In the void.
This was a world of twilight. Above the void, the hazy sun seemed reluctant to spill its warm light over the land, and cold filled the earth.
High in a mountain range stood a castle.
Marble was its primary building material.
From afar, countless elves could be seen atop the castle. Their strength varied, and they wore thick clothes as they busied themselves building and reinforcing it.
A closer look revealed that they existed somewhere between spirit bodies and flesh, clearly petitioners who had yet to fully take form.
At the center of the castle stood a great hall. Only upon careful inspection did it become clear that every part of this hall had been formed from condensed runes, emitting a faint glow!
At the center of the hall, above a towering flight of steps, stood an enormous throne.
On the throne, Anion was working.
Countless fine threads and runes wove together in his hands. Thread by thread, they gradually formed a network, which in turn condensed into solid substance.
As the network and substance slowly took shape, wisps of white light emerged, gathering into slender ribbons that merged into the network.
With the appearance of the white light, tiny points of light flickered into being from the void. The origin force had been drawn by divinity and the power of faith.
At the sight, Anion sighed.
Drawing in origin force meant that his faith had already been established and stabilized in the Main World.
Yet that was also why he sighed. Every closed world had its own laws. In this world, everything had to begin anew, and the task was harder still.
This was the instinctive rejection of the origin force.
Different crystal-wall universes had different laws.
Anion sighed softly.
Below him, the hundred thousand elven