HOLY
Religion is something that is supposed to provide hope for those who need it, and to bring smiles to the people who are broken. But for sixteen year-old Edward Elric, that was just a load of crap, a bedtime story your parents told you at night. He refused to believe in a higher being that was supposed to make everything better when things seemed hard. He had stopped believing years ago, when his mother died.
The peoples' God was supposed to take care of the people of the earth, and allow for happiness, and conquer all evil. So then, why was it that the so very esteemed God took his mother away? What did she ever do to deserve it? She'd been a wonderful woman, kind and loving, and she never spoke a harsh word to her sons. She even endured all those years after their father, her husband, had left them, always with a smile upon her face. She was the perfect woman. No matter what, she remained faithful to her duties as a wife and a mother. In the eyes of religious followers, she should have been secured a long, happy life.
That didn't last long. Her sickness was a sign that all that religious bull was just that. The peoples' God took Edward's mother away from him! Away from Alphonse! How could someone who was supposed to be so kind do such a horrible thing, and then not make it right in any way? The truth was, there was no God, and if there was, He was nothing like the people esteemed Him to be.
Constantly during their journey, Edward and Alphonse came upon many people who called to their God for help, to make things better, and that prayer was never answered. If anything, things were made worse. So, Edward asked himself, what good was it to pray to a being that did nothing for the people but sit back in his chair in contempt and watch the pathetic humans go about their own destruction? The thought of people going on religious crusades or doing something in the name of their God made him ill; they were just throwing their lives away for nothing!
As a result, Edward's God was himself. He knew that only he could make things happen, or make thing better. And if things got worse, then he could only blame himself. His religious scriptures were in the form of Alchemy books, and transmutation circles became his icons. He refused to let anyone, especially some being he could not even see, control his life.
He often heard that people who didn't believe in God and didn't serve Him went to Hell when they died. He chuckled at the thought. Fine! Let him burn for eternity! At least, with his Alchemy, he'd have spent a meaningful life helping people, instead of spending in servitude of someone who rewarded him with nothing other than pain.
He was also told that sinners went to Hell if they did not beg for forgiveness. With this, he was fine, as he felt that he could not be forgiven for his sins. However, he was not satisfied with just sitting back and watching while his brother suffered as a soulless suit of armour. And, while his sins could not be forgiven, he worked hard to make things right, because he couldn't bear to see Al like that day after day, without feeling a stabbing pain in his heart.
And so he lived, day by day, trying to right his wrongs, and doing everything according to his own doctrines, not that of the peoples'. Let them have their God. He had his Alchemy, and his brother, and to him, that was all that was holy.