Asmodeus observed the woman whom she assumed was the creator of the champion that stole her hands with great focus. This was her, and her surroundings seemed vaguely familiar. All things considered, Vermillion couldn't have come from far. To her dismay, though, before Asmodeus could get a better look at the surroundings on the severed hand, the last shreds of life in it faded away and the eye closed as Shadenfrude poked at it. Cursing beneath her breath, Asmodeus was irritated. Or she would be, if it weren't the enormous success of her champion, whom she could see returning home with a successful batch of the Poison God in her arms and what appeared to be a man in a taco suit next to her. She didn't question the latter, as it seemed the two weren't fighting, but she would have to keep an eye on him, upon his arrival. As a tiny thank you, Asmodeus gave a subliminal order to the dolls outside her castle, those living almost autonomously, that they were to celebrate the return of Priscilla when she re-entered Bucharest.
The ghostly wisp once again made a motion as if it were exhaling. "Because, if you'd think about it for one second, I can tell you why. Your little troupe of people were just killed by me, right? I happen to be a Creator. Now, think carefully here, Creators can make and recreate anything they get their hands on that they had a hard time doing before, right? There are no real limits, as they've even created all forms of life. I can give you back those people and more. I can re-create your race using the DNA from the ones i just took, re-combine it, create so many different individuals, and in return, I'll give your your own domain, a vast world, to live in. You'll all be safe there. Forget my reasoning for preventing the completion of The Fall, you'll be killing two birds with one stone here. What do you say?"
