In real-time he watched this genocide, and the extent to which it only engorged the Wound's hardon.

- Which darting penis he stabbed inside the hole it had worked in the Queen of Waat's thigh, an improvised surgical vagina, an homage to the happy industries of Theust.

Pry could see that killing everyone he loved, was an event that only increased the sexual excitement of the thing floating above all of them, ejaculating into a wound in his mother's thigh.

He ejaculated copiously into the hole in his mother. A fake vagina. The same time projecting out of the connection he'd severed between Pry, Massimo, Pheel, and Art, that reality material in panels and planes and insane uncategorisable, geometric coloured patterns, that ripped Old Works apart - annihilating every being that currently existed... inside it.

They saw the Science Priests, and their flesh too burn out, they saw the slaves of Hortag, of Shensh - of anywhere; they saw the organ barrels, they saw the technology exchanged between the great three-planet civilisation, centred upon this conduit, upon Old Works. They saw every material thing, every person, all of them - annihilated in the mad channelling from out between the four heroes enslaved/paralysed, watching.

Wounds opened everywhere, wounds opened in all of it - even as the Cyclops left out from those same wounds. All that remained were the beings transported between; slaves, Science Priests, children and mutants surgically transformed into painful entertainments. Every living creature – idea - in that great tangled mad complex structure they saw before them -

annihilated; agonisingly, in those directed flashes out the wounds.

- With that portion that remained; whatever he had decided in advance, or played with, or guessed at, as he poured endless gallons of gloopy ejaculate into the hole his mother had hacked in her thigh, for this purpose, or he'd stabbed in it, while he did that. - Every being in Old Works was annihilated and their soul evacuated/replaced by that of, by the fake soul, by the demon;

now operating their destroyed flesh; joining now in great floods, in queues, pouring out of Old Works.

They saw it fading out now in flashes - only remaining at all, because he continued through his own three eyes and the one in his mouth he'd pulled off his mother's supernatural private parts, to see it there.

But fading out now - superimposed, in fact, they saw - something else:

New Works.