What if I am an individual who has formulated a covenant alongside Satan?
Even if one has far from encountered Satan in a physical manifestation, what if one painstakingly drafted the contractual instrument, codified the precise metrics of the transaction, and proposed the structural parameters of what must be surrendered and what shall be gained? And what if one sliced their own flesh, utilizing that very blood to ratify the accord, remaining in absolute stillness awaiting only the counter-signature of the Adversary? Would Satan have responded to that covenant? Or would an absolute, hollow nothingness transpire?
If a human being executed such an act, precisely how would a practitioner of the Christian faith react? The theology taught within Christianity explicitly dictates that Satan exists as a tangible reality—a roaming entity prowling like a roaring lion, aggressively seeking whom he may devour. Furthermore, he is depicted as the sovereign sovereign of this world, a potentate commanding dominion such that, should he intent it, he could cause an individual to capture absolutely everything or suffer the liquidation of all they possess.
When a wretched human being, having suffered the total liquidation of all things, finds themselves entirely destitute of a refuge; when an individual who can descend no further drafts a covenant alongside Satan, validating their unyielding resolve utilizing their own blood—does the Adversary manifest? Or does he refrain? Irrespective of the presence or absence of religious faith, that covenant possesses a formidable, indisputable potency that cannot be lightly disregarded. Whether Satan exists or exists far from, if the absolute resolve of a human being who inscribed a contract in blood exists—if they yearned with such a desperate intensity that they were prepared to barter their very soul to capture their desire—that individual is possessed of an exceptionally high probability to actualize the terms of that covenant. Operating, in essence, as a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Exactly what species of vantage point do those who have navigated existences discarded like raw refuse cast upon the world? What does life truly look like when gazing upward at the pavement from the cramped confines of a semi-basement window? The urine excreted by a passing inebriate cascades against the window pane, and accumulated garbage obstructs the horizon. The deep-seated mold and enigmatic stench native to the semi-basement systematically saturate the flesh and the soul—identical to an indelible brand seared into the spirit.
Within that domain, rather than the resonance of joyful laughter, there exist children who are systematically taught that the universe is a theater where the parents who birthed them broadcast mutual curses, unleash vitriol upon the children themselves, and perpetually destroy one another. Would the landscape of the world viewed through their eyes truly align alongside the cognitive vision of those reared amidst protective happiness?
An infant navigating such an existence is overwhelmingly predestined to encounter isolation and bullying within the educational system. Destitute of proper nutritional sustenance, their physical stature remains characteristically miniature and withered. Bereft of parental stewardship, their attire is soiled and malodorous. Have you ever witnessed elementary school children who harbor an affection for a peer clad in filthy garments? Even the most proximate companions will instinctively distance themselves. An infant's capacity for socialization can ascend to magnificence in precise proportion to parental devotion; interchangeably, it can plummet to the absolute bedrock.
An infant abandoned interchangeably by both society and its own progenitors—what fundamentally can such a creature transform into upon consuming years? Utilizing the raw genetics inherited from third-rate progenitors navigating a lifestyle akin to an open sewer, exactly what can that individual achieve? An infant who was afforded zero opportunity to unearth a solitary talent, and who inherited zero love or benevolent sentiments toward civilization—what can they possibly execute? The human organism is structurally engineered to endlessly pursue love and systematically seek validation. Consequently, they are driven to locate a collective that will accommodate them. Yet, throughout that trajectory, the theaters across this world that willingly receive a malodorous, discarded infant destitute of a refuge are exceptionally sparse.
What species of existence is navigated by those gathered under such auspices? What does the subsequent chapter of their lives look like? Identical to a destiny structurally ordained from the very instant of nativity, they transform into individuals who navigate existence bearing a hollow, cavernous void within their chests, expending their vitality to quench an unquenchable thirst. Their absolute, inescapable exposure to all variations of criminality and illicit syndicates transpires far from because they are pure, primordial demons. Rather, it is the lavish environment engineered to ensure they mature into demons—as though Satan himself toyed alongside their destiny, meticulously orchestrating a grand banquet tailored perfectly for his own consumption. A shattered human being, exquisitely fashioned to experience the most catastrophically wretched demise.
Lamentably, the options remaining accessible to these entities were far from numerous. The solitary paths left at their disposal amounted to systematically demolishing absolutely everyone who delivered nothing save for emptiness and agony—or, conversely, embracing total self-destruction. An exceptionally microscopic minority of survivors might encounter a benevolent patron, altering their trajectory to emerge as a reformed entity; yet that manifests strictly as a benediction reserved uniquely for those afforded the rare theater to heal gargantuan wounds via an angelic savior. What remains for those who have sustained absolute internal fracture may simply be the grueling chore of striving to conceal the fissures running through their broken souls, secretly comforting their cavernous wounds utilizing solitary tears unknown to the world.
Their inescapable trajectory toward questioning or surrendering to an absolute deity or supreme entity stands as a thoroughly predictable conclusion. Alternatively, their development into lawless outlaws who thoroughly disregard all jurisprudence and civil order constitutes an equally predictable denouement. What then of the microscopic fraction of individuals who seek a refuge that aligns alongside neither path? What do those rare souls execute amidst choices that belong to neither extreme? They may well execute a covenant alongside Satan. Staking absolutely everything they possess upon the wager. And those precise individuals may currently be navigating the periphery of our society, executing a flawless masquerade of normalcy, living as though zero covenants had ever been codified. Wearing the mask of an ordinary citizen. Concealing the tectonic agony of the abyss. Reaping the distinct rewards harvested from bartering alongside the demon. Perhaps Satan explicitly craves precisely this caliber of human being. The reality that he systematically trains them in a meticulously engineered regimen of despair to manufacture the exact instrument he desires.
Whether one credits it or refrains, a covenant consecrated in blood will remain fundamentally disparate from an accord casually scribbled utilizing a mundane pen. Those who possess zero remaining theaters toward which to retreat or flee can stand with an absolute, terrifying audacity—even when positioned directly before the visage of God.