This is an Age of Gods, I am afraid, Master Corum. There are many, big and small, and they crowd the… — Michael Moorcock

Everything may exist for a short while—even justice. But the true state of the universe is anarchy. It is the mortal’s tragedy that he can never accept this.

“It is your capacity for love that makes you strong, Prince Corum.”

“And my capacity for hate?”

“That directs your strength.”

And then the full injustice of his fate struck him. Arioch bore no malice towards the Vadhagh. He cared for them no more or less than he cared for the Mabden parasites feeding off his body. He was merely wiping his palette clean of old colours as a painter will before he begins a fresh canvas. All the agony and the misery he and his had suffered was on behalf of the whim of a careless god who only occasionally turned his attention to the world that he had been given to rule.