"A price..." The Little Elf understood this word all too well.
'To only be able to fulfill the wishes of others… is the price that I can never have a wish of my own?'
"We are... the Wishless Ones?"
The Little Elf was still unable to accept this reality as the god kneeling there began to speak once more.
"The Slothful One understood this long ago. That is why it gave up on thinking and fulfilled wishes without restraint."
"It felt no fear in the face of death. It had long foreseen its own end—the sea drying up, leaving behind only endless yellow sand. It was simply too lazy to change any of it."
"If we are destined to be without wishes, then there's no meaning in doing anything at all. Whether we are lazy or diligent, the end is the same..."
The god's voice was laced with sorrow. It didn't hate the Slothful One—it felt more pity than anything else.
"It once said something to me..."
"'You knew my existence in this world would be for nothing, so why did you create me at all?'"
