- When Summoned
- Do not bore me if you wish to live.
- When Shapeshifted Into or Collection Portrait
- Begone, filth!
- Using A Skill or Collection Portrait
- Do make this fun for me!
- When Entering Dragon's Roost
- Yes? What is it?
- Are you here to amuse me?
- If you bore me, I'll kill you. Now, what will you do?
- After Receiving a Gift
- Take that and begone.
- This makes you happy? How simpleminded...
- After Bond Level Increase
- I thought you naught but trash, but may have to raise my estimation of you in the future.
- You must be infatuated to flatter me so.
- Idle After Bond Level 1
- Ohh it excites me to see those who preen with arrogance at their own strength gripped by despair.
- This world is so boring it nauseates. I must make it more interesting!
- There are joys in both killing quickly and toying with slowly. Which way do you prefer to die?
- Idle After Bond Level 10
- You are no match for Atlas.
- It's most enjoyable to torment Prometheus. His ire rises so very quickly!
- Epimetheus? A feckless wastrel.
- Idle After Bond Level 20
- You are but my plaything, so work hard lest I tire of you.
- I shall tell you a little secret: When you have garbage, it's best to discard it with all haste.
- Do not play at being good. Rather, abandon yourself to pleasure.
- When Unbound
- As if THIS could be enough to satisfy me!
- When Fully Unbound
- Power fills me to the core! Now, how shall I make you wield?
Strength is everything in this world.
I know because my brother Atlas taught me so.
Overwhelming power: the sort of might that
brooks no resistance. That allows no counter.
He ground me underfoot with casual ease.
I understood in that moment, without a word
from him, that this world belongs to the strong.
In time, I cultivated enough strength to
subjugate my own prey, bringing a new
emotion surging to the surface.
The sight of a weakling prostrated before me.
Of a face twisted in terror. The spray of blood,
the snapping of bones. In an instant, I was
If I grew stronger still, would I find greater
pleasure? What ecstasies await those who
master the pursuit of overwhelming might?
I needed the answer, and so I sought it.
Sought power. Sought pleasure.
A quickened pulse. A rush of blood.
The thrill of breaking the strong and branding
them weak. I set my sights higher and higher.
But it wasn't enough.
This world holds far too many weaklings.
They fail to entertain me!
At some point, those worthless humanoids
decided to slay me, reaching across the bounds
of their pathetic kingdoms to rally together.
It was some futile attempt at revenge for the
dragons that once guarded their sad territories.
What fault is it of mine if the dragons who
faced me weren't up to the challenge? And
now the insects cowering in their shadows
think to band together and strike me down?
An amusing thought...and one I welcome,
given my perpetual ennui. Let them be my
playthings, then. I could simply wipe them
out, but then how would they learn just how
weak and foolish they are?
Truly, man is a pitiable animal. They think that
having friends makes them strong? Laughable.
They eagerly turn on their erstwhile friends the
moment I offer them mercy for their betrayal.
How easily they kill their own.
This is to say nothing of the grand wars they
wage against one another, turning the land
into a sea of fire and blood. Once, I even found
the spectacle amusing, trite as it was.
But now, there is no mountain of bodies high
enough to fill the void in me. I grew strong.
Attained true power! So why is it not enough?
Does no new frontier lie past power's peak?
Is there truly nothing left for me in this world?
Nothing in this life thrills me more than
crushing my foes with sheer force alone.
If I could master power—push strength to its
extreme—a new world of pleasure must await.
Or so I once believed.
But now, with a hundred dragons slain, a
thousand kingdoms razed, and the corpses
of ten thousand slaughtered men behind me,
I find no satisfaction.
Do I still lack strength?
Do I need yet more to find fulfillment?
Oh... The answer was so simple all along.
Not enough? Kill. Not enough? Raze.
Not enough? Crush. Not enough? Devour.
Not enough? Rob. Not enough? Beat.
More. More. More. More. More. More!
And then one day...
I found I'd become an empty husk.
I understood it well then.
Nothing lies past power's peak.
No matter how many lives I ended,
I would feel nothing.
It all stopped mattering. This world is a cage
for the strong. A mind-numbingly boring prison.
An empty hell. We live and die as dogs on a
I wonder how this world looks to him...
To he who crushed me all those years ago:
With that final question, that final doubt in my
mind, I stopped thinking and closed my eyes.
Who can say how much time passed.
It was his voice that woke me, in the end.
"Wake, Menoetius. What could break a brother
of mine and leave him lying vacant?"
Ugh... Shut up, will you? What good will rising
do? If the waking world offers only the despair
of unending boredom, I'd sooner just die here.
"Then the one who sought strength above all
else—who refused to bow to any might but his
own—will bow now before nothingness?"
Who said anything about bowing down?
I am the subjugator, not the quarry.
I'm offended you'd even suggest such a thing.
At that, I fluttered my heavy eyelids and
stretched my long-stiff wings. The one who
woke me was nowhere to be seen. Before me
lay nothing but the boring, tepid world I'd left.
Oh... The answer was so simple all along.
If nothing lies past power's peak, I'll use my
strength to make something. Something great.
In this world, might makes right.
Therefore, I shall use might to change the
world itself...into one that entertains me.