He did not have a natural birth.
The little creature was so small and sickly, not even able to squall properly. Behind his ever-present grin, Nightmare felt consumed by irritation and confusion. The situation made no sense: Nightmare had put so much effort and creativity and time into this Demon Beast, why was it so weak?
The infant was red-faced with exhaustion and could only let out the smallest of mewls. It felt hot to the touch and squirmed in constant pain. Nightmare growled in disappointment, utterly void of pity. He'd made mistakes before, had failed before, but never like this. It would be best to kill the infant and try again.
But as the dark deity prepared to snuff out the new life, he felt an odd, warm pulsing. And he had to recollect himself from the shock, had to muster up some reason again. Because, for a moment, it was almost as if he'd sensed a Star Warrior —
Despite all logic, a second inquiry resulted in the same answer: Nightmare, the ultimate enemy and antithesis of the Star Warriors, had somehow created one.
The infant's attempts at wailing petered off into pathetic sniffles, and it dawned on Nightmare why the thing was so sick; of course, a creature with two halves at complete odds with each other would be in pain. Its body was at war with itself.
Nightmare considered for a moment letting the thing die on its own. But a golden opportunity had presented itself and he knew he'd be a fool to ignore it. Star Warriors could sense each others' presence, so beforehand it had been impossible to send a mole into the GSA's most elite ranks. But now…
Nightmare's grin became sincere, albeit in a cruel and terrifying way. He cradled his newest creation and spoke to it.
You will be my best Demon Beast.
The infant blinked open his eyes and finally found enough breath to cry.