Cvin 1.

Once, the scholar ʑɟʑअ, of the line of ΦॡʑθѮ, questioned the mutterings in the streets about them, and the caverns below. The prototype laborers forged of crystal and light toiled eternally, praying in weak tongues to false gods of desperation. While they would grow far away from such beliefs in the future, in present they engaged in amusing and pitiful superstition. They would pray and cry and shout frantically to the heavens above, often sealed over by leagues and leagues of stone.

No aid would come as a result of these prayers. ʑɟʑअ knew this well, for their religion, and all others of its kin, were but a biological response to fear of the unknown and desire, however rightful, for salvation. A shameful occurrence, so to speak.

In that long pre-Ғॡʑअ era, soldiers and peasants alike brought with them their slaves to the steps of ʑɟʑअ's home to ask questions regarding the world material. ʑɟʑअ bid they not bring said slaves, as their appearance was greatly distasteful to the scholar. Carinians of all classes, from the lowest peasant to the grandest king (though the latter is often more brutal!) bemoaned this policy greatly, for it denied them the basic right of Carinian law to practice tradition; an ancient tradition it was, predating the crystal-light servants of their own conception.

For a time, ʑɟʑअ had merely done this because their ancestors indeed had as well, citing distaste for so many to enter their home at once, though some of it had been property. But now, as with any great thinker of old, ʑɟʑअ sought a reason behind their own acts brought to habit.

Thus, ʑɟʑअ contemplated this question within their chambers for many days, allowing the cool air of the unpolluted city to brush against their face, and touch their mind. Ignoring the obvious solution, as is the wont of many a great thinker, they thought.

This fast of enlightenment quickened ʑɟʑअ's thoughts substantially, and their mind wandered to other traditions akin to it. Bowing to kings as they entered a chamber. Offering the corpses of fallen foes to a great victory on the battlefield in flame. The last of such ideals was a controversial one yet still, for many desired to merely butcher enemy corpses, and construct a river of blood to celebrate victory, as was casually accepted in society as an opinion.

Musing, ʑɟʑअ muttered a stream of consciousness under their own breath, attempting to reach a solution after six solar weeks of contemplation uninterrupted by querying parties from beyond their home. A return question was reached, in lieu of a proper answer.

"But what logic favors one method of energy expenditure over the others, and to no practical benefit? It all feeds the very same universal entropy, after all."

Inputs and outputs, ʑɟʑअ reasoned. Inputs and outputs unclouded by ridiculous tradition would yield to results.

The ending of the words is МАЛАФИМ-АЗСОЛТОЧ.