[ It is a baffled, angry silence that meets Set in return — nothing to combat the sounds of war and whatever it is Set takes from that, letting them fill up the field where desert and space meet. He is not bothered by them, unlike the brief barb at the idea of Amos sacrificing Lucien for the sake of Zenith, the shock of the very idea dispersing with a crisp impression of the fuck—

Because Set is a psycho, and everything he says keeps adding to the impression.

Amos regards his proclamation, and turns up his nose at it. ]

Don't get me wrong, I know I ain't shit most of the time, [ the words coming out in a drawl before getting more pointed, ] but at least I'm not the one declaring myself better than anyone else. Nobody who actually cares about anyone else does that.

[ Yes, Set can have his proclamations, and based on his last conversation with Ruby he understands that they might even be true in some circumstances, for some people. But when Amos reflects on the people he has followed throughout his life — Yima, yes, and Lydia, and the people in between — he knows that none of them would have pulled that shit. The fucking arrogance of it all...

... This is why he hates him. Amos continues to stand his ground, offering nothing to counter Set's asserted domain. In the end, all there will be is a void; in the end, that's all he'll have (blinded to the humanity he still possesses buried deep within him, too blanketed with sheer nothingness to be uncovered so soon). ]

You didn't deliver him to shit. You don't respect anyone other than yourself, because it's all about you. You act like you're above me, but I got no problems reaching you from where I'm standing.

[ Get the fuck back down in the mud with me already, you asshole. You're already here. ]