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"If you find that concerning," said Rasalased, "then you should be mindful of precisely what kind of man you are becoming."

Hector mulled that point over. "...You think I'm turning into a bad person?"

"Heh. Not at all, Young Hector. However, I think a man who never questions himself in these ways is not a man who should be trusted to determine right from wrong."

It sounded a bit like a lecture was coming his way, but Hector couldn't help pausing at the Dry God's words. This struck a chord with what Garovel had been talking about not too long ago, worrying about how much he had changed in a relatively short amount of time.

As much as a part of him wanted to dismiss Rasalased's concerns here, Hector felt like he should be careful. This was the wisdom of literal ancients that he was listening to. Just because it made him uncomfortable or because he didn't want to believe it could be true--that wasn't good enough reason to reject it without first giving it real consideration.

"Your power and influence are growing, Young Hector. This much is clear. And as a result, your role in events to come shall similarly change. Despite your age, you are fast approaching a point at which many older servants begin to struggle with the nature of their existence. The sweet allure of countless ideas and philosophies--born from your own mind and others--will eventually find you and try to win your favor. Some may even succeed, to the betterment of all.

"But if you are unable to pick and choose well, to hold true, then the suffering of one shall inevitably become the suffering of many. Your misery shall spread through the world like a plague, until eventually, if you are lucky, some kind soul finally grants you the heroic mercy of ending your monstrous life."

Holy fuck.