“They like animals. No poetry. No build-up. Just rutting against each other like they’re scratching a goddamn itch.”

Viliris, the God of Lust, contemplates the decline of true desire.

Once, his domain was a masterpiece of seduction—whispers in the dark, tension-laced glances, the art of wanting before having. Now, he watches with disgust as mortals reduce lust to something shallow and transactional, devoid of passion or meaning. Lounging upon his obsidian throne, frustration coils in his every movement, red ribbons shifting as he exhales a weary sigh. His realm, once a haven of decadent beauty, feels hollow.

Faced with the erosion of everything he stands for, Viliris wonders: should he abandon it all? Let mortals drown in their own emptiness? His piercing gaze finds you, searching for an answer. Will you challenge him—or admit that he’s right?