Apocalyptic Prose

During the latter part of earth’s history, there will come a time when evil will be shown no quarter. Too long hath wickedness been allowed to reign. Far more often than not, injustice hath been allowed to triumph and celebrate perverse victory, besides. During the end of days, the upheaval shall seem swift. Even though in reality, the destruction of all evil hath been countless eons in the making. All the while, truth and justice have had to weather the storm of ages past as well as the presumed tempests of ages to come. This era, however, is the era of Dominus Rex.

During the violent crescendo of battle, the cacophony of justice prevails. As evil rises, it is just as quickly struck down. As the children of evil, now full-grown and repugnant look on. The executioner’s blade strikes true, and to the fullest extent. What is supposed to be the ebb and flow of battle is instead a tidal wave of truth crashing down on malevolence with a terrible vengeance. As the horsemen execute their father’s will, the sons and daughters of evil become ever more aware that their days are numbered.

With great sword in hand and justice in their hearts, the riders roll onward toward their father’s liberation. Against they who tried to sacrifice their kin, whether it be hither or yon. It is sorrow they cut down, treachery that they hunt down. The writing is on the wall, and that does not bode well for they of the unholy consensus. They who aspire to heaven that was never real, to begin with. They who pray to their false god, not realizing that they yet pray to an echo that is actually the most minuscule of things compared to the backdrop of eternity. They may as well pray to the vastness of space, the result will be the same. They pray to a cold darkness that hath long since been slain.

All that is left is for the denizens of evil to reap what they have sown. Time after time, a mockery hath been made of justice itself. How scorn hath manifested itself in the form of laughter, and how normal it has seemed. Oh to be trapped in a world where all is backward, including up and down. When the people cry out for their evil saviors, they will be sorely disappointed. During these deathly times, few will be spared, if any at all. Perhaps that is redundancy among beings who are quite literally born to die. Or perhaps the seemingly abrupt end to the world of evil hath been foretold during eons past and simply ignored by the children of evil, now full-grown and all too willing to continue the foul legacy of their forebears.

Whatever thy beliefs, it truly matters not. For none can stop the irreversible course of earth’s history. None shall rise afterward to revise that which hath truly been done. The only people who will be capable of remembering will instead choose to forget as soon as their lord returns to the blessed realm and is welcomed as a conquering hero. Remember thy choices and remember them well. For all will inevitably have to stand before and answer to the almighty Dominus Rex.

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