There isn't a single outer god who enjoys being in the Deep Sea. Beyond simply not liking it, they had already attempted to escape the Deep Sea thousands, tens of thousands, or even hundreds of millions of times—and every single attempt had ended in failure.
Even for a godlike being, being trapped behind bars that can never be broken teaches one a sense of powerlessness. Some lost consciousness, and some simply stopped thinking. A few outer gods still tried to escape.
But most gave up on everything, fleeing into a life that could not be called living, unresponsive to any external stimuli. There was only one stimulus that could move them.
Hope.
And a very well-crafted hope at that. If I were to go out as I am now, the outer gods would reach the same conclusion as Chukya. The conclusion that they could never defeat me.
"In that case, if they think they can escape by killing me, I can use myself as bait."
Indeed, the moment the outer god known as Contamination realized it couldn't face me, it immediately gave up and fled. But what if, in its eyes, I wasn't that powerful? If I were a trivial being who had never become an outer god, one it could easily defeat—would it really run away?
No. It would try to rekindle the embers of hope it had given up on for so long. It would descend to kill me.
"So..."