The pitch-black rifts interlaced across the illusory Sea of Stars.
If one were not attuned to the Space Law, each of these spatial rifts could severely injure a warrior of Legendary Rank.
Yet, that dazzling golden figure traversed the pitch-black lightning effortlessly.
Myriad bolts of light-devouring, furious lightning exploded beside her, yet left not a single trace upon her.
Eventually, the Golden Elf reached the palace gates.
CREAK.
The bronze gates slowly swung open.
CLACK. CLACK.
Hathaway, in her high heels, walked step by step into the vast palace.
The interior was not as bleak and desolate as the Golden Elf had imagined. Quite the opposite—the entire hall was bright and brimming with life.
Hathaway looked up to see, high on the palace dome, a single, bright star casting a soft glow.
The Golden Elf gently extended her hand. Soft light, like dawn, fell from the high-flung star onto her palm, carrying a faint warmth.
Compared to the sun Hathaway remembered, this star was much smaller, yet she could clearly feel that the light spilling onto her palm was, in principle, identical to sunlight.
Did he create a new sun in his own world?
The Golden Elf scrutinized the star above the dome.
She sensed the Core of the Furnace within it, woven from magictech know-how and alchemical arrays, a heart that glowed like daylight.
A slight smile emerged on her usually frosty face.
It seems ten years haven't been completely wasted.
She took a step forward and turned a corner.
Before her eyes lay a Bright World. In the brilliant sunlight, distant snow-capped mountains appeared sacred and majestic.
The sound of trickling streams reached her ears. Nearby lay a lake and grasslands, with forests further beyond. By the lake sat a simple yet elegant lakeside manor.
The air carried the fragrance of flowers. Hathaway turned her head to see a sea of pure white flowers by the lake, swaying in the wind.
With knowledge encompassing the entirety of the Black Tower Great Library, she easily recognized the species of the pure white blossoms before her.
Frost-tongue Flowers, a variety found only near Northern Territory Ceylon.
Next to the flower field stood a small wooden sign, a line of pale-gold text inscribed upon it.
"Enola and Shiayar's Frost-tongue Flower Field."
The Golden Elf gazed at the sign in the flower field for a long moment, then let out a soft chuckle.
She crossed the quiet grassland along an inconspicuous path, arriving at the lakeside manor.
The Golden Elf pushed open the door. Inside the spacious living room, the fireplace was unlit. Fruitwood for kindling was neatly stacked nearby, exuding a delicate fragrance.
"Teacher, you've arrived even sooner than I anticipated."
A clear voice echoed in the living room.
The black-haired, black-eyed young man rose from the other side of the long table to greet his teacher.
Hathaway lowered her golden eyes, carefully observing the young man before her—her only disciple.
He no longer possessed the sharp, soaring spirit and exuberant vitality of his sixteen or seventeen-year-old self.
Most notably, the blade-like keenness in his ink-black eyes had vanished, replaced by an unfathomable depth reminiscent of the silent night sky.
Shiayar stood up and fetched a ceramic tea set from a nearby cupboard.
"Teacher, which tea would you like? From planting and picking to air-drying and final curing, Ennie and I handled the entire process ourselves."
The Golden Elf looked at the tea canisters. These were varieties unknown on the Western Continent, so even with her vast knowledge, she couldn't discern their quality.
So she nodded slightly. "Anything will do."
"Teacher, do you realize 'anything will do' is often the most difficult request to fulfill?"
Shiayar sighed in mock exasperation, selecting a canister of black tea from the cupboard.
Then, using the standard Phoenix Three Nods technique, he brewed a cup of tea for himself and for the Golden Elf before him.
Hathaway picked up the steaming teacup and took a sip. "I thought you would live like an ascetic, meditating your days away in some gloomy palace."
"But instead—"
She glanced out the window at the verdant hills and clear waters, a veritable paradise of a dwelling.
Ten years of ascetic practice? This looks more like a vacation.
"Well," Shiayar also sipped his tea, a faint smile on his lips. "If I were alone, I might indeed have become as lonely and given to despair as you suggested, Teacher, wasting these ten years in this palace beyond history's reach."
"Fortunately—I had Ennie with me."
His words paused slightly.
"This place wasn't like this at first. It was just a monotonous metal palace."
"It was she who, using the Authority of the Sacred Spear's 'Anchor of Storms that Binds the World,' severed fragments of drifting worlds from the surrounding Void. She then merged these world fragments into the residual Imaginary Zone, thereby expanding the palace's originally minuscule space."