"First, I pursued a specific ideal formed in mah head and named by me in ney other way than "good". After all, everyone who reckons in somethin’ calls their worldview that way, I ain’t an exception. However, one should change, and he changes only in the case of a real good shake that would knock him out of his comfort zone. On that day of judgment, the beautiful world of metentises collapsed. Aah wanted to return what was lost. Who wouldn't? Probably for everyone what happened was a shock. If anyone foresaw the war, it certainly ain’t me. No one was ready for it. The buildings fell one after another, and aah looked at it as if it was the spittin’ image of the apocalypse, realizing that aah was powerless against nature. Paralyzed, scared. And the enemy was merciless and too strong. After some time, I was brought to my senses... saved." Matthew let out a weak laugh and continued. "Aah took the light into mah heart at Blake's altar. Then aah firmly decided: evil must be defeated, because evil makes our life worse, and good fixin’ to triumph, it always wins sooner or later, ain’t it? It sounds corny, but it is with such platitudes that we begin our journey. And now not a single hundred years has passed, and I have been fighting, destroying enemies who have become stronger and stronger, and aah with them. Our battles lasted so long that at some point aah lost mahself. Aah killed, aah ran forward, the spittin’ image of a dog running after a bone hanging in front of its nose. It seemed that the goal was about to be achieved. Only here ... defeating what ye consider evil, ye don't notice one important thing... how do ye become a "renewed evil"…"

Matthew fell silent. He felt the snow grains beating against his face, and the cold penetrated to the bones.

"What does it mean "Renewed evil"?" Homer asked, in the sounds of the creaking lantern in his hands.

Matthew gathered his thoughts, scratched his beard and answered:

"At the beginning, the metentises tried to change the world with good intentions, they understand the mistakes of the enemy and don't allow ‘em. But the more power they get, the more they understand their capabilities at the subconscious level. If they win, it'll mean only one thin’ – they have become a new, improved evil, driven by their own benefit. The circle has closed and everythin’ will start all over again."

"Aren't there people who win, guided by good intentions?"

Matthew fell silent. He took the cane, leaned on it, turned his back to them and looked at the virgin and untouched field; looked at the sky and continued:

"Those who sincerely follow the people and help them until their last breath are killed. The goal is too easy and naive. If ye help the weak, expect that they'll also kill ye, fearin’ yer strength, and the one who helps for selfish purposes, most often achieves what he wants, because he trusts no one and suspects everyone. Such is the paradox of life. Yes... After death, a hero who fought for pure ideals cain become an inspiration or even an idol for some, a monument will be erected to him or something else. A book, perhaps, will be written about his life. But he ain’t change anything else. The dead leave us only a memory and their hopes, which eventually turn to dust, and no sooner the followers choose a new path. The truth is this doesn't change the state of things. Such a privilege is given only to the living. Everythin’ remains as it was, just a little different…"

"Then how can we win without taking the path you call "evil"?" Homer continued to ask.

"To live somewhere on a farm far from civilization and die like a real good ordinary hard worker. Common people see things as they really are, and as soon as you go on the big stage, you ain’t notice how ye’ll rot like dead cattle torn by wolves..." Matthew sighed, his hands began to shake. "Lemme tell ye somethin’, when ye start fightin’ against the darkness, ye understand one very terrible thing. It is neigh impossible to defeat those who have no morals by the methods that you are guided by in the beginnin. It ain’t possible to win and not become like the enemy. Our opponent is immoral and this is his advantage. There is no place for virtue and understandin’ in war. It requires strength and cruelty. Do you want to defeat such an opponent? Become even more immoral than he is."

"That is, to become a "renewed evil"?"

"Aye, young’unes. Ye catch on the fly. So, it turns out that with each new victory ye plunge into the abyss. As if nature itself doesn't want the darkness to leave this world. Every new day is getting darker, soon there will be no light left at all… And we will disappear... too many mistakes, too many bad things we have done."

"What have you done?" Homer asked.

"A lot of things..." the old man groaned in such a voice, as if he was going to cry, he turned and looked at the field, and then turned back and said, "Murder…"

They looked at each other, and Guillotine asked:

"Isn't killing bad people, for example, the same Inquisition, for good?"

Matthew could not stand it and began to cry. Snowflakes fell from the sky to the ground, settling their microscopic and white pictures on his shoulders. The morning sun illuminated the cemetery with ultramarine rays breaking through the snow haze. The old man gasped for cold air, sighing sharply and trembling. The tooth did not fall on the tooth. Homer put down the lamp, took a few heavy steps forward, put his hand on his shoulder; Matthew turned around and looked him straight in the eyes, said: