Is it Sin that makes one a sinner?
Or is it Kin that makes one a sinner?

Many say we are born innocent and untainted, and yet in Sin we are all related to one another. For we are one Kin, and with this Sin we share that we are born with. And even a certain doctrine holds that one's Kin, through the fact of birth, inherit a tainted nature with a proclivity to sinful conduct in need of regeneration…

"I was brought forth in iniquity, and in Sin did my Mother conceive me."
…or so the doctrine says,

"We are all born sinners because of Kin that brings us together."
…and so we think: we are born with Sin inherited from our Kin,

But, should that hold us back from acting with virtue?
No, we should not hold back, even when Sin entered the world through one Kin, and Death through Sin, and in this way, Death came to all beings, because all sinned,

But even so, we all have freedom to be a being we want when we embrace Death,
To be a fraudulent Human,
To be a violent Angel,
To be a benevolent Devil,

And what one wants to be, neither "Sin" nor "Kin" should define what "Self" one is going to be, let "Journey" instead that defines one "Self"

Amongst a few meandering clouds wafting across the cerulean celestial sea—like a polished sapphire staring down onto the young boy's struggle—his magic stood out for a dreariness that somehow evoked a dear feeling. Atramentous magic, that was his magic; as black as murkiest ink. Quite a contrast for the cerulean that was above him watching. And yet such a color he created wasn't him being a morose; it was him being a reticent kid. He found no better color to express his loneliness—the young boy's or that of his other 'self' residing within him who had been secretly watching him going… hence so, he carried on… despite the cracks under his left arm as he stifled a heave, holding back blood from spurting out of his smirk from lungs that were about to collapse into themselves struggling to breathe out this 'swan song', and should it never be unfaded in a place where everything evanescing, succumbed to the bleakness of snow,


Chapter 154 - None the Worse for Wear