Hope? or Despair (Finale)

Enigmatic clapping was like that of the wingbeats of a thousand songbirds. Olympius--the capital city...if not the beating heart of Elysium itself. the processions of peasants just beyond the city's walls, danced and sang. their voices coagulating into a haunting trisagion for a supposed savior. the rolling emerald hills of grass, and clovers were stained red--endless strings of corpses, farmer and Burn littered the ground. even as the blood poured down into their farms--the people still sang, continued to dance. there were a small few who cried, raising their hands to the sky. 
it was a slow start, getting adjusted to the absolute absurdity didn't exactly help either, yet--Waltz began to walk. slowly at first, and then much quicker. a certain "feeling" boiled deep inside of him. his chest tightened, his eyes blurred and his heart raced. without warning he took off, racing down the fields--passing by every single corpse as they appeared. The singing voices became like the cawing of irreverent crows, their voices pierced his mind like an endless volley of arrows. the gate to the city, he knew it all too well--busted off its hinges and destroyed. left to ruin, broken, and rusted. 
Fire erupted from the city. catching his notice, as he looked on a horrified expression burned itself into his face.  a demonic, horrifying black fire had colonized the city.  He took off again, through the gate, up the chiseled flight of stairs. Ruin had overtaken the city as well, swept in like a thief in the night and left a macabre "painting" in its wake. 
Blood, discarded and destroyed armor, the bodies of all the city's watchmen lumped together in some sort of pyre. yet there was no fire where they lay. the voices of the lower class--as was with the farmers...broke into the air. a song of jubilation their hands raised towards the sky in exaltation. 
their hands rose, pointing at where the royal court was. Waltz lifted his face, the many steps through up to the upper echelon, and there it was, the royal courthouse burning. he tried to move but it felt as though his body was heavier than lead, each step a labor. small, almost rhythmic steps resounded from the court stairs.  without thinking, without processing. 
His rifle--the Ichimonji Type 45 was raised, pointed at whoever the hell dared to waltz down the stairs. 
"DON'T MOVE!" Waltz shouted. yet there was no reply, only the small pattering of steps down the stairs--the sounds of dribbles of blood crashing against the stone. a well dressed man had appeared, stepping down, into Waltz' vision. swaying here and there--left to right. his eyes bulged out of his head and his mouth curved itself into a horrifying crescent grin. mysteriously the man was covered head to toe in blood. weather it was his, or someone else's the thought wasn't exactly comforting for the soldier. 
 "DON'T MOVE!!!" Waltz screamed. yet the man didn't seem to mind, let alone care--continuing on his way as if it was all but a normal evening. 
"wonderful weather isn't it?" the well dressed man asked. his head slowly rose. his focus trained itself solely on Waltz. "Ah a soldier boy--one of the guards I take it"
"N...No! But! don't move!!!!" 
"hmm? not a guard--" the man's voice trailed off into a long sigh as he lost himself in thought. he shook his head and continued. "your affiliation in this world doesn't matter" his grin seemed to become even wider. "God doesn't care about such things--neither do I"  
"God? the hell are you talking about?" Waltz backed up, keeping his rifle trained on the man. 
"Hope? or Despair?" the man asked as if his question was a suitable answer to the previous question.