Stand before them a thousand demon that came forth with no warning.
It is an unprecedented apocalypse, doomsday that rushed, the dispunctuality from gods of gods.
The blickering light shone down and struck the ground, burn the earth and made its soil soft as cotton.
Come forth, shiva, the annihilating dance of the universe vast, Nataraja the last.
His posture is small, his eyes are closed, he fold his foot towards another, standing on only one.
He cannot put down that other one.
Because if he does, time will stop. And he does not want that. He wants his victims, his protected, us, legions that soon be gone and its opposition that as soon be saved, to experience his destruction.
He was blessed upon the army of men, out of the united prayer of the hindus, of their living cite, of their dreaming dead.
Behind him, stood every single monk the world ever seen, they paint themselves in red, a sign of broken pacifist promise. They are now as holy as before, but what was purified was no longer a giving heart, but blazing strength and roaming anger. They do not come in peace.
Then the horn, then the sound of warcries, praising the god of their, of how grand and how almighty, and how they now know they are blessed already with the strongest of power. The muslims came. The brotherhood unended, the faith unbroken.
They carry with them genetically engineered steeds, provided by the secret order of St. Paul. As above them, warships, cannons, bio weaponry in human form, floats around in white, the assassins of cross. In the middle of their formation, a mother ship, carrying the spear of destiny, a viral torpedo that target specific cellular organs, the fire heart of demons.
Came forth then, a world leader, a normal, weak, and flawed human. Yet loved, yet trusted, and one that truly understand he is nothing but a mouth.
We all have foreseen this end of the world, in our holy books, manuscripts among manuscripts, even prophecies.
And we know that you, are not our end. You are merely belaguearing evil charging with greed and misfortunes of the old world. There is nothing spiritual nor religious with your uprising. So this day, we, the remaining army of humanity. Fueled with the best weapons our kind can every make us. Faith. And heart full of rage. Will say no, this is not the end.
By then, the time become an undeparted lover, pulling everything by its side, not letting even a single drop of sweat to drop. Mother time is in the enemy’s side.