"Every last one of them wants me to save the world, yet none of them will give me enough authority. If you won't give me enough authority, how am I supposed to save the world? With this mouth of mine? How is that possible? How could I save the world with nothing but my mouth? Sigh, don't you think I should wonder whether their brains were really crushed by a door? I honestly think their brains were either crushed by a door or kicked by a donkey. Other than that, I can't think of any other possibility, any other reason. After all, anyone with even a slightly functioning brain shouldn't expect me to accept such harsh conditions, right? They want me to become the knife in their hands, to face enemies who are nearly impossible to face, enemies who can't possibly be defeated. My brain wasn't crushed by a door, so how could I agree to their terms? Isn't that right? Tell me, isn't it?"
"They even sent my younger brother to find me. My relationship with that brother of mine isn't exactly good. He wants to kill me. How could I possibly agree under those circumstances?"
"Isn't that right? I think that's simply the truth. Since that's the truth, every one of them should go die. Only when all those old pests are dead will this world, this universe, have hope—hope of being saved. Otherwise, I truly can't see even the slightest bit of hope. If there had been even a tiny bit of hope, things wouldn't have ended up like this. I originally thought my younger brother was good enough, but now it seems I was thinking too much. I thought he could save this world, at the very least save this world. As for the universe, those