SIN Chapter 7; Wrath

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Mister Sir continued to walk up the top of the mountain, leaving everyone behind. He, himself gets to the top of it and stands there waiting, whilst Envy handles the rest of them down below.

He looks up to the sky, able to see the top of the mountain, yet also the final gate, which was a seal on the sky itself, as if restraining his potential of progressing further up the trail. There was no way to get around it, and Mister Sir was apprehended by it only to look back at all the destruction behind him for his want to accomplish his goal. "Yes... All according to my master plan." Mister Sir waited patiently to get to this point, where he, alone, would stand at the next gate of passage.

He was most patient.

"That's right..." the voice from the fires mutters sweetly, yet with a tinge of hostility, "... Destroy each other." This saved the fire trouble doing it, itself. Many eyes open up within the fire, but as anger and hatred spread about the mass, thinning out their numbers all on their own, the fire, known as Wrath, hasn't even truly moved, yet. In fact, it has only manipulated the group and influenced them with its will alone, and hasn't even acted upon its true power. "... Wrath Incarnates," it speaks out to the ones that are angered by whatever event has caused them this much emotional agitation, "... Rise Up."

These demons of Wrath, known as 'Satans,' would become completely consumed by fire, burning the most out of everyone. Where there was peace, they would cause discord and chaos, simply because they could not stand seeing others happy if they were burning on the inside. "You have nothing to be happy about," the voice of the fire spake directly into the minds of the ones that were angered, "So, no one else does, either." From there, the eyes of Wrath merely rested on its minions, which would spread the fire as it saw fit without Wrath, itself, having to move. "Hmhmhmhm... Foolish, disgusting creatures..." Wrath, itself, hated all of them, including its own. They, especially, looked like nothing but horrendous abominations made only to exact its will and complete its goal. Something like Mister Sir had once seen these people as, himself, when he was possessed by Wrath. Now, the Unholy Wrath, which was back to being an entity all of its own, has possession of different vessels, since Mister Sir had become part of the Holy Wrath. The Unholy Ones were tested with fire, just as he was, and if they could not overcome, they would burn up and die before they could get to where they wanted to.

Though a vast majority of the group is angry and causing a problem, the more innocent of the group, who really were just following what they thought was the best path and weren't fully concerned with just their own salvation would begin to speak out, being unable to take witnessing these things for very long. "Wait! This isn't right!" You, who are attempting to make peace amongst the angry, cry out. "Maybe if we work together, we can come to a better solution! What will fighting do?" Your group is small now, but You at aleast know that You are the ones not trying to kill anyone nor destroy anything, which sets You apart from the ones that are, and You can tell the difference. You are certainly afraid, but at the same time, You also are disgusted and appalled and cannot stand to just sit around and watch these things happen. "Please stop fighting!"

"NO!!!" cried out the burning ones, hellbent on getting their revenge for being brought up only to be abandoned and feeling betrayed "THIS IS NOT MY FAULT, SO I WON'T TAKE IT!!!" They cry out, now suddenly turning against you. "YOU'RE WITH THE ENEMY!! KILL THEM!!!" In their blindness of rage, they see only that you are not on their side, and therefore must be slaughtered because you do not agree with them, even if whatever they are doing is against your belief or feeling or thoughts or practices. They seem to care nothing for you, but only about themselves and that you side with them.

These ones, encircled in fire, and emanating a burning aura, would become deformed and ugly right before you as their true nature was brought up out of them through Wrath, itself. Thus, upon their heads, ugly, gnarled horns would sprout, which symbolized their opposition to anything and everyone that was not following them or under them. They would be the mark of everyone that was guaranteed to fight you on anything they did not agree with, quite savagely and mercilessly, at that. This was only the first step of their ungodly transformation.

"TRAITORS!!!" They cried out, their mouths spewing a stinking fire like that of burning sulfur, "YOU WERE NEVER ONE OF US!! YOU'RE PROBABLY LIKE THE ONE THAT LEFT US!!" Not realizing nor considering anything they'd done to be abandoned, the ones left behind immediately shot out infernal things from their mouths; a mixture of slander, hatred, contempt and opposition, as well as many other things, which formed as a flame with a foul stench surrounding each of them, marking them with an odor that was on their breath, like alcohol, and on their bodies, like dirt, all of which was highly flammable.

"DON'T LET THEM ESCAPE!!!" the horned ones cried, ready to take down whatever they thought was their enemy without any attempt to understand or recognize. Immediately, their legs would be wrapped in flames that contorted them into those of a goat or a ram, with cloven hooves that were 'quick to rush into evil.' They charged rather swiftly, and if any of them got in each other's way, their arms would transmogrify grotesquely with the sound of snapping bones and charring flesh into those of the arms of bears, with long, sharp claws that were as quick to cause bloodshed as their feet were to rush into the evil of destruction and battle for literally no reason at all but vanity and selfishness of Pride. Over them, the large hand mirror, Pride, itself, would be casting a spotlight on them, since the vessel hadn't been destroyed. Now, this Sin was possessed by Wrath, since Greed had been destroyed. The face of the Satans, which these bestial creatures were called, would be inside the mirror, and the fire of Wrath would fill the interior.

They were coming to kill you.

"The Ugly Ones Have Finally Shown Their Faces Among Your Group," A Voice Spake To The Ones That Wished For Peace, From Beyond Their Sight. "Do Not Butt Heads With Them, Or You Will Become Like Them, And The Flames Of Wrath Will Spread Unto You And Make You Ugly, Like They Are." Behind Them, They Would See A Man That Had A Turban On His Head, With A Body Like That Of A Stick, Rather Skeletal, Yet Covered In A Divine Aura, And With A Thick, Hearty Moustache Upon His Face, And A Huge Nose. His Pelvis Was Wrapped In A Clean Robe, And His Legs Were Crossed In A Meditative State Over It. "Come, This Way!" He Called Out To Those Who Did Not Seek The Same Antagonism As The Horned Ones, "Follow Me." The Strange Man Floated Away, Without Moving His Body, Rather Swiftly.

You, who are now the enemy of those who were once with You, but now have suddenly been consumed by their own hatred, which has turned them into, or perhaps revealed them to be, an ugly and abominable creature that You were once blind to because they were not upset before due to both Fear and also getting their way, would look on in terror as they came to assault you, like they had done their own. You fear for Your life, because all You wanted to do was to make peace and they wanted to find something to take their hatred out on. Knowing You are outnumbered, You feel helpless and woeful, not wanting Your end to come in this fashion.

Yet, there was a light that was behind You; a floating, glowing man in a turban, of whom is insisting that he may be able to help You escape as long as You follow. When given the option between staying and fighting these terrible demons, as You are clear that they must be at this point, You instead follow behind this man to what You hope is Your safety, with very much haste. Wherever he leads, You follow, and hope You outrun the Wrath incarnates.

The angry monsters, the Wrath Demons, known as 'Satans,' would seek to pursue the 'traitors' that were escaping, but were lost in their own rage with each other to actually catch up before one of them got in the way of the other, or caused another to stumble before the other. "WATCH WHERE YOU'RE GOING!!!" one cried, ramming a horned head into another.

"HOW ABOUT YOU WATCH YOUR MOUTH!?" the rammed one hissed, the sound of a gas leak pouring from the back of the throat, something like the sound of a hissing serpent. Immediately, fire ignited among the two of them, and there was a vicious explosion that blew the group apart, causing all of them to be knocked around and toppling all over each other. Yet, the moment they got up, they all started to look toward the one that caused it, and if he couldn't be found, anyone that was nearby would do. "THIS IS YOUR FAULT!!! NOW THEY'RE GETTING AWAY!!!" They cried, getting up immediately to ram into each other, knocking their own heads around. Those with longer larger horns would easily bash the heads in of the ones with smaller horns, and the ones with smaller horns would be trampled underfoot in a bloody mess.

When they mowed over each other and won their respective battles with whomever was against them, those that hadn't yet turned against each other would look around now, trying to search for a new target to butt heads with. "WHERE DID THEY GO!?" They cried, looking around, becoming more and more enraged the longer they did not get what they desired.

"FOOOOOLS!!!!!!!!!" the fire, Wrath, itself, cried out to them. "GET OUT OF MY SIGHT, YOU UGLY THINGS!!! I TOLD YOU TO GET OUT!!!" The fire, itself reared up, in the shape of an enormous goat-like dragon head, harboring ten huge horns, and a long, scruffy beard of fire. "FILTHY CRETINS!!!!" Immediately, it rushed forward with a powerful force unlike anything any of them had ever seen, bursting forward through the entirety of the trail of the mountain and either killing them on the spot or knocking them away with such force, they would all fall off the mountain as a rain of fire, striking the very base of the mountain, just as the voice of the flames had commanded them to return to. "NEVER DISOBEY ME AGAIN, YOU INFERNAL IMPS." When the unholy unsightly ungodly creations were knocked away, the flame would become docile again, and the eyes would close.