A burning church, with a burnt man inside of it.
The once Handia of the MRA walked with his personal guard, his entourage, and himself marched towards an isolated church, opening the great doors to the Holy Place, he sat, lighting a cigarette, inhaling, exhaling, he spoke to GOD out loud, he was the only one who was to pay witness to the mad-man...
"Our Most Holy and Great Lord-GOD, for what else do you have for me, your loyal servant? Am I to now wither and die? The Big Four have turned to heathenry and paganistic ideas of false romanticized senses of mercy and honor, they believe we are no more just in our belief, in your place, your plan for us, Our Most Holy and Great Lord-GOD... I attempted to stop the atheistic heathens from corrupting us, our place, our most holy of crusades against the heathen... Yet, Our Most Holy and Great Lord-GOD, I have failed you... I am sorry."
The Once-Handia flicked his cigarette to the carpet, itself sparking a small flame.
"My Most Holy and Greatest Lord-GOD, I breathe in your service, I bleed in your service! I brought forth the revolution of us Mercatorii! In the name of Alexei, Mother, and you, my Holy Master GOD, I brought to the pagan host the terror of their atheism, the pain of their traitorous heresy. OUR, revenge, was struck to them, in the branding iron, the blade of iron, like Owyn, I purified the pagan, the heretic, the monster, those who dare question your most holy word. My Most Holy and Great Lord-GOD, ye whom crafted land and sky, how do they not see? Roko, Morado, Petrovich, the rest... They are Heretics to turn their backs on the two of US, my Lord-GOD!"
The flame grew, it cackled as the madman rambled on.
"They abondon US, you, MY Lord-GOD, my humble, MASTER GOD. We are the revolution! We are what has spread OUR word, my Lord-GOD, I see future for the Mercatorii people, under your banner, like Mankind before, the battered, bloodied banner, bearing the Cross of Mother Mercatore! I see the soldier, the citizen, the men among men who see as I do, who are not yet blind to the heresy of modernity and conservator... They call me radical, they call me mad? I see who is mad, who is blind, who is wrong, it is thy whom ignore your grace, your word, your mercy, your greatness, who ignore you, my Lord-GOD!
I Know the pagan is of weaker stock, they are born into the slavery of their mistakes, their weakness is not learned, they are born with their curse... Their curse must be eradicated, destroyed, removed, call it what you will my Lord-GOD, but the cure for the world, for MAN, for our kin, and future kin, and their future we must secure their betterment... If not the Mercatorii, then who?! Lord-GOD, I Believe I know my message, I know my faith, I know my life, and it is yours!
Oh, Mother! Alexii and Merlene! You hear me from the Skies, don't you? Don't you know what your children have degraded to? What we scrap to survive! I do, I take that life gratefully in the name of GOD and you, my parentals above! However, the traitor Roko and his heretical follows of their atheistic cult of ignorance, heretical nonsense, and the Traitor Son Merous. I know the Traitor Son has infected them, I know it, Lord, I do. Does Simon think me MAD? He does! As does Roko and Petrovich, they think me INSANE? They are mad, they are lost, they are to seek help in your arms, Lord-GOD. Not me, not me, not me!"
The Fire had spread, as the church filled with smoke, he stood still, he did not move, only stood in his place as he monologued to GOD.
"Lord-GOD, I have seen it, the paradise, in where Mercatore lay embathed in sun light and other goodness we are not common to yet. I will break into pieces right in front of you, as you watch in wonder, Lord-GOD, I will die in your name in one-hundred times at your command... I shall die for you! Yes, right now, Lord-GOD, I shall meet with you, I am soon to be with you, with you Mother, with you Alexii, with you, Merlene! To soon was MRA taken from me, yet now, I see why! Lord-GOD thank you, you have brought me here to die! Thank you, my Lord, my creator! I will see father, mother, all of them! I am prepared! Take me Lord, Master, Creator, I am ready. I was blind, yet now I see.
As Mother Mercatore wished for life, I wish for you to take me, Lord-GOD!"
The Once-Handia, he held both arms out, looking to the burning church as he inhaled the smoke from the flames.
"Take me Lord-GOD!"
Was what was last heard from the Fanatic, his rambling silenced, the burning for wood and cackling of fire was all that overtook the voice of the Once-Handia,, perhaps permanently, perhaps not... Though it was sure, he would not be seen for a long time, maybe forever...