"Humans…"
"Really are pitiful creatures."
Nine large pillars of scarlet flames blazed in an otherworldly manner around a bizarre rune etched into the ground with a strange red substance.
That strange substance—
Was human blood.
A myriad of intricately drawn markings overlapped and crossed each other meticulously, until a mystifying figure was birthed.
A polygon having nine sides was now drawn onto an altar before Oneiros, the uncanny nonagon being completely sketched into the altar with an unsettlingly large volume of human blood.
"They are weak."
Oneiros mumbled softly, drawing the last of his occultic runes over the slightly elevated altar until the nonagon was fully formed, before his very eyes.
"Yet—"