"¿Lo ves?" Gareth Pruitt Truman miró intensamente a los ojos a cada miembro de la enorme congregación. "La oscuridad." Él golpea su pie y los miembros jadean, una mujer se desmaya.

“Verán, amigos… está en todos y cada uno de nosotros. Lo que nosotros, como humildes servidores, necesitamos más desesperadamente... es poder. ¡El poder… de traer LUZ!”

La congregación responde al 'alto santo padre' Truman con un "¡SEÑOR SÍ!" Los espectadores desde casa se unen gritando a sus televisores durante la transmisión.

“Un paso adelante, joven”. Gareth señala a alguien al fondo del auditorio.

Todos se vuelven para ver quién ha sido elegido por su santidad. Era un hombre compuesto enteramente, y pobremente, de almohadas, aunque no planteaba dudas. A través de una sonrisa acojinada, había una clara oscuridad.

"Aquel que está sentado en lo alto ha traído tu destino a nuestro lugar de adoración y ahora puedes sentir su gracia dentro de ti". proclamó el entusiasta pastor. El ser-almohada subió los muchos escalones para acercarse al podio y experimentar esta gracia.

"Arrodíllate ante tu señor". ordenó el padre.

Una pata de almohada se hundió en el suelo y el ser perdió un poco de altura. Sus impresiones faciales se suavizaron a la espera de la bendición.

“Dentro de ti persiste el pecado supremo, el más malicioso de los males”. Gareth colocó su mano sobre la almohada y volvió sus propios ojos con picardía hacia la congregación cuya respiración estaba contenida. "Y usted no está solo en esa condición".

Gareth golpeó su otra mano contra el dorso de la que estaba sobre la almohada. El ser se puso de pie y se enfrentó a los demás. Sobre una cara tonta y marcada estaba la huella de la mano del pastor. Bajó silenciosamente las escaleras y salió del edificio.

“¡Otro milagro ante tus ojos! ¡Limpiados a la luz del señor!

El servicio concluyó con la congregación aplaudiendo lo que Truman intentaba hacer pasar como un milagro y pagando los diezmos al ladrón. El rebaño pobre huyó del auditorio menos satisfecho que cuando entró, habiendo dado todo por su fe. Y regresaban, entusiasmados por que algo cambiara, sólo para encontrar el mismo resultado. En realidad, el show de Gareth no fue todo en vano. Sus acciones tentaron a un destino mucho menos teatral que el camino que recorría actualmente.

Antes de acostarse, habló por teléfono con un compañero del espectáculo religioso. “Creo que es hora de expandirse. Quiero abrir otro local cerca de la ciudad. Simplemente ya no gano lo suficiente con estas ovejas. Ya no es como solía ser. ¡Apenas diezman!”

“¿Les dijiste que el señor se lo exige?”

"Sí, tal vez se lo cuente otra vez". Gareth se despidió, guardó el teléfono y ahuyentó una abeja, una de las muchas que había estado tratando de erradicar últimamente.

Mientras el pastor se acostaba a dormir, notó que su cama era mucho más cómoda de lo que recordaba. Comenzó a creer en el cielo cuando su cabeza se hundió en el material más lujoso que jamás había sentido. En la oscuridad, pensó que sus ojos lo engañaban. En la almohada, una cara. Encima, la marca de su propia mano.

Truman luchó por cada respiro y estaba perdiendo. Buscó la lámpara al lado de su cama para golpear al agresor. Su dedo apenas alcanzó, pero pudo accionar el interruptor y traer luz.

La pelea terminó cuando se encendió la luz. La almohada se deslizó hacia la noche y no fue ninguna sorpresa. El pastor recuperó el sentido rápidamente y se dio cuenta de que un hombre vestido con una túnica de color rojo oscuro estaba sobre él, con cuernos sobresaliendo de su cabeza. En el techo se proyectaba detrás de él una sombra de alas oscuras y destrozadas, que se extendía por la habitación.

"¡Demonio!" gritó Gareth, empujándose contra la pared detrás de él.

Diez voces lo bombardearon en respuesta: "Silencio".

El asesino movió sus manos de tal manera que se formó una hoja roja de odachi. Truman estaba demasiado aterrorizado para emitir sonido alguno, aunque parecía estar gritando a un volumen increíble. El largo odachi atravesó su pecho, atravesó la cama, el suelo y, trágicamente, atravesó las formas de vida más valiosas bajo tierra.

"Elevar." Una voz incorpórea habló.

Gareth se quedó completamente vacío, escuchando la siguiente palabra.

“Estás aquí no porque merezcas la redención, sino porque la redención es la única sentencia adecuada para tu eternidad. Arriba, abajo, entre. Eres indigno de todo esto. Has extraviado a muchos que de otro modo habrían vivido una vida sencilla y recta”. La voz no le permitió a Gareth hablar. “Al otorgarte el poder necesario para la redención, te despojaré de todo lo que tienes”.

Un orbe de blanco puro apareció en el vacío, la luz bañó al falso santo, seguida por su sombra. Sintió que este era un destino peor que la muerte… luego, no sintió nada en absoluto.

Introduzca el Evangelio.

“Next time, don’t schedule the shipment so late.” Big Dino warned his henchmen.

“Boss, we can’t move our product in the daylight. You know it’s especially difficult to avoid the cops when you’re around. Imagine doing this with pedestrians around, we’d be up at PrisonHead before making a dollar.”

Big Dino growled in response, knowing his man was right, but still feeling inconvenienced. There was a trivia show that night that he was playing along with, though how he framed it to his crew was that he had a ‘score to settle’.

Unloading trucks back at the warehouse, the mobsters were incapacitated. The world went dark for Big Dino and a bright light shone in front of him. He knew what was to come.

“REPENT.” spoke the powerful voice.

“You gonna haunt me like a ghost or something? I don’t owe you anything.” Big Dino was dismissive of the one who brought him to the world of man.

The light disappeared and all the stunned henchmen awoke, discussing briefly and then back to work. It was not over, however.

This time, the men were not taken out. Light filled the hideout, illuminating all the criminal activities taking place. Drugs, weapons, stolen items and money filled the room. Light began to fade to reveal the source. 

A man stood on the air, eyes glowing bright white, with a staff, at the end of which was a luminous, floating orb. His features were obscured by the light, but his face was greatly displeased.

“LOWEST OF ALL LIFE.” the room shook with his voice and light spread from him in a wave across the room. All of the men were knocked back, as the power was clearly not a final measure, more of signaling them for their chance to run.

All the henchmen looked to Big Dino and his steadfast position gave them reason not to take the opportunity. Instead, guns were tossed to each man, and Big Dino smiled.

“Get him outta here.”

With the boss’s command, the being of light was peppered with bullets. He made no effort to stop or even slow any of the barrage. Instead, his facial features lightened up for a moment. It seemed the retaliation was so futile, it was humorous.

Unharmed, the being removed all bullets from his skin and clothing. Metal in a flash turned to even brighter specks of light. Then, with a motion of the staff, they were all sent out, penetrating every single henchman. From their lifeless bodies, light shone through the holes left behind. Big Dino, scowling in the distance, was not touched.

“See that?” he pointed to the wall behind him, which also had holes of light. Curiously, they were in his exact outline. “No wonder you’re trying to convince me to repent. You can’t touch me.” Big Dino menacingly walked towards the man of light. “But I’m willing to put money on this, friend. I can touch YOU.” He dropped to all fours and charged the corner where the being stood. 

Before reaching the corner, it was dark for a moment until the light reappeared behind him.

“REPENT.”

“You’re panicking.” Big Dino charged again.

“REPENT” the building shook violently.

“Name my sin, firefly.” the dinosaur composed himself and returned to two legs, noticing his suit was all torn up.

“MUR-” while speaking, he was interrupted by the horns of Big Dino.

Pinned against the wall, the two locked eyes.

“Under this suit… I’m still a dinosaur, but under all that light, you’re still just a man.”

Big Dino began to press into the being, who was gripping his staff still. His power couldn’t intervene with the dinosaur again, but his body could. He slammed the orb against the side of the mob boss’s head, causing him to stumble and in that moment, teleported away.

“That’s right, altar boy.” Big Dino mocked the fleeing deity. He checked the clock and sat on the couch, just in time for his trivia. He’d worry about staffing back up another time.

Following a police report and numerous reports, the being known as Gospel had become a common topic in Big City. Exposing the operations of a crime syndicate by shredding the walls of their warehouse with beams of light put a stop on major crimes for a few weeks. Many saw Gospel as a savior of the city, the first to challenge the new regime of wrongdoers, who were united under BD’s leadership.

Within the city, Gospel would appear sparingly. At moments of darkness, of pain, he would illuminate and heal. Over a short span of time, he amassed a following of adoring, devoted fanatics. They called themselves ‘The Children of Gospel’, and dressed all in white with black ties. Gospel himself was not totally unaware of the phenomenon, but had chosen to ignore it as it seemed benign.

Each month, in Big City Park, thousands gathered to meet and discuss the latest rumors and sightings of their deity. It was often a place for people with not much else to do to come and connect and find community. They rallied peacefully and spread the good word of Gospel’s many miracles.

The Children of Gospel became a more and more prominent force in the city. Traffic jams were caused by the white-clad righteous recruiting drivers unlucky enough to have had their window down.

“Gospel will be at our next meeting. He told us! You should come!” The overexcited woman handed the driver a pamphlet and held a smile that was much too wide. Gospel made no such claim, but that rumor spread quickly, and the thousands prepared to come to the meeting multiplied tenfold.

On the day of the meeting, in the park, so many people gathered that they bled out into the street. The rally was no longer a peaceful one. Those believing themselves more devoted were hostile towards those of a more casual fandom. Original members held a firm authority over the group, though it was wildly out of control. 

One civilian on the street gave the entire group something to unite over. He shouted from across the way, “Children is right!”

The simple, silly comment sparked mayhem in the blink of an eye. Many thousands of people charged across the street towards the man, many of which having no idea why. They reached the man and started to attack mercilessly. He whimpered on the ground until he fell silent. The mob didn’t stop. Those who were less aware believed they were going after non-believers. Down the street, they swarmed civilians and beat them to death.

Silence now fell on The Children themselves. Gospel shone above the park and the cloudy sky was filled with fading light. “He’s here!”, “It’s him!” “Gospel!!” These whispers filled the area until everyone realized their savior was not pleased.

“WICKED FOOLS.”

Reality rattled and infinite voices rang out in everyone’s minds. Gospel lifted the bodies of the five deceased with a motion of his staff and flew them to his side. His eyes, robes and orb began to take on a blackness which slowly grew.

“YOUR SINS WILL UNDO YOU.”

The bodies melted into purity, countless shards of light, spreading across the park slowly. Gospel moved his hand, launching the light of the first body towards the crowd, who began to run, screaming.

In the emptiness formed by the evacuation, the Sun God, Zol, stood tall, a staff similar to Gospel’s in hand. As the shards neared those near him, he flashed his staff and absorbed the light.

“No.” Zol commanded in every language, running forward and transforming into the golden bird of legend. He flew at a stunned Gospel, knocking the darkness into remission and carrying him away from the dispersing fanatics. As the two soared out of the city, they battled with their powers of light in the air.

Gospel teleported to the ground below and awaited Zol, who transformed back into a man.

“They are human, Gospel. You must guide them past their errors. They want you to lead them.”

“I cannot lead them. I’ve not grown from when I was human. In both lives, I fostered a flock of sin and weakness.”

“A shepherd would not cull his flock.” Zol gave Gospel a stern eye. “Your intentions are pure. Let them witness.” Zol stepped close to Gospel, who remained steady. He peeked into his eyes as if looking through a window. “That Darkness. That was not you. That, you should not foster.” Zol disappeared in a flash of sunlight.

Gospel phased back out of reality and into his vacuous white dimension between, standing ready to intervene wherever needed. He considered Zol’s warning, but constantly felt the darkness move within. Zol was wrong… it was him.