The short season is now!
The Devil’s reign. And they have lied to you since birth, feeding you stories of red devils with horns, of winged beasts and fire-breathing dragons.
No, silly. The real demons don’t hide in the dark.
They don’t lurk in forests or whisper from ancient tombs. They sit in banks, in government offices, in corporate boardrooms. They draft tax laws, manipulate markets, and sign policies that quietly tighten the noose around your neck. They wear suits, shake hands, and smile in campaign ads.
They fund NGOs under the guise of helping, but they do nothing but siphon your labor, redirecting stolen wealth into their own pockets.
And the pastor, that soft-handed shepherd of the flock, the one who expects you to give ten percent of your earnings so he can live in comfort while you struggle to make ends meet?
Just another Hive slave master.
He preaches humility, tells you to turn the other cheek, to submit, to be patient, and to wait for salvation while he builds his own kingdom here on earth.
He wears a silk tie, lives in a house you’ll never afford, dines at tables you’ll never sit at. He is not your guide. He is not your teacher. He is part of the machine, a cog in the great deception.
And you still think Christ is yet to come?
That He will reign for a thousand years in some distant future?
No, silly. It already happened. Two centuries ago. Tartaria was His kingdom, the thousand-year reign, the era of light and prosperity.
It was wiped away, buried under lies, rewritten into a different story, a different history. For 206 years, we have lived in the aftermath.
The apocalypse is not coming. It is here.
Walk through the streets of any great city, and you will see the ruin. Rows of tents, stretching block after block.
Men who once had purpose, now slumped in the corners, eyes vacant, souls drained.
Drugged into submission, numbed into oblivion, cast aside like broken tools no longer needed. They were once workers, fathers, craftsmen, builders, and dreamers.
Now they are nothing. The parasite has no use for them anymore, so it lets them rot, turning their suffering into just another industry to be exploited.
And all the while, the machine grinds on.
The taxman takes his cut, the middlemen skim their share, the banks manipulate your debt, your time, your very existence.
It is a slow, systematic draining of your life force, disguised as order, as civilization, as progress.
They tell you the system works. But for who? For them. Not for you.
They scattered us like the tribes of Babel, tore us apart, and made us forget who we were.
But we are remembering.
We are finding each other again, speaking the old language, recognizing the patterns, and seeing through the illusions.
We are regrouping. Harder. Sharper. No more blind obedience. No more quiet submission.
We are the end crew. End crew. Do you innerstand?
Sovereignment over government!
Thy Kingdom Come!
Author Unknown
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