† Sinner †

When did you last sin?

Conquest, war, famine, death.

Lust, gluttony, greed, sloth, wrath, envy, pride.

Adultery, unmercifulness, deceit, heresy, fraud, incest, idolatry.

So much more.

There's no end to the sins committed by mankind—endless possibilities of being sentenced to burn in Hell.

Anyone can apply to go there. Everyone sins.

You don't even have to ask yourself what sin exemplifies you the most because you already know what sin you've committed before, no matter how trivial or consequential it may have been.

The result of free will. If the human mind and imagination know no bounds, so do their actions. Actions that lead them to sin, to Hell.

"Well, hopefully, it will be a little less cold down there."

A young man, barely nineteen years old, croakily murmured between two heavy breathings, creating a small condensation cloud escaping from his lips. His battered and faded clothes were covered in blood, and the large wrench he held in his hand was equally crimson, while on one end of the tool rested a few skull fragments from his victims.

"I flipped out..."

Lying on the ground, all around him, a dozen corpses, most of them dead from a well-placed bullet, remained there, bleeding, their eyes still open in a puddle of their own blood and brain matter.

However, the two individuals before him had experienced a much more brutal end. A man and a woman, both once quite handsome, had their faces sunken into itself by the violent blows they endured and were still nerve-twitching on the snow-covered dead leaves.

After looking at his state, the young man spat on their bodies, throwing the wrench to the ground while rubbing his aching knuckles.

"Serve you right," He mumbled again before sitting on the ground, still close to their corpse. Lighting a cigarette with his old zippo lighter, he muttered again. "You're lucky that I found you first. The others would've tortured you for God knows how many months. I guess you fucking traitors would actually deserve this, but..."

He took a puff off his cigarette, the first one he'd smoked in months. This shit was as gross as ever. Mingled with the odor of blood and gunpowder, he was feeling nauseous.

"But... No... I guess I'm too kind."

The young man glanced at the couple in front of him, a deep-rooted disgust filling his heart with irrational anger. He'd ended it all. It was his last rush of hatred towards them, like a farewell.

His mother and sister could now rest in peace.

"Alright."

Standing up, holding his thorax with difficulty walking, bleeding from the head, the face of his late mother and big sister flashed before his eyes.

This asshole joined the community a little over a year ago, did a lot of good things, became kind of a friend to him, got close to his big sister, ended up getting her pregnant, but actually cheated on her with someone who was once living in another gang.

Once all this was known to everyone, the dude gave the location of their base to his former gang—the same gang that killed his mother years ago—hoping to save his ass, avoiding being jailed or worse.

It caused the gang to launch an assault, revealing that his former girlfriend was actually the one working with the dude, trying to find an easy way out of her poverty.

At this point, his sister didn't have the strength to go on and passed away during delivery, along with her child.

He hated them, but at least now, it was the end.

—Mom, Big sis, I did it. I...

By now, after this weeks-long hunt, the rival gang had been eradicated, and his community reduced by at least 50%, not to mention the destruction caused by the conflict.

At least he had kept his promise. Revenge is a dish best served cold.

A smile appeared briefly on his face before he bent forward from the pain, looking at the bloody palm he placed to attempt to hold the wound. Struggling to stand, he propped himself up against a tree with his forearm.

"This is as far as I go, huh…"

As the wind grew fiercer, he sat down with his back to the tree, warming his hand with the flame of his zippo lighter, looking at the sky. This was about where Mars was supposed to be right now. It brought him back memories of a couple of years ago.

He was almost 16 years old back then and had woken up from cryostasis due to a machine malfunction that had affected all the pods where his family and a large part of his community were located.

They had been put there thanks to all his father's savings in 2025 after a nuclear war between the Eastern vs. Western block started.

Soon after waking up, around 2097, a nuclear winter was around; even so, he sometimes could see the stars and the lights on the red planet: Mars flickering through his dusty old telescope.

A wealthy man managed to send mankind up to another planet sooner than most people thought back then, but only the richest people got a ticket to another world—a better world, almost magical.

Yet, at some point, he saw the light of Mars cities going out one by one. First was X A-13, then Muskioid. The rest followed.

He surprised himself by being overly satisfied, feeling peace and adrenaline when he witnessed all of it unfold. Whatever event avenged these people's cowardice, and even if there were still survivors up there, they would struggle as much as he did. It was maybe his inner sadism taking over him for an instant; after all, a post-apocalyptic world isn't good for your mental health.

At least he found the Resistance, something to live for.

He had done everything he could to help the survivors of his community—exploring areas with high or extreme radiation, fighting other groups of survivors and raiders, looting, hunting, and more.

Yet he couldn't escape the radiation's effects. He had developed multiple cancers, so he was bound to die in agony even if he survived his injury. Drinking water and taking outdated pills weren't doing anything good anyway.

Whatever he did, he looked like a walking corpse for the past year.

"Son!" called a mannish voice as several shuffling footsteps crunching the snow echoed in the forest around him. "Can you hear me?! Hang on! We'll get you back!"

His father's voice. A voice damaged by time and fatigue. He couldn't see him, his eyesight hazy, but he knew that at least he wouldn't die like the traitors, lying on the filthy and freezing ground. From then on, he didn't feel or remember anything until he woke up in an old decrepit hospital bed. The smell of dust and plastic came to his nostrils, making him sneeze.

He knew this place. He was in their headquarters.

Here remained old and new technologies, stuff able to do miracles, developed by scientists before going to Mars or fleeing this world using their own machines. Given his living conditions and his fatal injury, they decided to use a new one, the last machine still working, the newest one—the first person to get a treatment like this—a kind of honorable mention.

"Wait… I can't… accept this shit."

"This is your only way out, son."

"What... about the shelters?"

"Listen, we'll take care of the rest. You can be at ease now. So, please, with this second chance, live free. This is all I wish for you."

"I get it." He smiled. "You just want to get rid of your son, right?"

"You read me like a book." His father chortled, tapping his son's shoulder. "But seriously, I'll die soon too, so this is all I can do for you… I'm just a scientist, so this is the only thing in my power. This machine is a one-way ticket. There will be no other possible use. I... created it for you."

"...didn't we say we would never have a tearful farewell?"

"Farewells aren't an easy thing. Saying it to your own kids is... You're the second kid I lost, and your mom too..."

"I understand... Sorry. But let's not start moping around. It's not like us."

"Yeah." His father sighed. "You're right. Then, tell me one thing. You'll live a better life, right?"

"I'll do my best."

"That's a promise?"

"You bet. I promise."

"You promise. I bet. Alright then. I hope you'll lose your virginity this time."

"..."

"Haha! Don't look at me like that. That was just one last dad joke."

"What kind of last word are these? It's not my fault these shitheads cut my dick off when they tortured me..."

"I'm just trying to make you smile one last time before you go." His father sighed with a defeated smile. "You're in too much pain for that, huh? Well... Let's start now."

"Thanks for everything... Again. Ah! Can you bury my guitar, please? Just to serve as a grave."

"Of course. I'll do that."

"Thanks."

"It's nothing." The scientist muttered, looking at his watch. "Well... It's time to go."

He was transported to an immaculate room, a warm, comforting light towered over him as he was tied up in a strange, gooey foam. The few people in the room had given him a mixture of plants and drugs to put him in a trance, and soon enough, he was high enough to see new colors and forms.

It was the first experience like this he had ever had.

"Hey, son... I know you still hear me. Your mom and big sis would be proud of you." His father paused for a moment before taking something in his hands. "Live a brand new life, have fun, enjoy yourself. Do whatever. Sin more. Once again, that's all I wish for you."

The distinct clicking noise of the machine's door echoed in his pod as a cold sensation overtook him. After a few minutes, even if he was high, something violent and smooth hit his whole body like a wave. The particle accelerator he was in just blasted billions of neutrinos into him, making his body fade like the light of a dying firefly.

The young man soon found himself in a black tunnel, the end of which was lit by a soft, gentle light. His ethereal body followed it as if a force pushed him. His soul and spirit flew at high speed through a dark, infinite ocean. Absolute silence, tranquility, it was something completely different than he had ever felt before. He felt like he was alone but simultaneously with someone.

No more pain, no more sorrow.

He was just there, wandering.

How much time was he like this, in a state of trance inside a limbo of darkness?

Maybe some know, but not him. He still felt like he was on an acid trip all this time.

Eventually, everything gradually calmed down as he heard a distant voice, a distant cry. Something he had never really heard before.

"Waaaaaaaah!!"

His own newborn cry and those of another baby just next to him came to his ears. It was freezing, and the light all around him blinded him. As for the air that had entered his lungs, it hurt just as much as a punch to the guts.

"Mrs. Bushido! You did great! I mean, um, I'm not surprised. You are an illustrious Magical Girl, after all!"

"Thank you, Miss... Can I... After all that work, can I see my babies, please?"

"Oh! Sure. We cleaned them. Just like we thought, it's a boy and a girl. They both have beautiful eyes."

He felt the touch of someone on his cheek, then on his body, as a woman's gentle, nurturing, yet restless voice echoed through the room. The kind of voice you only hear once in your life—the type of voice sounding madly in love.

His mother, the woman in front of him, was rubbing her cheek against his. He instantly knew she was stunning, even from that close, even if his eyes struggled to see more than fifty centimeters away.

Her eyes were like two shards of amethyst with long, thick lashes. She had long and slick dark brown hair, releasing a floral scent. She was a graceful, voluptuous woman with a generous chest.

"Ooh... My babies... Ren and Sadako. Your grandmother and I decided on your names. May they give you chances and prosperity."