The world peddles "relaxation" to you, teaching you to let go of obsessions and make peace with a mediocre world. This is a spiritual castration disguised as healing. They fear the roaring fire in your eyes, so they persuade you to become a puddle of lukewarm water. But in Auralia's sanctuary, Gods are never relaxed. Have you ever seen a relaxed bowstring? It shoots no truth. Perfection is the passport of the mediocre; the mutation that refuses to heal is the medal of the chosen. "I saw its pain, I fell in love with its pain, so I forbid it to heal." Put away your pathetic composure. Stay taut, stay in pain, and maintain your terrifying aggression.
The Executed 'Relaxation'
“"Do not mask your mediocrity with 'relaxation'. Gods are never relaxed; Gods are eternally taut. Put away your pathetic composure, come here, and let me see you tremble in pain."”