Chapter 57: Birth of Corruption.

Not only were the murals stunning, they were also rich with a riveting, artistic soul that resonated in the depths of his very being.

The shapes and colors were visually stunning, unlike anything he had ever seen before.

But they were also strange and mysterious, containing a form of energy that could not be pinned down.

Almost like the images themselves were moving…

He had no idea how long they had been there, but the images they painted in his heart were as fresh as could be.

The flicker of the blazing bonfire made the walls come alive as Nero’s shadow was cast upon it.

The shapes moved— the gold, crimson and shadows.

Nero felt himself falling into the moving images.

His mind spun rapidly as his very soul was forced to bear witness…

***

A world of soft, green, rich, verdant lushness.

Curling roots…

In the distance, the outline of a deer mid-collapse.

A hunter stood there with a blade in his grip and his bow slung across his shoulder.

His arrow had pierced the side of the golden deer.

He watched the golden beast fall at the foot of a massive tree.

The clouds greyed and the world shed a tear.

The paint shimmered and swirled with the flickering shadows. The crisp pop of the burning vines behind Nero was not enough to snap him out of his reverie.

Beneath the dying mother deer, the roots of the tree coiled and pierced her flesh. From them poured streams of red and gold, winding up through her body— it was sorcery, or perhaps the essence of life itself.

Nero’s gaze swam…

The scenery shifted to show the golden deer standing again, her calf beside her, both bathed in the same radiant glow.

A miracle.

A miracle had been born.

The hunter knelt before the tree now, his arms raised. The tree loomed huge, its crown brushing the roof of the clouds.

The golden calf ran off into the woods, while its mother remained behind.

The hunter’s knife pierced the heart of the doe.

With the fresh blood dripping from her heart, he engraved onto the tree, the name of the god he had discovered— Sariel, the god of Life and Reincarnation.

The blood of the golden doe pooled around the godtree Sariel to created the river of blood that flows for eternity.

Nero felt his heart beating frantically.

Sweat pooled on his face as he gripped his chest hard.

Even then, he could not tear his gaze away.

Further down the wall, the story shifted again.

The hunter was no longer alone. A village had formed, tiny huts gathered beneath the tree’s vast canopy.

The people thrived, their fields bursting with fruit, their hands raised toward the roots that spread like veins across the mural.

The colors here had become bright— green, yellow, and deep earthen red.

Then the tone darkened…

The next section was crowded with figures bent low before the tree, offering something small and gleaming— a calf, painted gold.

Its body was bound in white, its eyes hollowed out.

Above them, the moon was carved in thick white chalk, a perfect full circle.

The roots reached down again.

By the end of the mural, the tree had grown monstrous.

Its branches swallowed the sky.

Its roots tangled with bones.

The villagers still knelt and bowed their heads in worship, though some of them had already begun twisting and deforming into more monstrous shapes.

The bonfire hissed softly in the silence.

Nero could feel the air tighten around him, the smell of damp stone and smoke pressing close.

“W-what is this?” He whispered.

Suddenly, the voice of the Divine Oracle bled into his ears in the silence, even as the white light from behind flickered to obscurity.

{These murals depict a story of an Angel’s fall from grace}.

Nero’s eyes widened, “What do you mean?”

The Oracle was silent for a moment.

Then its monotone wormed into his mind again, this time, a beat darker and more menacing than ever,

{The Angels are beings of divine ordinance— Messengers of the Divine Will. The Gryghori in particular, were granted the role of watching over the humans. To observe and to guide them}.

{However, since the Divinity cannot speak the spoken words of men, they do so with Divine revelations. With miracles and with visions}.

{But as beings of the Divinity, the Angels are created of the Ein Sof. They do not have desires or moral inclinations. But humans do. And with that, the foundation of desire births Will. And Will births corruption. Or rather, a change of inclination. And this change of inclination, when left to spiral on its own, leads to the creation something that cannot be controlled— Corruption}.

{The desire of the humans, to understand the divinity. To peer into and through the realms their souls could not comprehend…}

{And with the birth of that desire…

Sacrifice, worship, blood… Something. Anything. The Gryghori sought to become more than what they were.

In other words, they desired.

And from their desire, was born corruption.

The corruption of desire, in a way, was the fault of the humans, as they manifested Will into their Watchers, declaring them their gods. The Angels are beings of Ein Sof— a force that has no intrinsic moral qualities or desires. By being touched with human ideology and reverence, the nature of their Ein Sof shifted as well}.

{The greatest flaw of the Gryghori, was their development of Will. And with Will comes desire and faith. That faith is then projected onto the humans who, birthed the false “god” into existence, creating for a unique paradox. That, is the secret of this tale. The human created the god, Sariel. Or rather, they acknowledged the existence of the Gryghori, Sariel}.

Nero stared at the wall of paintings with fear smoldering in his heart.

It was a story he had heard a thousand times over at this point.

However, this was a very stark difference compared to what he had been taught.

“But weren’t the Gryghori said to have fallen from the heavens? In that case, then how come—”

“The heavens and the earth are not that far apart}.

Nero trembled, “W-what does that mean?!”

{The Heretic does not have access to that information at his current Tier. Upgrade your Seal of Sin to access the next stage}.

“The humans discovered the Fallen Ones by creating their gods. In other words, this is all our fault.”

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