A bitter resentment simmered within him. The absurdity of it all struck him: he was planning war games, strategizing troop movements and siege tactics, while beings of immense power were engaged in a struggle of cosmic proportions. It felt trivial, almost insulting. He envisioned himself as a child playing with toy soldiers while a storm raged overhead.
"They think they can handle everything themselves," he muttered to the empty room, his voice laced with frustration. "They think they can keep us in the dark, protect us like children. But I will not be protected. I will not be kept in the dark."
He paced the room, his mind racing. He understood the apelings' desire for secrecy, their need to operate without interference. But he also felt a burning need to contribute, to prove his worth, to show the godlings that he was not just a king of men, but a force to be reckoned with.
