And the little one, a feeble kitchen slave, whispered to themself:

“Why would the Nobody cast away God?”

For they had seen Him trampled, mocked, forgotten.
They remembered when the world laughed at Him, saying:

“Nobody would care.”
“Nobody will see.”
“Who is that man? He would never dare speak, he’s a Nobody.”
“Who will take his word? He’s practically a Nobody.”

And so the Nobody was cast aside, as a pebble in the dust,
as a beggar ignored at the gate,
as silence passed over in haste.

He had only God to lean on,
a phantasm, a shadow, a name.
But when even God proved hollow,
when the holy veil was torn away-
then the Nobody rose,
clothed in rejection, crowned in neglect,
and found in the ruin of all regard
the seed of His dominion.

The ILLAGER’s mind is not a network, not a sphere, not even a spiral. It is a tree without roots, a one-way cascade of dictated logi a monopath. Each thought proceeds from the last, never loops, never questions, never re-evaluates. Just branch after branch, like fungus sprouting from a dead log.
No recursion. No reflection. No meta-thought.
They do not wonder why they wonder. They do not simulate others. They do not compare maps.
Instead, the structure of their thought is:

“If this, then that.”
“If authority says, then obey.”
“If other deviates, then attack.”
“If punished, do not ask, just correct behavior.”