The runes floated beside him apathetically, not providing him with any comfort over the realization that his father was never a good person. His goal might have been to save the world, but to do so; he manipulated his son and countless people. Not to mention, sacrificed them.
Arthur felt like all of his existence was for nothing. It was hard to find any sort of meaning in a life orchestrated by his father or by anyone else, not that it mattered who. When there is no will, there will be no way.
"You are hurt, child," a voice, neither feminine nor masculine, spoke to him from above, and Arthur turned his attention to the world's core. "Let me be your comfort."
"You... want to be my comfort?" laughed Arthur at the irony. "You must be the voice of this world and the one behind everything."
"I am not behind anything, child. I am existence, not desire."
