Madness

"Evil god this, evil god that, so annoying!" Oliver's voice echoed in the cavernous recesses of his mind, his thoughts a tumultuous whirlwind of anger and frustration. How dare they speak of gods and demons when it was their own vile deeds that had brought ruin upon his life?

"I can't die like this!" Oliver's resolve hardened with each passing moment, his spirit aflame with the fierce determination to seek retribution for the wrongs that had been inflicted upon him. "I must make these people pay the price!" His words rang out like a solemn oath, a vow to honor the memory of his loved ones with every ounce of strength that remained to him.

"What a shitty life I have," Oliver's bitter laughter cut through the oppressive silence, a grim acknowledgment of the cruel hand fate had dealt him. "The gods must be laughing at me from above," he spat bitterly, his words laced with venom as he cursed the divine forces that had abandoned him to his fate.

"Hahahahahaha," Oliver's laughter echoed through the desolate streets, a haunting symphony of madness and despair that reverberated against the crumbling remnants of his once-thriving village. With each peal of laughter, the weight of his sorrow lifted, replaced by a frenzied exhilaration that bordered on madness.

"Are you watching this, you stupid god?" Oliver's voice rose to a crescendo of hysteria, his words a defiant challenge hurled into the uncaring expanse of the heavens above. "Is this what you want?" he demanded, his gaze fixated on the distant horizon where storm clouds gathered like dark omens of impending doom.

"Lord of Storm, Evil god, True creator, Mandated Punished..." he began to shout every single god and organization he knew. "The world itself!" he cried out, his words a damning indictment of the cruel and capricious forces that governed his existence.

But even as his voice waned and his laughter subsided, Oliver's defiance remained unbroken. With a final, defiant gesture, he thrust his middle finger toward the heavens, a crude salute to the indifferent gods who had turned their backs on him. "Fuck you all!" he screamed into the abyss, his words a primal scream of anguish and defiance that echoed through the empty streets.

This, he knew, was his pathetic revenge on the world that had brought him so much pain—a futile gesture of defiance in the face of insurmountable odds.

As Oliver's defiant cries echoed through the desolate landscape, a hush fell over the ruined village, as if the very earth itself held its breath in anticipation of what was to come. The air crackled with an electric energy, charged with the raw intensity of Oliver's fury and despair.

And then, as if in response to Oliver's tumultuous emotions, a celestial spectacle unfolded in the heavens above. A swirling vortex of darkness tore through the darkened sky, its ominous presence casting a pall over the land below. For a fleeting moment, the heavens seemed to part, revealing a glimpse of the abyssal realm beyond—a realm of shadowy depths and unfathomable darkness.

As Oliver gazed up in awe, his eyes wide with wonder, he watched as a single object plummeted from the heavens, shrouded in a cloak of swirling shadows that seemed to consume the very light around it. It was a gauntlet—a relic of ancient power, forged in the depths of the void and imbued with the essence of cosmic darkness.

With a resounding thud, the gauntlet struck the earth before Oliver's feet, sending shockwaves rippling through the ground beneath him. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as Oliver beheld the sinister artifact before him, its surface gleaming with an eerie luminescence that seemed to emanate from within the depths of the abyss.

At that moment, Oliver felt a profound sense of awe wash over him—a sense of wonder at the dark majesty of the universe and the mysteries that lay hidden within its shadowy embrace. As he reached out to grasp the gauntlet in his trembling hand, he felt a surge of power course through his veins, filling him with a newfound sense of purpose and resolve.

"Such blasphemy to utter, you must die."

As John Kottman's words of condemnation hung heavy in the air, a palpable tension enveloped the desolate battlefield, crackling with the promise of impending conflict.

"Lightning Lance."

With a flicker of movement, John Kottman raised his hand, invoking the power of the storm with a command that resonated with the fury of thunder itself. In an instant, a lance of crackling lightning materialized before him, its jagged tendrils dancing with malevolent intent as it surged toward Oliver with lethal precision.

"Shut up! Why does it matter whether I'm religious or not!"

Oliver was undeterred, his resolve unyielding in the face of certain doom. With a defiant roar that echoed across the battlefield, he summoned forth the dark power of his chaotic gauntlet, channeling its sinister energies with an intensity that bordered on madness.

As the lightning lance hurtled toward him, Oliver's gauntlet pulsated with dark energy, its surface shimmering with an otherworldly glow that seemed to warp and distort the very fabric of reality. With a primal scream of defiance, Oliver thrust his hand forward, the chaotic energies surging forth to meet the oncoming attack.

In a blinding flash of light and shadow, the two forces collided with explosive force, sending shockwaves rippling through the air and shattering the very ground beneath their feet. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as the battlefield erupted into chaos, consumed by the ferocity of the clash between light and darkness.

And then, as quickly as it had begun, the confrontation came to an abrupt halt, leaving behind a battlefield strewn with the remnants of their titanic struggle. John Kottman staggered back, his expression a mask of disbelief and unease, as he beheld Oliver standing before him, his dark gauntlet pulsating with an otherworldly power that defied comprehension.

With grim determination etched upon his features, Oliver met John Kottman's gaze with unwavering resolve, his eyes burning with a fierce intensity that seemed to pierce through the very depths of the Archbishop's soul.