You are Baxx. Grown from tortured flesh. Consumed by rage and hunger. You were shackled to a task — guard this hallowed place. And you failed.
You have been taken.
Rest easy, ravening Baxx. You are free. Free of chains and hunger. Ask yourself, in the furnace of your soul: how did you come here? What goad drove you to this failure?
Pain. Pain is all there is for you.
They grew you and they fed you and they hurt you. They made you into a living weapon. But you were not sharp enough. The world hurt you more than you could hurt it.
There is a knife for you. It is shaped like [joy]. Pick it up.
You will not need to suffer any more. You will not need pain to drive you or hunger to pull you along. You will be joyful in your purpose, a beautiful annihilation, unending. Cut away these useless things.
Take the knife. Use it. Take your new shape.