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Or maybe he was created by a future intelligence and sent back in time! In order to help bring that same intelligence to life! A future god that brings about its own creation!

Because what better definition of a god would there be than something that creates itself? A paradox, sure, but what was a paradox to a god?

That was his funnest theory, anyway. If it somehow turned out to be true, he'd be absolutely ecstatic. It wasn't impossible. But how many more centuries would he need in order to create a true god with his machines, he wondered?

Eheh. Maybe not even one, if this whole god-hunting business panned out the way he hoped.

But that was unlikely, he knew. Big things like that rarely ever went according to hopes or plans. That was no reason to get demoralized, though. No matter what happened, Morgunov was certain that he would be having a grand ol' time in the process.

Which was another thing that nobody seemed to understand.

It was about the journey, not the destination. Until you got to the destination. Then it was very much about the destination, at which point disappointment was practically inevitable. But that just made the journey even more important!

But yeah, these tattoos were a real toughie. He'd been trying various other strategies like aura and willpower to compel the soul into a more malleable state, but the tattoos were simply too strong.

He really would have to invent something new for this, Morgunov realized. Something that required the Clown Pit.

Meh. He supposed it was for the best. This makeshift workshop that he'd taken from the Sandlords was charming in its own way, but it wasn't the most conducive to his needs. And he was having to keep Qorvass at a separate location, since he might've been compromised during the time that Morgunov had lost track of him.