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In silence, Ettol waited. No further thoughts ran through his mind. No planning was necessary. He already knew everything he needed to know. And dwelling on it further would only give more openings to Jonah, who had obviously become a greater threat than Ettol thought.

So he simply sat there. Stewing in an emptiness that was only too familiar.

Nerovoy returned to consciousness, but Ettol didn't even have the care to fuss over him again, so he suppressed him totally and returned the reaper to his previous spot inside the coat.

There would be no need to keep up appearances this time, after all.

And at length, the others finally began to arrive.

Damian. Feromas.

Late, as usual, though still not as late as Parson and Overra, apparently.

So much the better, though.

This presented a rare opportunity, didn't it? A chance to truly cut loose and experiment. See how much he'd grown since reincarnating--and perhaps get a true measure of how much more he had to go.

They were gods, weren't they? As much as he tried not to dwell on it, not let it go to his head... it was still the truth, wasn't it? Others might deny it--and even he might pretend to--but let us be honest here...

What were the limits, truly?

And worse still, his powers were so difficult to test. It wasn't like with all those servants who could safely conduct all sorts of experiments with their materializations and so forth, so long as they had a sufficiently large and empty space to play around in.

No. Ettol didn't need space. He needed subjects.

Minds.

Poor Damian. He didn't deserve what was about to happen to him.

Heh. Or did he? He was an active member of Abolish, wasn't he? Whether it was part of this trio's long plan or not, he was still serving those wicked human emperors.

And he'd always been a bit of an asshole, besides.

"What's the matter with you?" said Damian, who'd already been talking to him for a short while now. "Why aren't you saying anything?"

Ettol just stared at him. A friendly smile might've helped here, but Ettol could hardly even muster one. It probably wasn't enough.

An unsuspecting mind. So vulnerable. So many options.

No one really understood how much strength it took to hold himself back all the time. When the world was at his fingertips, when he could get whatever he wanted whenever he wanted it--no one understood the sheer level of temptation that filled every social moment of Ettol's existence.

Even other psychics didn't seem to know. As often as he'd encountered and spoken to them over the Ages, they just...

They didn't get it.

Well, of course not.

They weren't the God of Impulse.