“Is it not the truth that the demons have been eradicated?”, it would be very hard to describe the emotions behind this statement. The being that exuded this thought had had eons of life. It wouldn’t be possible to describe its thought in a manner comprehensible to humans.

“Not all of them,” remarked another.

“Matters not. Khozer Wrath is dead. So is the army of filth he prepared.”

One by one the giants sitting around the mountain-sized table remarked.

“Faiger Sloth, that pacifist, is the new demon lord. There is no place to land the seed.”

“What about the human? Is it not the truth that he alone destroyed the whole of the demon army?”

“Rupert Laazim is it? We have no record of him existing.”

“But exist he does. The elder spirits follow him. Azure, Luna, Trest, Phena; all four of them. Never has that happened before.”

“He must be stopped.”

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“Nonsense,” said one, putting an end to the debate. All the giants turned towards the one who spoke.

“Gods do not intervene in human matters. Gods need not intervene in human matters. What matters is the prayers. Baani Invictia stands testament to human defiance. Faiger Sloth aligns with Baani Invictia,” it stopped but there was no change in its posture or expressions.

“We must find a way to place the seed. Demons must invade Baani Invictia. Dethrone Faiger Sloth, complete the task that began with Harmonia,” it continued.

“Terror is the original source of prayers. Demons detest prayers – but Baani Invictia neither prays nor fears. The seed will not be enough,” another dared counter the one before.

“Then let the dust settle. Humans have little lives, let it pass. Rupert Laazim will die eventually.”

“It is the elder spirits that are the problem.”

“Perhaps we should destroy their planet?”

“We cannot. Mana cannot manifest into magic unless spirits move arcana.”

“Rupert Laazim knows how.”

“Rupert Laazim again,” said the giant who seemed to have the most authority, “Invite him to Indivna, let us talk.”

“You would speak to a human?” someone seemed surprised. An emotion rarely displayed in the palace of the gods.

“A human he is not, perhaps,” the giant replied.

“Interesting. Send one of the children.”

“Not an oracle?”

“Not to Rupert Laazim. Let us be benevolent. Humans are fragile, not everyone can withstand oracle.”

“What about the slave child?”

“She listens not. Such sad fate of children.”

“Grieve not, she was a child of a blasphemer. Blood carries with it its curses.”

“Then let her die.”

“Then it is decided.”

“It is decided.”