Nietzschean imagery no one will ever notice, or at least I like to interpret it through that frame. the forever-dying world is now dead; layer cakes of transfinite past failed civilizations lay atop each other in a mountain of madness, a dreg heap; eons past even that one sits in a salt and dust caked desert-ruin with the Last Man, a Slave no less, though also subversively a knight -- one with the ability and drive to transvaluate and progress, requesting your [dark] soul. You kill the slave-moralist-knight and give his vast and mad soul to a neotenous Artist who, using it, makes the world anew. Assumedly Elden Ring is created. The innocent dice game continues. The burning of fire is beautiful -- but a flame that lasts forever is Profane.