Deep within the infernal vastness, where time had long lost its meaning, the Demon God stirred. Its purpose had never been conquest for conquest's sake, nor slaughter for the thrill of blood, it desired only one thing: to be perfect.
But that very desire was its curse.
The Demon God was born from imperfection itself, a flaw within the absolute structure of reality, an anomaly that should never have existed. Law was meant to guide creation, not live within it. Yet through neglect and imbalance, imperfection found form, slipping through the cracks of the Primordials' grand design.
It was a wound that learned to breathe.
