In Tusha's experience, a demigod without selfishness simply did not exist. Every action, every word, was a coin spent in the currency of self-interest. He had witnessed countless beings wrap themselves in the banner of light, only to use it as a tool for their own avaricious ends. He himself was no different. Not even the gods were.
"Tusha, you will never understand," Valthor's voice resonated, no longer from a single point, but from the very air itself. "This is my home. This is the world that gave me life. It is the world where my family, my people, still dwell. As long as I draw breath, the Emerald Veil will not fall to ruin."
His voice grew stronger, more passionate, for he could feel the fusion nearing its completion.
"Tusha! Light and darkness, in opposition and fusion, in dependence and complement—the rules are about to be made whole! You have not won… and I have not lost! Hahahaha…"
Valthor's voice grew fainter and fainter, dissipating like smoke on the wind.
