"Don't tell me you expect me to fight Gods." Zephyr scoffed incredulously. If that was what Lytheron was building up to — if that was what The Will of Origin meant, then he might as well just wrap up their conversation now.
What could someone like him do against beings that were factually Gods? Entities with processing capabilities that infected the very threads of existence itself?
"I do, in fact, expect you to fight Gods," Lytheron deadpanned. "Even further, I expect you to purge them."
Zephyr let out a humorless chuckle, "Then you must be crazy if you think I'd sign up for that—"
"You're an improbability." Lytheron said over Zephyr, cutting off the young man's words. "Your very existence," he gestured to all of Zephyr, "is an improbability…"
Zephyr looked utterly lost, clearly needing more explanation.
"What do you think entities at Tier 9 fear?" Lytheron asked.
