Infinity.

The concept is strange to humanity.

Day in, day out, you go about your day thinking you know what it means. After all, it’s just something that’s never-ending! Like numbers, or the universe...

How stupid.

Despite what you may believe, nothing in this universe is built infinitely. Nothing. Not even the largest stars or the vast expanses of space are. They will end somewhere, and when they do, and only when they do will you understand how truly minuscule they are to something truly infinite.

Something, for example, like the book in my hands.

Betwixt its yellowed and dilapidated pages are words unfathomable. Unspeakable; spells and rituals devilish in nature, yet the promise of power so alluring no man would dare resist its offer.

And like all those before, they would die pathetic deaths at the hands of beings magnitudes above their own; kings, emperors, beggars, or the ordinary man. Not one can withstand the power in this book’s arrest.

Because a monkey, no matter how sophisticated it may pretend to be, will never comprehend that which is incomprehensible…

“Uwuuh… p-papa?”

All except for ten:

Gregorias.

Hastur.

Constantine.

Tsukiko.

Abigail.

Chimaera.

Ghibbline.

Maiacharl.

Ebony.

Daemos.

Against all expectations, they seem to fancy these ten cubs. But as to whether their fate is a favourable one, only time will tell.

“Papa! Help! It’s dark here! I-I’m scared...”

Heralds of willpower, or victims of insanity? I... wonder...