This world was not created by gods. No one in the upper worlds would ever create a place so riddled with hatred and suffering. All the other auras of emotions and strength were mixed. Here – a fragment of a shadow from the abyss, and there – a flicker of a crystal of the purest celestial sky… This world was weaved from the fragments of other worlds, like the nest of a huge bird. Or… a dragon. This world reeked with dragon blood. But where, then, is the creator himself? And how powerful must he be to create such a grand home for himself?
Baustek stretched out with his mind-form towards the heart of the world, but it burnt him with its fiery breath. This world did not welcome guests from the Abyss.
Demons. The mortals of this world called them demons. Baustek liked the word. Full of fear, contempt, and at the same time… veneration. Such a wide range of emotions of the lower creatures intertwined in a single word.
This world was most certainly worth conquering, turning it into a place of feasting.
There were many mortal creatures here. Pathetic, short-lived creatures ready to condemn their own home to destruction for a petty reward. For mere fragments of the power of the Abyss.
Why should they know the true motivations of their masters? Let them wage war with each other, let them feel as if they were rulers, masters of the game. When the time comes, all that was gifted to them can be taken back with ease. To enjoy the scene of sheer terror when the mortals realise what their hunger for power has led to.