<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: bold">"A shame,"</span> he said softly as he stood out on the balcony overlooking Mittenwald, high above the bustling populace. He could see crowds of people moving around without any discernible order, could see markets and squares and churches… it was humanity at its most simple, most rudimentary. Naive to the workings of the mighty, ignorant of the powers that would ultimately determine their fate, these people were like ants, toiling in their colonies and farms, consumed by the colorless labors of the moment, without a single thought for the boot that could come crashing down on them at any moment, obliterating them along with all that they know. <br/><br/>Gone, wiped out, without even an echo remaining of what they were, erased from the memory of time, with not even the faintest mark of their doings left behind. It would be as if they had never existed, for the world did not care for their pitiable lives, did not concern itself with what they deemed important- for they lacked the insight to even grasp the <span style="font-style: italic">concept</span> of importance. No, their worlds were minuscule, the extent of their relevance as insignificant and paltry as a thin wisp of vapor, easily dispersed by the wind. <br/><br/>Zanzibar's black, dead eyes latched onto one location in particular, sensing the powers gathered there. <br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold">"A shame,"</span> he repeated, <span style="font-weight: bold">"that I must depart before they are dealt with." </span><br/><br/>The powers assembled were now clearer to him than ever before; he tasted of their essence, recognizing them for what they were. One of them in particular felt very familiar to him, and as he made the connection he felt the edges of his lips curve up into a malicious smile. <br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold">"Consorting with Angels, then, Asmodai? You are less vindictive than I thought. I am disappointed." <br/></span><br/>He was The One, he feared nothing, yet at this early stage the presence of Angels -these <span style="font-style: italic">particular</span> Angels- could prove troublesome to him. He knew their power, could feel it, even if in some cases it was the echo of their presence alone, and it was clear to him what they were. No ordinary Angels, that was a given. But it mattered not, for he would crush them all. <br/><br/>He would crush them as he would everyone else, and those unwilling to bow before his Glory would do so with shattered limbs. He was the salvation of all, and those who refused to accept it would seal their fate as the damned, the unbelievers, the ones who would prefer to stand with an invisible, uncaring God that would never eclipse the might of Zanzibar, the chosen who brings with Him a new age of reckoning. <br/><br/>But not yet. There were other, more pressing matters to attend to. Let the insects gather and conspire against him, one arrow was the same as a thousand, when the target was a mountain. He would brush them aside like the inconsequential gnats that they were, when he returned. Oh yes, he would be returning, of that there was no doubt. <br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold">"It may not be on the third day… but I shall rise again. And my shadow will forever cast this world into darkness."</span></div>