The pact

This sound is a black metaphysical monster. This sound is a synthesis of a harange by Napoleon and a murmur by Nietzsche. This sound is a Mephistophelic psalm which would be hard to find the like. This sound is the creator of many species of insects that did not exist until recently, of vermin never seen before, this sound is Beelzebub. This sound is the first light of the Infinite Day, one of the combatants of the distant and approaching army of anthropotheity. This sound is only its Shard. This sound is the absolute Will, scattered by the weakening of the force in the world. This sound is God. This sound is quite dangerous. No abyss separates these three realms, and if it existed and if we had the power to see only a tiny part of it, the vertigo and terror that its depths would bring us would plunge us forever into madness. and oblivion. At the edge of the void, the land inhabited by Misa Tridente is instead a Hell tempered by Nothingness, and with it history is a passion and its victims are legion. On the other side of the border, Lacrimi si Sfinti cruxifies the Magna Mater there in its fields of emptiness, pouring out on the world anathemas which would only be sublime but neurotic prose, if they did not carry along, these sharp, definitive anathemas, already irrefutable prophecies. And at the end of this world, God is a monster, and his theologians the architects of the torture chambers. Inselberg signs the end of a time and draws the destruction of the universe, revealing the negative of an immaculate purity with contingent forms. Through the idea of ​​sacrifice, he offers here the homily of the frontiers of time, projection of his own demiurgic perditions as the ultimate rhetorician of the absolute and extinction.