He considers all this with growing resentment.

Miserable. Telling him like he doesn't know! As though such misery -

He is not about to air his personal experience to a god who nearly erased him.

"I desire -" the briefest of pauses, barely perceptible "- what all gods desire."

Lethys feels his attention dimly tugged. People are distressed, somewhere.

"You may have won, but you were late to this war, Monzun." His next words are quieter, but far sharper. "Do not look for pity from me."