110 His Painful Immaturity (1/2)

A lone boy silently observed the world atop a bed of passing clouds and hummed an old, familiar tune he hadn't sung in ages.

It looked different to him now. Much smaller and more fragile. Where he had once seen majestic peaks, valleys, forests, and rivers, he now saw the impasto of the world, the beautiful texture of the physical world.

He turned his head toward the ever-distant North. The effects of his actions had forever changed it. The endless winter that had once plagued the land had been dispelled. Spring had finally come for the North after nearly four thousand years of winter, thanks to his meddling.

But that wasn't what he was interested in. He gazed at a certain area of deceased, crumbling land. That parcel of joyless earth would never harbor life again.

It had not healed one bit, even with the blessing he had given it. The damage done to it had been too severe. That area would have to be replaced with something brand new; it could not be repaired.

Much had been revealed to him when he bonded with the Divine Furnace. He had gained a piece of what he had once lost, a missing fragment containing a reservoir of memories and knowledge.

With his newfound knowledge and power, he could have created new land for the North but had decided against it. With the assistance of the Divine Furnace, he could accomplish what others could only dream of doing. That much was for certain — it was, for all intents and purposes, a transcendent tool.

But the power granted by the Divine Furnace did not come without a cost. A heavy price would have to be paid every time it was used.

It was not such a convenient tool. The sun would not rise above the horizon without a sacrifice. Souls, stars, and prayers would have to be offered to the Divine Furnace for it to function as intended.

Such was the relationship between Man and God. There would always be a give and a take between the two. Always.

As a result, he rejected the idea of creating something new. He would not use the Divine Furnace if it meant taking from the people of the world. They had lost enough.

The world doesn't need something like that, anyway. They will remember.

What had happened would forever exist as a scar in the hearts and minds of the people — it was, therefore, meaningless attempting to fix the damage on the land. If anything, it would've been an insult to them had he tried to erase what had happened in the North…

The world had changed and he, too, along with it. He had come to realize what he was capable of doing now.

I'm a threat to this world given what I can do now. I, alone, caused all of this destruction and misery. The fault lies with me.

It was a hard pill to swallow, but he couldn't run away from it. He had to accept that he was directly responsible for everything that had happened. The deaths of millions ultimately fell on his hands.

I made the decision with my own free will. I took her life along with millions of others and used them without permission.

Even if he'd done it to protect the world, it didn't take away from the fact that he had selfishly sold their lives away. He had no right to do what he had done.

Those lives were not his to take. He had no ownership over them, nor had they willingly volunteered themselves as sacrifices.

What he had done was an act of tyranny, plain and simple. An evil act.

No different from what the Infestation does to people.

That wasn't who he was or what he wanted to represent. He comprehended the power he possessed and wanted to be worthy of it. Needed to be. If not, it would only consume him — corrupt him until he became no different than the Infestation.

That I will NOT allow. I will kill myself before I ever let that happen. This multiverse will not have another tyrant oppress it, not while I still breathe…

He kept reminding himself that above all else, he was still mortal beneath the power he had gained.

A Man and not a God.

As a mortal, he was not above the ethics and morals set by his fellow Men. The laws that governed the world — made by Men — still applied to him.

Perhaps God was exempt from the Laws of Man, but he was not. At least, not yet…

As such, he had come to the conclusion that he had committed several crimes. If he was to belong with the people down below, he would have to answer for what he had done to the world.

The lives he had taken and the destruction he had brought upon the world.

The selfish misuse of the power he had been given for his own purposes.

A reckless, selfish murderer who tried to play the role of the hero.

That is what I am.