"My son, what can you tell me about the thing called ethics?" the distant memory of his mother asked. She was beautiful, sleek, black and cruel. A creature that could inspire both intense love or intense fear, and absolutely nothing in between.

"Ooh, ooh! I know!" Midnight chirped, looking up at the much larger feline, the kitten barely coming up to her chest. "That's stuff like being nice to folks and helpin' others!"

"That's right." she smiled, her soft green eyes bathing him in a warm, luminous glow. "Now, why do people hold such principles?"

"That's easy! Because they're all stupid!"

"A good answer. Unfortunately, not a correct one." Twilight, mother of Midnight said.

"Huh?"

"That's an honest mistake, however. Most people make it. They believe that it is simply a misguided philosophy held by the weak. They are frightfully wrong. Ethics isn't simply a belief system. It is a disease."

The dark grey kitten tilted it's head, its fur not taking on the full black of the family for some time later. He looked up to his mother, listening closely.

"Have I ever told you about your father?"

Midnight looked down at his paws. "No. Whenever I ask, you change the subject."

"Yes. It's a difficult topic for me, but it's important that you know the truth. Your father, Dusk, was a great man. Strong, cunning, and a master of the dark element. He had no equal in combat, and no woman could resist his charms, myself included. I was honored to stand at his side, as he killed and terrorized and dominated as he pleased.

"One day, however, on a day like any other, the strangest thing happened. He found himself injured in a fight against a neighboring cat. Nothing serious, just a few scratches, compared to the rival who was forced to limp home in defeat. He looked down at his scraped paw, and an odd expression came over him, and he said 'It hurts. I don't like this sensation'."

Midnight listened, enraptured.

"This was such an unusual thing to say. Of course, nobody likes pain! He said this as though it were some grand revelation on his part. He'd been hurt before, far worse than this, so what had changed? That's when he asked the question, that one horrible question which would one day destroy him: 'why am I doing to others, what I hate to have done to me?'."

"No way..."

"That isn't so bad in itself. There is a certain logic to it. Self preservation is everything, after all, and by not harming others, you encourage them to not harm you, and thus you keep yourself safe, right? It's ultimately a selfish belief, and it would have been fine had it simply ended there. Unfortunately, it never does.

"Pragmatism turns quickly into empathy. Before you know it, it is no longer about simply making your own life easier, it's about wanting to actually alleviate the suffering of others, because in a strange and increasingly literal way, you now feel their suffering yourself. Then, it begins to work in reverse. You actively wish to make others happy, and derive joy from it. Simple acts of kindness and generosity at first, where you just give a little, but that is a slippery slope as well. Eventually, you cannot give enough, and you don't even require the thanks or appreciation of others. The very concept, the very idea of making someone, even a stranger happier, is all that it takes! Eventually anything that you have, no matter the value, is worthless compared to that addiction that tyou so urgently need to sate.

"Then came that fateful day. There was a fire. One of those stupid human machines malfunctioned in the middle of the night, and next thing we knew, the entire house was filled with smoke. I carried you to safety, and waited outside for my husband to return. He lead one of the humans to safety, but then? Then he ran back inside. The flames were spreading, the black smoke covered everything, as he lead the humans out one by one, finishing with the youngest. Only then did he return to our side, where he collapsed.

"He was horribly burned, barely able to breathe, and clearly in terrible pain. That was when he, the man that I loved more than anything else in this world, broke my heart with his final words: 'Did everyone get out safely?'. I told him yes, and then, despite his obvious agony, he actually smiled, closed his eyes, and would never open them again."

She wiped away tears with the back of her heavy paw. The kitten had never seen his mother cry before.

"That's what morality does to you. It will take everything from you, and in the end, leave you grateful for the opportunity to destroy yourself, all for the sake of creating a better world which you won't even be alive to see. What's the point? It isn't his death that I mourn, as everyone dies eventually. In truth, he was lost to me long before that."

"Mama..."

The larger feline pressed her paw pad to the kittens cheek. "You have to promise me that that will never happen to you. That you'll stay vigilant against the horrible plague known as morality. That you will never, ever forget that you and only you are the only thing in this world that matters, and that other people, myself included, are either tools to use or obstacles to be overcome."

"I won't forget, mama, I promise! I'll be the most selfish cat ever! I'll take whatever I want and I won't let anyone ever stop me!" he smiled up at her.

"I know you will, my beautiful Midnight. I know you will."

The dark lord had been planning for his encounter with Jerin and her allies for days now. He had thought that he was ready for anything: for her to be strong and defiant, silent and stoic, even, as disappointing as it would have been, terrified and cowardly. He had anticipated almost every possible reaction, except for this one: this stupid little creature who had convinced herself that this cheap hamster cage was some sort of divine training ground, had actually admired him. Not the sort of admiration which came from respect for a worthy opponent, nor the sort which came from fear of a deadly foe, but rather the kind that came from genuinely liking a creature.

Exactly why this had come to be was difficult to say. Mice in general tended to revere the dark lords. They saw them as powerful, beautiful and living at the sides of the Makers, the supreme beings that they strived to emulate above all else. Similarly, Jerin wasn't a hateful creature at heart. Even her quest for vengeance was more driven by anger at herself and her own weakness, an anger which had largely faded when she was able to look the dark lord in the eyes and stand tall in the face of inevitable death. Beyond that, there was a certain measure of common sense. Sure, an imaginative youth might fantasize about being the brave dragon slaying hero, but that doesn't change the fact that such youths similarly fantasized about having a dragon, the creatures which breathed death and destroyed cities, as a best friend.

She also found the creatures plans thrilling, prodding him to go into detail about the final battleground which he had set up. Midnight was happy to oblige, of course. He was very much proud of it, after all. It was a completely deserted house, filled with fiends and assorted barriers and traps set up, all leading to the final showdown, where he would have her parents held prisoner. She didn't approve of this at first, but after a little explaining she had to agree that it was a necessary step in order to raise the stakes of the conflict. He was going to draw out the fight, and in time shroud everything in blackness, forcing them to depend on the glow of his eyes reflecting off of the metal of her sword to guide them. Then, just when they finally started to gain the advantage, the dark lord would reveal his true form... his dramatic rebirth as Neo-Midnight, where, in truth, he wouldn't have become any more powerful or looked any different, but he would have changed up his fighting style a little, and cloaked himself in the black distortion effect which he had demonstrated during his first attack on Jerin's village, a power which he had never found a proper opportunity to utilize since then. Ultimately, just showmanship, but showmanship is incredibly important. The mouse, of course, readily agreed.

Jerin was enraptured by all of this, regularly offering suggestions (many of which were quite good, with others, like having the arena be on fire seeming unwise to him on multiple levels), seeking clarifications, and generally hanging upon his every word. The problem? The dark lord had found himself actually enjoying this.

It felt nice to have the admiration of the little creature. The other cats had no interest in such things, largely content to fill their bellies and indulge in the occasional mindless act of cruelty, but now, now he finally had someone to talk to about all of this.

The terrible truth, one which he would never admit to anyone, not even himself, was that Midnight liked mice. He liked their adventurous spirit, their quest for materials and discoveries, the way that they kept making new weapons and armor to help to expand their horizons. He even liked the title of 'dark lord', which most of his kind considered childish at best, and offensive at worst. He liked how they were weak, and had to either think their way around problems, or grow stronger in order to meet them. They had the constant desire to improve themselves, as both individuals and as a society. Unearned power was boring, but active growth was always exciting to watch, and the mouse kingdom was the embodiment of active growth and improvement. If only such a thing could be said for his own kind. The important thing to understand about cats is that cats aren't fun. Kittens are fun, and once in a while even a grown one, usually when nobody was looking could be adventurous and mischievous, as could grown cats raised to be that way by humans, but as a whole, they had no interest in adventures, play or even jokes. This wouldn't be such a problem if this lack of interest was replaced with a desire for progress, trying to uncover the mysteries of the universe, or build wondrous new inventions, but instead it was largely replaced with nothing. A simple contentedness with eating, sleeping and getting through one more day without dying.

The mice, on the other hand, had a fascinating little civilization, endless optimism and a rich, expanding history which he, as a dark lord, was now a part of. That was part of the reason that he had secretly hoped that Jerin and her friends might eventually defeat him: so they could return, triumphant, and the mouse bards would sing tales of the great battle against the fearsome monster known as Midnight, that even when the final blow was struck and the battle finished, he would always be a part of their history and mythology. Well, 'final' blow might be a little bit of an exaggeration. As stated before, he obviously had no intentions of actually dying. In time he was sure to come back in order to have his 'revenge'.

Instead, it was all falling apart in a way that he had never dreamed possible. He actually found himself feeling bad about attacking Jerin's village. She never gave a tearful depiction of the pain and misery that Midnight had caused. It would have likely been easier if she had. He was prepared for that, could have laughed it off. Instead, she somehow understood. All of that pain and fear which he had caused for nothing, and she was ready to forgive it just like that, without him even asking her too. Somehow she was the one who had understood what he had done, when even he could not.

She was an inspiring creature, full of life and hope and ambition and strength. The dark lord was actually enjoying her company, and was glad that she was alive. That was when it happened. He began to think of the many other mice who were no longer a part of this world, namely those who has perished at his claws. Had any of them been just as pleasant? Could they have enriched his life, and offered him an interesting experience, experiences which he was now deprived of because instead he had simply killed them?

He tried so hard to remove those thoughts from his head, but deep down, he knew that he was already infected, and that this was one battle that he didn't know how to win. The small creature continued to mindlessly chatter as she ran within the wheel. Eager to contribute at first, the dark lord now responded robotically, his mind very much elsewhere.

No, he thought. It's not over yet.

He didn't really believe it, though. He was relieved when his human had returned from upstairs, anything to get his mind off of things. She regained her seat, resuming her craftsmanship, or at least she had attempted to to. The scissors in her hand froze open once again, and she fought just a little too hard to brute force their way closed. Her efforts worked a bit too well, as she cursed under her breath, the tool snapping in her hand, cutting her thumb, forcing her rush to the kitchen to wash out the cut which Jerin thankfully didn't see.

"Huh? Who's that?" Jerin asked, still running along the wheel, now slowing to a trot.

"What are you talking about?"

"The other Maker had a fully blue body. This one is different. It's white on the top, and dark blue on the bottom!" Jerin said.

Midnight blinked. "Seriously? Okay, I get it, your kind are supposed to be stupid, it's funny, but this is just too much. How can you possibly not understand the idea of changing clothes? I know for a fact that your kind, you in particular, wear clothing almost all the time!"

Jerin looked closely at the human, shocked. The idea that humans wore clothing similar to mice, and that it wasn't simply their skin wasn't some grand secret among her kind, but it wasn't exactly common knowledge, either. Many mice had just assumed that clothes were designed to emulate the look of the makers, similar to how they, with great effort, learned to walk on two legs. It didn't help that mice considered Makers virtually impossible to tell apart, either, even if clothing actually were a part of their bodies. To them, looking at two Makers was very much like looking at two mountains. Sure, they have different patterns of snow at their summits, but standing right in front of them, all that you really saw was rock.

While the small mouse looked on in awe, making sense of this new information, Midnight couldn't help chuckle to himself.

This was a problem, and the dark lord Midnight knew that sooner rather than later, the little mouse was going to ask a really big favor of him. One that he feared he wouldn't have the strength to refuse.