As the God of Pain, Pain believed there was no longer any form of torment in this world capable of surprising her.
As long as those useless waste-of-space followers could produce even the tiniest spark of creativity amid their monotonous interpretations of pain, it counted as a small diversion for Pain in this boring plane of exile.
From another angle, wasting endless time without seeing any hope was also an enactment of Pain's divine authority—the purest spiritual torment, entirely unrelated to desire. Satisfying desire through pain was Pain's personal divine preference; her divine authority covered a broader scope, embracing every form of pain.
Hopefully, this initiate would not remain limited to physical torment or strange eating fetishes.
Very soon, the collection of consciousness imbued with pain that had just been transmitted here unfolded within Pain's mind.
"An empire once glorious was now declining, yet a nation with a great history refused to acknowledge its current state and still retained the pride of its heyday...
There was even background setup?
The God of Pain was somewhat surprised. It had been a long time since someone had interpreted their understanding of pain this way.
Long, long ago, there had been followers who did this. Back then, everyone pursued the desires of pain at a much slower pace. They would lay out background, build immersion in the plot, making it easier to throw themselves wholeheartedly into what came later.
But later, as thresholds gradually rose, the original slow pace ceased to be popular. More direct and brutal stimulation became increasingly fashionable among followers. Eventually, it basically became a matter of getting straight to the point from the start, with people growing impatient if delayed by even a second.
Now, seeing someone lay out the background before beginning again suddenly gave Pain a nostalgic