While in this strange (dream) land, without conscious memory of the waking world, of the blue skies and the monsters that yet live beneath it, the words strike him as from someone of the Junkyard who has given a great amount of thought to the nature of their existence. There is a kind of mercy in the way this stranger describes it. A mercy that others would fail to recognise unless they, too, knew what it was like to be steeped in blood.

He is reminded of Lupa and the quick, efficient slaughter he left in his wake before Lupa lost his sensibilities to his demon's hunger.

Serph nods. "Nirvana is meant to be a land without fighting." He hopes it to be a land without devouring, too; otherwise, if he brings everyone to Nirvana it will only be a matter of time before they will need to devour each other. "Until then, there is no shame in doing what we must."

One of the doors leads to a long staircase that goes down, down, down. It's too dark to see where it exits, but it does at least seem to bring them far from this scorching heat.