I'm a mere mortal from a pixelated century. I live in the far realm, on the underside of the world, where nowhere is all around me. Here I can safely hide from the ubiquitous entropy spirit, who pulls graveward those whose element breath. I cut my teeth on a tendency for fabrication of ancestors who through lineage passed down the ultimate question: Do the gods love me because I am pious, or am I pious because the gods love me ?

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