "young man, are you okay? Are you—"

"Don't touch me!" Y/n immediately screamed, "don't touch me. Don't touch me. Don't you fucking touch me!"

The officer recoiled.

"We have a situation on the fifth floor. There's a person here, he's...yes. Send backup—"

"Police won't help!" Y/n said hysterically, "you know why? This is the work of the devil. This is his doing. Oh, even after I escape, why must he haunt me so? Why did he have to tear every bit of my humanity from me? Did he do this on purpose?" Y/n buried his head in his hands desperately, "that he had dug out whatever semblance of normalcy I had so that even if I left, I would always just be his puppet? He has made me into a shell without him. I'm a fucking puppet. I need him. I need him, I need him to survive. I can't even survive on my own, I can't even—"

"We need you to calm down. The arsonist has been detained. You have nothing to worry about, sir. Is there a family member we can dial?"

Family members?

There was Ally, Y/n thought, beginning to calm down once more, there was Ally, who had died in the game and had returned to home like nothing had happened, which meant that if he had died from the stabbing, or from the suicide he was always intending to commit, he would also have returned home without the priest's imprint. Without him without him without him—

"The...the arsonist has been detained?" Y/n asked breathlessly, "he's been cleansed—arrested?"

"Yes, young man." One of the officers exhaled, "yes, he had been arrested. He's currently on the way to where he'll stay for a long time."

Y/n didn't blink, and instead froze. So it hadn't been him. Yes. It wasn't him. He wasn't here with him, making him suffer, stabbing him, killing him, purifying him—

"Father!" Lucas rushed towards him, hugging him tightly. "Are you okay?"

Lucas. Right. Him. The child he had basically sacrificed his own life to protect, to save. Y/n relaxed, giving a wobbly smile.

"I'm okay. How are you, darling?" Y/n returned the hug, but stiffened. "What's that in your pocket?"

"Oh," Lucas said chirpily, "it's..."

Y/n glanced down at it before he immediately recoiled.

That was a...

"Lucas," Y/n's voice was deathly hollow as he glanced at the officers that were retreating, "why do you have a lighter with you?"

"Oh, that?" Lucas said flippantly, "it's too weak, so I didn't use it."

"What?"

"Father Anton taught me," he beamed, "and besides, he doesn't need a lighter to create fires."

"...What are you even talking about?" Y/n plastered a smile on his face, feeling his heartbeat race until he felt it might have just jumped out of his chest—"whatever do you mean, Lucas? Father Anton isn't here. We escaped. I promised you we would, and we did."

"He's here. He was the one that cleansed all those people. I want to be just like him."

"Yes, young man." One of the officers exhaled, "yes, he had been arrested. He's currently on the way to where he'll stay for a long time."

Y/n's heart dropped. Suddenly, it was like he had been stabbed again—all that blood draining from his body, that one sinking deep into his flesh, drilling into his bones and gutting his insides. They caught the wrong person.

"You don't mean that," Y/n smiled. "You don't fucking mean that."

"He's the one who managed to cleanse this place." Lucas said innocently, "Father, what are you talking about?"

Y/n looked at the direction Lucas was facing.

The hysterical smile slowly melted off his face.

Those blue eyes. That damned blue eyes.

Anton.

He was supposed to be gone.

"I searched the parts of my body where guilt was supposed to live and I found nothing, not a whisper, not a peep, not a flicker, not a flutter, not the faintest susurration of anything even remotely like remorse. Guilt would have forced me to feel sorry; guilt is a human emotion, no? See, I felt nothing—no guilt, just emptiness. That is the thing that will distinguish me from a mere human. I was naive when I was child. God and the devil can coexist together."

"I suppose this counts as resurrection, does it not? Like the scripture Thessalonians 4:16 (NIV) said—For the Lord himself will come down from heaven, with a loud command, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet call of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first." Anton tilted his head, "have I not risen? Have I not managed to cleanse this place? It's been so long, my dear, since I have seen your face. Gospel of John 11:25 (NIV) said that God was the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die. You still believed in my existence. Now that was your fatal flaw. Your hubris."

"In fact," Anton continued, "do you know? Judas' betrayal of Jesus is detailed in the New Testament, particularly in the Gospels. In Matthew 26:47-50 (NIV), it describes the moment of betrayal. While he was still speaking, Judas, one of the Twelve, arrived. With him was a large crowd armed with swords and clubs, sent from the chief priests and the elders of the people. Now the betrayer had arranged a signal with them: 'The one I kiss is the man; arrest him.' You were the one who kissed me, the one who betrayed me. Yet you still believed me," Anton walked over to Y/n, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

No, no, no, no.

"And now Lucas is maturing. He is learning."

Not his child.

Not his child.

"What have I done wrong?" Y/n whispered, "just what did I do wrong?"

What had he done wrong in his life to be punished like this?

The world would soon end. This world would soon end, for Anton dwelled amongst them.

For the devil resided amongst them.

"You do know..." Anton whispered in his ear, "running away is a sin too, right?"

.

.

But Christ has indeed been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep. For since death came through a man, the resurrection of the dead comes also through a man. For as in Adam all die, so in Christ all will be made alive.

FIN.

.

.

John 11:25-26 (NIV) "I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die; and whoever lives by believing in me will never die. Do you believe this?'"

thank you so much for the continued support on this story. i figured having a super long chapter instead of few short-ish chapters would be fine. for context and to summarize basically the whole story: anton as a kid was split into two, and one was made into a vessel to host the devil. to protect the other side of him, the devil created an oracle for his sanity & for that oracle, the game was created. [to pull people into the world for sacrifices that would fuel dark magic, and also because one random person would be chosen as the lucky one.]

im super happy to complete a story and this is pretty much a open ending kinda (?) i don't exactly see this as a case where the yandere wins as rn anton no longer had any influence or servants etc etc and plus, another note i wanted to specially include was that lucas is offically messed up. he didn't die, but i think seeing how he subtly morphs into a carbon like copy of anton would be even more tragic. yes, y/n is a good father, but he's also extremely warped because of everything he has been through, and coupling that with the environment lucas has grown up in, with anton's influence, i saw it as inevitable.

anyways, i love you all :') it's been a wild wild journey and i am super grateful for everything that you all have done for me. loved reading all your comments and it's certainly been a joy ride.

how did you find this story?