1: As the serene home backdrop behind him cracks apart and reveals the fleshy, hellish landscape of the astral plane, the Smiling Man lowers his face off his head as if it were a mask and black static pours out like smoke.
The Smiling Man: Do not attempt to imagine moral superiority over me. You are as an ant to a giant; your words are a breeze hoping to move a mountain.

2: The Smiling Man reveals more of his true form: a swirling cyclone of static and distortions. It towers over the recoiling form of Julia.
The Smiling Man/Zalef-Labev: All I do, and all I allow, is born from the swallowed experiences of a hundred billion souls. My expertise outweighs all the sand in all the world’s deserts.
You and your race are but motes of dust flickering in the light, a momentary flash. I am like the sun Herself, vast and everlasting.
I am Cairo. Its buildings are my limbs and its streets my veins. I was the walled City of Elders before Cairo rose, and before that, I was the towering city of Y’thek with its obsidian spires.
I am Zalef-Labev, as I was Labev-Ra, as I was Nibabu, as I was countless other names from races that crawled upon this Earth before your kind was given its shape.
All who die with my name on their lips are drawn to me like rivers into the ocean. I hold the memories of nations, of kings and peasants, of saints and murderers, of dullards and magi.
Know your place and judge me not, for the soil is stained by your hands, not mine.