After some casual conversation...
Perhaps sensing that Orsaga truly wasn't taking the current crisis seriously, Petra decided to drop the subject out of trust, and instead shifted her focus to another matter:
"By the way, what's going on with Elsa lately? Why is she suddenly afraid of you?"
She had been too busy with global affairs to pay attention before, but now that she had the time, her curiosity returned.
Orsaga replied indifferently, "She saw something, and now she thinks I'm some kind of demon from hell~"
Petra sighed and rubbed her temples, clearly exasperated.
"So that's why she brought a whole group of priests from St. Paul's Cathedral the other day…"
She figured Elsa might be acting this way because her relationship with Orsaga had progressed too quickly, and Elsa was just overreacting.
As for being the target of an exorcism, Orsaga didn't seem to mind at all. He said calmly,
"It's no big deal."
To him, those so-called priests were just ordinary people—completely powerless.
With what little spiritual force they possessed, even if they recited the Bible in person, or dragged the giant cross from St. Paul's and planted it in front of him, Orsaga would still be able to laugh and chat without a care.
In other worlds, maybe God had some sway. But in this dimension?.
Clearly not.
Not that Orsaga would bother acknowledging Him even if He was real...
Now that Petra had confirmed it was just a minor disagreement between Orsaga and her daughter, she visibly relaxed.
"I was worried you did something to her…"
Orsaga shrugged innocently.
"…Come on, for your sake, what could I possibly do to her?"
And truly—he hadn't done a thing.
The whole situation had started when Elsa tried to dig up some dirt on him.
She'd snuck into one of his rituals, where he was performing a blood sacrifice using a batch of livestock and death row inmates.
And what she saw?
Definitely not good for the average person's mental health.
It traumatized her on the spot.
The very next day, she showed up with an entire platoon of priests for an exorcism.
Seeing how casual he was about the whole thing, Petra still looked slightly uneasy and reminded him:
"Just remember… Elsa is my daughter. Try to go easy on her, alright? And don't—you know—do anything inappropriate…"
Then, thinking twice, and knowing Orsaga's moral compass wasn't exactly conventional, she added firmly:
"At the very least, nothing forced."
Over the past few weeks, she'd come to understand that while Orsaga's worldview was a bit... warped, he still followed his own code.
Sometimes that made him hard to trust. Other times, it made him surprisingly reliable.
Orsaga scratched his ear and muttered offhandedly,
"Yeah, yeah, got it…"
---
Fourteen Days Later.
Mars Base – Solar System
Staring at the data on screen—signals transmitted from distant deep-space probes—the base commander's face grew solemn.
"Prepare all forces for combat," he ordered.
Back on Earth and the Moon, government leaders watched via delayed livestreams, tracking the situation in real time through secure channels.
Once everything was in position, the Mars commander didn't immediately order an attack.
Instead, he waited until the unidentified ship entered communication range—then began transmitting peaceful signals.
Electromagnetic pulses, visual patterns, specially modulated radiation...
He truly hoped for a peaceful solution.
Because to be honest, no one was confident they could win.
On Mars, Earth, and the Moon, the top brass of humanity stared anxiously at their screens.
Finally, the feedback channel blinked—the ship had responded.
As the signal stabilized, the video feed began to sharpen.
On screen appeared a human face—bloody, disfigured, mangled beyond recognition.
One look into the man's vacant, lifeless eyes, and everyone understood:
He was being controlled.
But nobody cared about that.
What mattered was that this meant communication was possible.
They braced themselves, expecting some sort of formal declaration—or at least an opening dialogue.
Instead, the puppet of a man spoke in a dry, raspy voice:
"Pathetic worms. You will all die."
And with that, the video feed abruptly cut out.
---
Earth, Moon, Mars:
"..."
The message was crystal clear.
The Mars commander didn't hesitate. The moment the failed negotiation ended, he barked out his next command:
"Open fire!"
In the next instant, countless missiles launched—like a storm of metal, trailing orange-red exhaust as they streaked toward the approaching flesh-and-bone warship.
Among them were the latest generation of interstellar-class warheads, as well as aging nuclear missiles pulled from deep storage.
Didn't matter if they were outdated.
If it had firepower, it got launched.
And the grotesque alien vessel did not back down.
Dozens of turret cannons, like multi-barrel miniguns, whirred to life—unleashing a torrent of high-speed shells.
Astonishingly, the ship's point-defense system proved faster and more accurate than the incoming missiles.
It intercepted each one, detonating them in mid-flight with terrifying precision.
The dark void of space lit up with fireballs—illuminating the blackness with bursts of orange and gold.
The first wave had failed.
The commander didn't flinch. As the warship kept swatting down missiles, he issued a follow-up command:
"Detonate all buried explosives!"
All around the enemy vessel, disguised mines camouflaged as drifting asteroids exploded in unison.
Massive fireballs and shockwaves engulfed the ship in an instant.
Simultaneously, from the Martian surface, several brilliant red beams shot into the sky.
The visual afterimage left behind was the trace of high-energy electromagnetic weapons.
Dozens of solid metal slugs—each weighing several tons—were launched at over a hundred times the speed of sound.
They tore through the residual explosions and shockwaves, slamming directly into the flesh ship's position.
The force of impact was so immense that the flames in space twisted and curled, forming wave-like shock ripples through the void.
Regardless of the outcome, the effect was undeniable.
Even ordinary civilians back on Earth, glancing at the night sky, could faintly make out a flicker of light in the stars.
---
Inside the Flesh Warship
The person who had just "spoken" to Earth's leaders…
A man possessed by a demon from the Warp.
He was also the team leader of the Purgators Squad.
Now, inside the command chamber, he was writhing in agony.
The Warp Demon was trying to invade his soul—searching for the truth about who and what he really was.
But something strange was resisting.
A force, solid and immovable, blocked the demon's probing like a stone wall.
Then came a rasping voice in his mind:
"You are strange. Your scent differs from the other creatures you call 'humans'. Your form may be the same, but your essence feels like another species entirely. I want answers…"
As a Greater Demon of the Warp, under the banner of the mighty Blood God—Khorne—.
Even in this region of space, where Warp energy was weak and diluted. Even without fully manifesting in the material world.
He was still overwhelmingly powerful compared to the mortals here.
And yet, something about these "humans"—or rather, this particular one—felt… wrong.
His instincts screamed at him.
If he could uncover the truth behind this anomaly, the mighty Blood God would surely reward him.
Originally, he had only appeared here because the Horizon had accidentally entered the Warp and bumped into him while he was wandering.
He'd planned to just swing by the material world for a bit of fun.
But now?
He felt motivated.
So motivated, in fact, that he was willing to suffer through this Warp-barren star system and endure the slow, painful journey.
To him, it was like going from smooth, high-speed 5G…
To being trapped on 2G.
His vast power was being throttled and weakened.
And now he was stuck as a high-ping warrior—even his reaction time was taking a hit.
After several more attempts…
The unidentified Warp Demon still couldn't extract the information he wanted from the Purgators squad leader's mind.
After some thought, he temporarily withdrew his power.
After all, of the dozen or so special targets he had captured, only this one remained alive.
Better to be cautious.
He then shifted his attention to the exterior of the flesh-and-bone warship.
Nuclear explosions? Electromagnetic cannons?
To him, these so-called "weapons" were nothing more than crude and primitive toys.
By galactic standards, they weren't even worth mentioning.
As the Demon's true body in the Warp continued channeling power into this reality, a towering figure soon began to manifest inside the warship.
Standing over five meters tall, his muscular frame was thick with layers of bulging sinew, exuding an overwhelming aura of raw power.
Clad in spiked brass armor, his skin was deep crimson, his head crowned with two massive horns. A pair of leathery wings—full of holes and resembling those of a bat—unfurled behind him.
In one hand, he held a massive double-headed axe. In the other, a flaming barbed whip.
Upon appearing, he threw back his head and let out a shrill, ear-splitting scream.
A wave of raw Warp energy erupted outward, spreading like wildfire.
The nuclear fireballs and shockwaves outside were extinguished instantly upon contact.
The electromagnetic cannon rounds—owing to their special materials—weren't disintegrated outright, and still carried immense kinetic force.
They crashed violently against the ship's Warp energy shield, sending out ripples of distortion.
As the flames dissipated…
The heart of the explosion was revealed once more.
And there it was—almost completely intact—the flesh warship.
Again, it appeared on everyone's screens.
The sight threw Earth, the Moon, and Mars into a heavy silence.
Unspoken despair gripped the hearts of every military leader and strategist.
They'd thrown everything they had at it—and couldn't even scratch the shield.
---
A moment later, the warship—which had remained in a defensive posture until now—launched its counterattack.
Dozens of turrets erupted in a storm of cannon fire, unleashing a relentless barrage at the Mars base.
Every second, hundreds of shells were fired.
Though the base commander tried to mount a defense, it was pointless.
Their rate of fire and projectile speed couldn't match the incoming barrage.
Within seconds, their defensive line was breached.
The warship's projectiles—flesh-and-bone shells imbued with corrosive Warp energy—fell like a rainstorm on the Mars base.
Their explosive power was less than traditional munitions, but their destructive effect was horrifying.
Anything hit by them, no matter the material, would be reduced to pitted, corroded ruin.
And any living being? Even a single splash would turn them into a screaming human torch.
After several minutes of sustained bombardment…
Amid the guttural laughter of the Warp Demon echoing from inside the ship, the entire Mars base—spanning an area larger than a hundred football fields—was annihilated.
Over 100,000 soldiers were vaporized.
All that remained was a cratered wasteland of pockmarked scars.
---
Earth.
News of the total annihilation of the Mars base quickly reached Earth's control center.
The war room fell into stunned silence.
After a long pause, a middle-aged man finally asked,
"…What now?"
An elderly official responded calmly,
"We proceed as planned."
The man frowned.
"But our weapons don't work. Even if the Moon's forces outnumbered Mars ten to one, it'd still be pointless resistance."
If the weapons couldn't penetrate the shield, numbers meant nothing.
The old man simply shook his head, face steady:
"So what? It's all we can do."
"Either we fight… or we wait to die."
"…If you truly think it's hopeless, you're free to go home and spend your final moments with your family."
"The enemy still needs time to reach the Moon's defense line. This might be the last peace we get."
"…"
---
Later that afternoon.
In the villa…
Petra casually cut a slice of steak and, as was her habit, turned on the TV.
The next moment, her fork froze mid-air.
On the screen, the BBC was live broadcasting the Queen's abdication—passing the crown to Prince William.
"??"
"What the hell is this??"
"Why is she abdicating all of a sudden?!"
"I can't believe I lived to see this moment!!"
"There wasn't even a hint this was coming—it's way too sudden!!"
The real world and the internet exploded in unison across the UK.
And as the camera showed Prince William—now elderly and silver-haired—placing the crown upon his head, tears streaming down his face, viewers across the nation were moved to tears.
Many thought back to his father—
The late Prince Charles, posthumously crowned King at his own funeral.
Truly moving! Deeply emotional!
In fact…
That teary coronation scene would go on to rank second on the list of Britain's Most Touching 21st Century Moments.
---
Well, that aside...
Back in the villa—
Seeing the scene on TV, Elsa, who had been sitting far away from Orsaga out of caution, was shocked.
"Whoa~~ The coronation!"
"Mom, didn't you meet with the Queen just a few days ago?"
"Did she really not say anything?"
Petra, just as confused, frowned.
"I have no idea. This really came out of nowhere…"
Given her title as a hereditary countess, she should have been invited to attend in person.
But not a single invitation arrived.
By the standards of the royal family's usual strict adherence to protocol, this was almost unthinkable.
Seeing both women visibly confused, Orsaga spoke up calmly:
"They probably just didn't think they had enough time left. So they wanted to fulfill the prince's dream before it was too late."
Elsa furrowed her brow.
"What do you mean?"
"Exactly what I said," Orsaga replied.
"Dying wish: to play king before the end."
Based on the information he'd gathered, it wasn't hard to guess their motive.
After waiting decades, the man at least wanted to sit on the throne—if only for a moment.
Traditions and rituals meant nothing now.
Elsa pouted.
"Why do you talk like someone's about to die…"
Orsaga replied, honest as ever:
"Because, realistically… there's a good chance they are. Earth might not have much time left."
"…What?"
Both Petra and Elsa looked stunned—unsure if they'd heard him right.
But to Orsaga?
Whether Earth survived or not—it made little difference.
If it came to that, he'd just find another habitable planet out in the stars.
The only two people he'd make sure to protect were Petra and Elsa.
As for the rest?
He didn't really care.
What do you mean by 'Earth might not have much time left'?"
Compared to Petra—who couldn't fully grasp what Orsaga meant—Elsa, having once witnessed one of Orsaga's blood rituals, felt an ominous chill rising in her heart.
As he stirred the mushroom cream pasta in front of him, Orsaga said plainly,
"An alien warship is currently heading toward Earth. The Mars base was destroyed yesterday."
Then he casually twirled a bite of pasta and popped it into his mouth.
He nodded in satisfaction.
No doubt about it—Petra's cooking was excellent.
Seeing his leisurely demeanor, and thinking about the grim news, Petra's face turned pale as she asked,
"…Are you serious?"
Orsaga nodded.
"I don't like lying."
Then, seeing her expression worsening, he added offhandedly,
"You two don't need to worry. You'll be fine."
Elsa, looking unsettled, asked in a trembling voice:
"You're not… taking us to hell, are you?"
Given that she believed Orsaga was some kind of demon straight out of the underworld, her fear wasn't exactly surprising.
"No," Orsaga replied calmly. "That place doesn't really suit me."
From what he knew, while there was something resembling "hell" in the Abyss, it was just a niche subregion controlled by a minor demon faction. It consisted of nine adjacent layers, forming a closed system.
Similar organizations did exist among demons—several of them, in fact.
For example, human-born demon lords tended to gather with other human-born lords. Elf-born ones grouped with other elves...
Even though their origins might be completely different—some evolved from monkeys, others molded from mud—they would still seek out others similar to themselves.
Apart from sharing a label like "human" or "elf," they often had nothing in common.
But even so, there was a certain shared identity they found comfort in.
Among the native-born Abyssal demons, however, this behavior was often mocked.
To them, such alliances were nothing more than weaklings huddling for warmth.
True power, they believed, required no allies.
The strong demon lords would simply beat their rivals to death, seize control of their Abyss layers, and merge them into their own territory.
After all, if you could kill your allies and take everything they owned, why would you cooperate?
That was the dominant philosophy of the Abyssal demons.
And it was through this relentless cycle of war, betrayal, and conquest that they remained the most battle-hardened beings of their rank.
Relying on overwhelming numbers, they made up more than 90% of all [Demon Lords] and [Demon Princes], dominating the entire Abyss as its most powerful species.
---
After denying that he was from "hell," Elsa shifted her thinking.
"Then… are you an alien?"
"Not quite," Orsaga said with a shake of his head.
"In my understanding, 'alien' refers to beings native to this universe—but from other planets or regions."
"I don't belong to this universe at all."
"I'm what you'd call an outsider from another world.
Does that make sense?"
Elsa's eyes widened.
Listening to the two of them speak, Petra felt like her mental state was a canoe adrift in stormy seas—rocking wildly with every sentence.
Her boyfriend suddenly telling her he was from another world?
That was… well beyond anything she had imagined.
---
The Next Day
At the heavily fortified lunar base…
The alien flesh warship approached openly—making no attempt to hide its advance.
Once it entered range, the human forces launched their full-scale assault without hesitation.
Due to the logistical ease of transporting resources to the Moon, the lunar military was over ten times stronger than the Mars base.
In just one second, tens of thousands of missiles rose from their silos. Artillery and railguns roared.
A blinding cascade of explosions lit up space—so intense it rivaled the sun's brilliance.
Even civilians on Earth noticed the sky glowing brighter.
This was the might of human civilization—the full force of its most powerful weapons.
But when the explosions faded…
And the flames slowly cleared…
The flesh warship remained, completely unscathed, at the center of the blast.
Despair swept through the human command.
The technological gap was simply too wide.
Inside the warship, the Warp Demon felt the wave of hopelessness from the enemy and broke into crazed laughter, preparing to counterattack and annihilate them.
Just then—
A powerful energy fluctuation surged in from the nearby blue planet.
Sensing the intensity of this force, the demon's expression instantly shifted.
"What?! There's a Psyker on this world that strong?!"
He could feel it clearly: this opponent's power was on par with his true body—far beyond what his current projection could handle.
In the next instant, his connection to his true form in the Warp was violently severed.
His projection, cut off like a lagging game character disconnected from the server, immediately began to destabilize and collapse.
"Damn it...!"
---
On the Moon, the soldiers—who moments ago had been resigned to death—watched in stunned silence as the horrific warship, seemingly invincible, suddenly began to crumple in on itself.
Like a tin can crushed by an unseen hand, it folded in seconds into a lump of mangled flesh—
Then violently exploded into countless fragments.
"?"
"What just happened?. Did… our weapons actually work?!"
The lunar commander couldn't believe it.
Since when did their missiles have the ability to flatten an enemy into a meatball?
---
Earth – United Kingdom – Villa Garden
After channeling a bit of power, Orsaga managed to borrow a fraction of his true body's vision.
Through it, he had clearly seen the alien warship near the Moon—and the strange lifeform inside it.
'Looks a bit like an Abyssal demon... but it doesn't carry the scent of an outsider. Native to this plane? A demon subspecies? Or something else entirely?'
What intrigued him even more was that the creature, like him, was operating in a projection state—only a fragment of its real form.
Whereas Orsaga's true body was lurking in the Abyss, this being's real form was hiding in a subspace pocket within this universe.
Following the trail of its energy signature, Orsaga quickly located that hidden dimension.
Even without close inspection, the moment he touched it—
He felt an overwhelming surge of negative emotion.
As if the entire universe's malice, fear, and despair had pooled into that one place.
He lit up in delight.
'This world actually has such a prime spot of spiritual energy?'
But before he could dig deeper, the projection he was using to trace the signal suddenly withered and died—its consciousness forcibly ejected back into the subspace where the demon's true form resided.
Moments later, the hundred-meter-long warship began to collapse.
Orsaga frowned slightly at the sight.
Then, with a casual gesture, he reached out from Earth—
And plucked the barely alive Purgators squad leader from the remains of the ship.
Based on earlier data he'd reviewed, Orsaga identified the man as one of the rescue crew from the Lewis and Clark expedition.
At first glance, nothing seemed unusual about him.
But standing face to face, Orsaga could feel something strange.
A trait that set the man apart—perhaps the very reason the demon had kept him alive.
After examining him briefly, Orsaga—with his vast experience—pinpointed the anomaly.
Then crushed the man to death without hesitation.
He removed the device from his wrist.
Then turned around—his gaze locking on the figure standing quietly behind him.
A tall man, around two meters in height, with long black hair and a muscular build.
His face looked as though it had been sculpted in ancient Greece—sharp and godlike.
Though he appeared to be in his thirties, and exuded a pure human aura, Orsaga could sense the presence of an immortal—an ancient being with centuries, perhaps millennia, behind him.
In fact, it was quite possible that this man was even older than Orsaga himself.
More importantly, Orsaga could sense the immense power hidden within him—vast and unfathomable, like a still, deep sea.
Slightly weaker than Orsaga's true form, perhaps…
But stronger than nearly every Greater-Ranking Demon he'd ever encountered.
A being capable of casually destroying planets.
This was the one who had crushed the alien demon from across the void between Earth and Moon—shattering its connection and cutting short Orsaga's exploration.
Now, under the man's calm, piercing, and clearly hostile gaze, a red light flickered in Orsaga's eyes.
He raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised.
"…I didn't expect a being like you to exist on this planet."
It felt like discovering a whale hiding in a shallow backyard pond.
Completely inexplicable—given this world's environment, how could someone like this possibly be born here?
In response to Orsaga's words...
The man remained expressionless.
But his eyes were sharp—locked onto Orsaga with visible wariness.
To him, the threat Orsaga posed far exceeded that of the Warp demon who had hovered above the Moon.
Though Orsaga appeared human, his psychic senses told a very different story.
Through the flesh, he could sense a massive being—winged and watching—looming behind that body. A towering entity with eight wings, staring at him from beyond the veil.
It was a lifeform unlike anything he had ever encountered before.
The overwhelming aura of chaos it exuded left him deeply unsettled. Even from that faint presence alone, he could hear the wails of countless dead.
And that only reinforced the certainty in his mind:
'This being cannot be allowed to remain on Earth.'
Eventually, after a long silent standoff between the two...
The man finally spoke:
"Leave this planet."
Orsaga let out a disdainful chuckle, casually replying,
"And why would I do that?"
He didn't believe the man had the strength to force him.
As the stranger began to summon his power, clearly preparing for confrontation, Orsaga tilted his head, still unbothered.
"You sure you want to fight me here?"
With their level of power, if a fight broke out on Earth, the country beneath their feet wouldn't just be destroyed—it would cease to exist.
The man didn't answer, but the pressure from his rising power continued to build, aimed squarely at Orsaga.
Orsaga remained calm, watching him with a hint of amusement.
A few seconds later...
Just as the man's power peaked, it suddenly began to withdraw—rapidly settling back into stillness.
"I'll be watching you," the man said coldly.
"If you do anything to endanger humanity… I'll do whatever it takes to eliminate you."
With that, he turned to leave.
For thousands of years, he had quietly guided humanity, trying to keep them on the right path.
But now, even after all that effort, mankind was still too immature—still far too weak to resist a real threat.
So, faced with Orsaga…
Even his threats had fallen short.
Because if they truly fought here, neither of them might die—but humanity? Humanity would be obliterated.
As the man turned away, ready to vanish into the shadows once more, Orsaga spoke up:
"Interested in signing a contract?"
Without turning back, the man immediately replied,
"Not interested."
He didn't know what kind of contract Orsaga meant, but it was obvious the offer wasn't made with good intentions.
Orsaga ignored the rejection and continued speaking anyway:
"No need to dismiss it so quickly. I can feel it—you care deeply about the human race. And I can tell you despise that place filled with negative emotions… that dimension you call the Warp—and the creatures within it. So, why not at least hear my proposal? Who knows… you might find it interesting."
The man's footsteps paused ever so slightly.
Neolithic Earth.
Human society was still in its infancy.
Tribal communities were scattered across the globe, and each was led by a shaman.
These shamans held their positions not because of brute force, but because they could commune with the world beyond—the place known as the Spirit Realm, or more precisely, the Warp.
By channeling its energies, shamans could heal, foresee the future, and aid their tribes in surviving the harsh, primal world.
Some even attained eternal life.
Upon physical death, they could reincarnate their souls through the Warp and continue serving their people.
Through this cycle, they accumulated experience over lifetimes, becoming wiser and stronger with each rebirth—guiding humanity forward in leaps and bounds.
It was because of them that humanity rose so rapidly to dominate Earth's food chain.
But the golden age didn't last.
As time passed, that once-pure dimension—the Warp—began to change.
Corrupted by unknown forces, its energies grew twisted.
Malevolent entities—Warp Demons—began to emerge from the darkness.
Cruel, savage, and sadistic, these demons roamed the Warp, consuming souls and spreading destruction.
With their rise, the shamans lost the ability to reincarnate.
If their bodies died now, their souls were devoured.
And worse—these demons, once confined to the Warp, began to influence the material world.
Which meant it wasn't just shamans at risk. Eventually, all of humanity would fall under threat.
Faced with this crisis, the shamans refused to sit idly by.
After long deliberation, thousands of Earth's shamans came to a grim consensus:
Their deaths would be final. Their souls, fuel for the demons.
And without them, humanity would inevitably follow—drawn into oblivion by the rising tide of the Warp.
So they made a final, desperate decision:
To die—together—and fuse their souls into one.
They collectively took a sacred poison, allowing their souls to merge through a ritual in the Warp. Their combined spiritual might would forge a new, singular entity—one greater than all of them.
A being born not of one life, but of thousands.
A new kind of human—one strong enough to stand against the demons and lead humanity forward.
The following year, around 8000 BCE, a child was born in a pastoral family in the region of Anatolia.
From the moment of birth, he was beyond extraordinary.
His power eclipsed that of any shaman before him.
Though initially unable to control it, his raw potential was so immense that it rewrote his very biology—granting him true immortality without the need for reincarnation.
As he grew older, his strength increased exponentially, and he began pondering the question left to him by the shamans:
"How can humanity survive against threats like the Warp?"
It was a question as daunting as asking how ants might fight dragons.
His first real awakening came when his uncle murdered his father over greed.
In that moment, he realized that humanity's greatest threat wasn't just external…
But internal.
So, to understand and protect them, he left Anatolia and wandered the world—living under many names and disguises, observing humanity's growth and failures.
Armed with knowledge passed down from countless shamanic reincarnations, he worked quietly behind the scenes, subtly guiding progress.
Many of history's inventors, prophets, and great thinkers?
Were simply him in different forms.
But as time marched on, the situation only grew more dire.
No matter how often he tried to steer humanity toward peace and unity, their own nature—violence, ambition, destruction—kept dragging them back into chaos.
And as the global volume of negative emotion rose, he could feel the Warp nearby growing stronger—its energy becoming increasingly active.
If things continued down this path, there would come a day when that malicious realm would fully awaken and unleash its full wrath upon humanity.
That was something he could not accept.
Which was why—
He decided, for the first time in centuries,
To listen to Orsaga's proposal.