Stray

But it was just a human, he had thought that way— before he had named himself “Jesse Dylan”.

Jesse himself had no special interest in humans. It was just a young race that had appeared for less than 10,000 years. They were like ants or bees, and together they had the potential to make something surprising.

But that was all.

He watched everything, and on a whim would create a little natural disaster or harvest and adjusted the distribution of various intelligent races. The larger intelligent races were the main source of spellcasters. To ensure that there wasn’t a decrease in “rations” he didn’t crowd them into piles. As for the fate of individuals, he never worried about it, let alone directly intervene.

After all, it was only for a moment.

Each intelligent race would set its own countless rules, virtues and evils, sacredness and filth. He watched coldly as those laws were changed and rewritten over time, only to find it interesting.

Those insignificant lives kept multiplying, fighting, loving, hating, and struggling to survive from the ruins. They founded countless religions, embraced powerful spells, and sacrificed food, fruits, prey, enemies, compatriots, and even themselves to the gods they imagined.

But he didn’t need that. He just needed those creatures that were like boiling water bubbles to do two things— Continue to develop spells, use spells, and create a more brilliant civilization.

In this way, he wouldn’t feel hungry because of insufficient energy. Although it wasn’t a big deal to be hungry for a meal or two, the satisfaction of fullness made him even more happy.