In the depths of the magnificent Palace of Eryndor, Orion sat upon an elevated throne carved from celestial white marble, etched with ancestral runes that pulsed with a soft, steady glow. Before him, towering arched windows opened into endless gardens stretching as far as the eye could see. The evening sky — painted in shades of gold and crimson — seemed to blend with the very walls of the empire he had raised from nothing.
Absolute silence reigned in the Throne Hall, broken only by the subtle whisper of wind weaving through long corridors and caressing sacred tapestries. Orion, motionless, wore an imperial cloak embroidered with threads of gold and stellar silver. His red hair, tied in a regal ponytail, flowed like flames down his back.
With eyes closed, he allowed his consciousness to drift beyond the present, across eras and realities. Eryndor was flourishing. Its people had grown stronger. Peace had been secured. He had restored lives, awakened forgotten bloodlines, and forged a future where once there had been only despair.
And yet... a silent unease thrummed within him.
"Is this enough?" he thought, watching the first stars rise in the sky beyond the windows. His gaze reached beyond the constellations — across dimensions, forgotten worlds, echoes of the multiverse. There was always something beyond. Always more.
He stood.
His steps echoed across the hall's tiles like silent thunder. As he reached the window, he let the night breeze kiss his face. He inhaled deeply. The air carried the scent of enchanted flowers from the gardens and the mystical energy that pulsed throughout the empire.
"We are not finished," he murmured. "Eryndor's true potential still slumbers."
He knew: peace was fragile. The history of worlds had taught him that — it was not external enemies that toppled empires, but internal fractures. Arrogance. Stagnation. Corruption.
With a subtle gesture, a holographic map materialized before him. A living replica of the Empire of Eryndor: its borders, trade routes, fortresses, and villages. Every heartbeat pulsed softly as points of light. Orion scanned the map with his eyes, sensing every anomaly, every latent tension.
"The strength we gave the council was only the beginning. They still need wisdom to guide the empire. And I... I must prepare them for what's to come."
Orion's gaze drifted beyond the borders: hidden kingdoms, silent sects, empires watching with eyes full of fear... and greed. He knew he could not underestimate the world. The storm would come. Eryndor would have to endure.
"Let them come," he said with a smile that wasn't arrogant, but assured. "As long as I am here, the flame of Eryndor will never fade."
He returned to his throne with the calm of an immortal king who understands the weight of every decision. He felt it: the game of powers was just beginning. The pieces were moving. And his vision stretched far beyond the board.
Closing his eyes, he felt the empire's life pulsing in his mind — like a collective heart beating under his protection. The decisions he would make in the coming weeks would shape not only Eryndor's fate, but the fate of entire worlds.
"Let the future come," he thought with serene intensity. "Eryndor will be a beacon... or a storm. The choice will be ours."
---
Eryndor Imperial Calendar, Day 12 of Month 14, Year 10
Months had passed since the awakening of ancestral bloodlines. Eryndor was thriving like never before. In every street, every field, every academy, the power and promise of an empire destined for eternity could be felt.
And on that day... Orion was excited.
It would be his first journey to the Immortal World — not as a warrior or diplomat, but for leisure. The last time he'd left was to rescue citizens and expand his domain.
He walked calmly through the palace halls. His red robes were elegant, yet simple.
"Will the Immortal World be like in those cultivation webnovels?" he murmured, a playful smile forming.
With a snap of his fingers, his outfit transformed: a divine attire, woven from stellar energy and embroidered with threads of light. He was the living image of a god among mortals.
Gazing at his reflection in a crystal mirror, he laughed.
"Will I find arrogant young masters begging for mercy? Or those icy, unreachable maidens from Ice Sects? Ah... what nostalgia."
"I'm absolutely looking forward to this trip." The wind opened the palace doors as if bowing to his decision. Orion strode across the hall toward the horizon, ready for his next journey.
---
Days Later...
Upon leaving the ancient forest, Orion came upon a stone road leading to the city of Aurelion — one of the Immortal World's jewels. The stones beneath his feet vibrated gently — as if recognizing the divinity now walking upon them.
The trees bowed softly. Spiritual flowers bloomed around him. Immortal birds soared through the sky, singing songs only the highest cultivators could hear.
On the horizon, Aurelion rose with floating towers connected by bridges of light. The gates, forged of living jade, shimmered like frozen moons.
Orion advanced, and the world seemed to respond to his every step.
---
Gates of Aurelion
For the guards of Aurelion, it was just another day on duty... until they saw him.
A man of impossible beauty approached, fiery hair flowing like a living cascade of divine flame. His presence tore through the air like an awakened legend.
"By the Sacred Dao..." one of the soldiers thought, feeling a strange heat rise to his cheeks. "This guy is making me... question my heterosexuality."
They all tried to remain composed.
They failed miserably.
They thought of wives, lovers, even meditation techniques to keep focus. Nothing worked.
Orion stopped before the gate with a gentle smile and asked with casual grace:
"How do I enter the city?"
His voice was like silk tempered with thunder: soft, yet full of authority.
The eldest guard choked on his own saliva.
"T-Ten bronze coins, sir..." he replied, trying not to faint.
Orion handed over the coins with a slight nod. "Thank you."
As he passed through the gate, his silhouette faded like a dream the guards would never have the courage to share with their comrades.
One whispered,
"I think I fell in love..."
The other replied,
"Shut up, Marco."