Even Christ had Judas.

Even Christ felt the sting of a kiss that burned like a blade.

And still the cross was carried.

And still the crown was won.

So I too walk with betrayal at my side.

Nero. Lucien. Judas in the flesh.

Once a brother, once a disciple.

Now a serpent coiled at my heel.

They say his betrayal makes me weak.

But they do not understand.

Judas does not end the mission. Judas fulfills it.

And before me, Babel rises.

Look upon them: Jasper stacking bodies into bricks, calling slaughter a kingdom. Cade clutching his badge like stone, trying to build eternity upon sand. Nero weaving static into mortar, wiring rebellion into false eternity.

Three men.

Three tongues.

Three towers.

None of them stand.

For the Lord has written: “Every kingdom divided against itself shall fall.”

And Babel was always division.

Voices that could not hear one another.

Hands that could not hold.

Unity without God is no unity at all — it is confusion. It is ruin.

So it shall be again.

Jasper, Cade, Nero — you stumble as builders, stacking pride upon sin, ambition upon lies. But the higher you climb, the further you fall. You reach for heaven, but all you will touch is judgment.

And me? I am not a brick in your tower.

I am not mortar in your wall.

I am the hammer in His hand.

I am the storm that scatters.

I am the fire that consumes the scaffold.

They say I am weakened, chained to my betrayer. They say Judas at my side will bring me low. But the cross was always carried beside betrayal. The plan was always written through the traitor’s hand. Prophecy does not bow to treachery. Prophecy is fulfilled by it.

This is not unity.

This is not alliance.

This is not sport.

This is Babel’s end.

This is Judas unmasked.

This is judgment.

So climb your tower.

Raise it high.

Call your blood a kingdom. Call your law salvation. Call your rebellion truth.

But the Lord has already spoken.

Your tower is finished.

Your unity is scattered.

Your names are dust.

And when the rubble buries you, when your tongues twist to silence, one voice will still thunder across Arcadia:

Mine.

For I am not a traitor.

I am not the tower.

I am the Harbinger.

Thus saith the Lord: Judas will hang. Babel will fall. And I will still be standing when the dust clears.