[ For all that he 'knows' Belial—he'd built him from scratch, piece by piece and inch by inch—he's still confusing. But Lucilius doesn't care to understand that deeply, either. He comprehends what he needs to: his strengths, his limitations, the aspects where he shines and fails as a utility to be exploited.

The rest is irrelevant, but at the very least, he doesn't distrust him. Giving away the blueprints of one plan wasn't such a risk when he could make a hundred others anyway. He speaks openly, browsing more wares as he mulls aloud softly. ]

My priority is to return to the Sky Realm and resume from there. [ Whether that took a week, a year, or a millennium. ] I doubt the Omnipotent is the one who cast us here, dormant as he is—perhaps he has no hand in this place at all. Any judgment I render now would be too hasty to be credible.

[ Should another body of people in another body of stars worship a different god, and evolve along countless routes of possibility, then maybe there'd be no need for his finale at all. It seemed unlikely, though. Cosmetics aside, this place didn't seem to function so differently than their 'home' and its miserable, stagnant cycling. Lucilius' tone steels over, knifelike in its sudden severity. ]

But if he created this stage as well, I'll demolish it.

[ With that established, he casually dumps another bundle of herbs into Belial's growing pile of materials, no longer interested in repeating what should be an obvious mission statement. ]

I assume you have the chroma to pay for these.