I slowly became apathetic to the way the world rotted before me, decrepit as ashes fell from the skies above. Gazing through the eyes of the deity, becoming the earth and all within. Reflecting my own sanity, he who saw what they had been fighting against.
'To whom have we been giving our efforts to?!'
Konrad found himself lost within a barrier of doubt, leaning into the rupture of madness, he gazed into chasms of abyssal growths—these bulbs of destiny were the sights of one who had submitted to the infection—the so-called rot.
Where it came from, or where it would go—these remain a mystery. And albeit an issue, it was much easier for the people of the earth to submit to the fear, rather than attempt to conquer whatever terrifying thing lay on the other side - they knew its futility. Some would yell, some would cry - all would pray to the earth beneath them, and the heavens above them. A deity would listen, heed their words. Who was it that heard them?
