A being sat on a massive throne, one fit for a god, of which he was.
The god rested his head on his fist, his other arm slowly opening and closing.
He surveyed the empty room and began to reflect on the events that had led him to this moment of power and this life.
All the death, the gruesome events, the loss—all of it had brought him here, to this moment of becoming a god.
Slowly, he rose and began to walk around the empty hall where his throne stood. His mind wandered to the people he had lost, the people he had loved, all of whom had been taken from him.
All in the pursuit of power.
All the sins he had committed could fill the world tenfold, yet this was what he had committed to, this was his goal.
Was he happy with this? Did he enjoy doing all of it? If he could, would he do it all again?
The answer wasn't clear to him, at least not yet.
Power was what this world was; power was the ultimate goal; power was what was needed to survive. And now he had more than any of his followers.
Yet this wasn't what he wanted. He had never wanted this power, never wanted to be a god of a terrible, disgusting race like the demons, of which he had been.
Staring from the window above the sprawling city, he began to wonder why he had ever wanted power. He had been happy before, he had loved before, yet he had thought it all away. If only he had never taken that first step, if only he had never formed that crystal, if only he had never killed that man.
He would still be in her arms.
Would he be?
If it hadn't been him, someone else would have surely taken her away. At least this way, he knew that she had been a worthy sacrifice, that her death wasn't pointless.
The god left the hall and began walking through the corridors of his castle, his mind still racing with thoughts.
Had I ever stopped to think about why I needed this, should I have? Was mortality so bad that I felt compelled to commit every sin, just in the hopes of achieving my goal? Should I have? Should I have continued down this path even while I felt parts being removed or even as if they no longer existed? The damned horns on my head, the disgusting stained skin covered in crimson, the terrible stench of blood—do I still crave more, more blood, more death, more power? Had I never formed that core, I wouldn't have this feeling of regret, or perhaps it's just longing…
As the god thought, a pride demon bowed as it passed and spoke in a disturbing voice.
"Praise be, Sameal."
As Sameal's name left the creature's mouth, its head detached from its neck. The pridedemon had committed no sin unto Sameal, yet Sameal still felt anger merely hearing the creature speak to him.
Slowly, Sameal approached a door leading to a small balcony. He hesitated for a moment before opening the door and observing his city. He continued to contemplate his life and wondered if all he had done had been worth it.
He remembered when he had first formed a crystal. His excitement had been immense. Then, when he had first moved up a class, he had become egotistical and a bit mad. He recalled the feeling of accomplishment he had felt when he had first killed an entire clan and feasted on their remains. He remembered the slaughter of a whole city before he had ascended into the sixth layer.
As his thoughts came and went, a small smile had landed on his face, revealing his sharp fangs. The wind blew at him, throwing his long white hair into the air.
Back when he had been human, this hair had been brown.
Running his fingers through the hair, he felt the dead ends slowly regrowing, forcing his face into a snarl.
He removed his hand and moved it back to the railing.
A small cape billowed as he observed the setting moon, which was blue as it had been on his original layer.
"Memories can be quite cumbersome, I suppose."
The gods liked moving, leaving behind words within a voice that seemed impossibly perfect. Even without saying anything important, it seemed as if he had said something that could have changed lives.
Growing bored of his balcony, he turned and started back into his keep.
Walking through the corridor again, his mind was once again a flurry of questions. Suddenly, he felt a sense of relief as someone was in danger.
This would allow him to do something or take his mind off himself.
Without a sound, Sameal disappeared from the corridor and almost instantly reappeared holding ten heads of a wrath demon. A small look of disappointment was written on Ken's face.
Truthfully, he had hoped it was Him, but it had only been in fighting, as it always had been.
Sameal held the head up, and it suddenly exploded. However, the blood and other fragments of the head seemed contained within a small, perfectly clear bubble. Slowly, the bubble shrank, and then Sameal opened his mouth and ate the bubble. He grimaced as he chewed.
"Demons truly are the worst."
As he reached his great hall, Sameal opened the door and walked in. Finally, he felt as if he had answered a question he had posed himself for many years.
Had it all been worth it?
Sameal made his way to the throne and sat down, placing his fist on the side of his head.
Had it all been worth it?
Sameal looked at the glass windows around the great hall, all depicting his life.
Had it all been worth it?
Sighing, Sameal finally opened his mouth and, with his perfect voice, a single word left it. The word felt as if it had been more than just spoken; it felt as if he had simply uttered it, and it had changed the world.
Had it all been worth it?
"No."