"No, why, why does no one believe me..."
The child's voice gradually filled with jealousy and madness, screaming hoarsely:
"I, Madra, only want a father, just one father is enough."
"You gave birth to me, yet no one is willing to acknowledge me, no one is willing to be my father..."
The infant who called himself Madra, his innocent yet venomous crying was as sharp as a banshee's howl,
"I was born into this world, clearly only wanting a warm home..."
"And what about you? You only see me as a monster born from the ninth trial and try to destroy it, harvesting me as a trophy of the ninth trial, treating me as the Demon King!"
It roared, cried, listening to the curses of anger from the whole world directed at it, the insults becoming increasingly unbearable.
Its voice echoed in God's ears.
God remained silent, gently spreading his five fingers, turning into a palm,
