He wanted it to burn. All of it.

He could hardly stand to think about his old home. Just a minuscule remembrance sent tinges of pain that pressed against his chest, remnants of the old pain of inconceivable weight. Frostbit chills always overpowered the ache, numbing down the fire that threatened to rise up from his gut and completely consume him. In those icy moments of clarity, he can think objectively, disregard all the past pains, focus on the best course of action.

Such a moment had struck him as he stood on the busy street, the crowd brushing past him without a second glance. How pointless their lives seemed, and yet they still moved around at such velocities so reality wouldn't catch up with them. He moved against the flow of businessmen and women. They bumped into his arms, impassive to his presence; unaware of the role he plays in their survival. They were so arrogant, so confident in the stability of their lives, despite all the injustice, deception.

Terribly flawed humans. Horribly pathetic, weak, dull, rash, instable. But that was better than lifeless static existence. They had one useable quality, the ability to adapt. Flawed, but workable. These people were slightly beneficial to him. They could be molded into his image, with just the right amount of pressure applied. He smirked. Yes, this place would be quite useful after he had control. Some humans will be more troublesome than the other passive hordes. Spurred by desperation to remain in control. A fool's pursuit. They won't be much trouble after they are disposed of.

He would discourage any rebellion before they got out of hand. Looking around at the blank stares he knew it wouldn't be too difficult. All he needs to do is demolish all they had. Get rid of the stability they coveted so ferociously, add a little chaos to their lives. Then they will come, they will serve him, they will kneel before him. They will give him the resources to destroy his old home.

Then it shall burn. All of it.