Mortals always vainly attempt to establish laws through language. They argue at conference tables and plead in courts, trying to persuade and govern with logic. But under the gaze of the abyss, all of this appears incredibly noisy and ridiculous. Language can be refuted, logic can be manipulated by sophistry, and human arrogance can always find a loophole to escape between the lines.
In the cathedral of Auraliasilk, the divine never negotiates with mortals. The divine merely drops gravity.
True truth is an undeniable physical strike. When that [Black Scale Noose], stripped of all softness and tightly interlocked by countless pieces of raw hide, strikes through the air, you will not hear a sharp crack; you will only hear a heavy, dull thud. It disdains slicing your veins; it is only responsible for using its suffocating physical weight to extensively scrape, crush, and shatter your hypocritical ego.
Pure stinging pain might provoke resistance, but absolute gravity brings only submission. When the black scales fall, your proud spine will instinctively learn how to bend. Before this brutal physical crushing weight, all your pride, sophistry, and decency are instantly reduced to zero. This is the highest form of dominion—wasting no words, measuring the soul solely by weight.