The sun rose powerfully over Eryndor's golden towers, casting a flawless radiance that shimmered through suspended stained glass, celestial bridges, and fields cultivated with an almost sacred precision.
Since the arrival of the Kanar, the empire had transformed.
Where silence once reigned, the sound of life now pulsed in harmony with the land. Streets buzzed with conversation and hurried steps. Markets bubbled with neatly arranged stalls. Magical workshops exuded a misty energy as ancestral artifacts were restored by hands once unaccustomed to power.
Eryndor was blooming.
But for Orion, this was only the beginning.
At the top of the central tower, Orion remained still in meditation. Eyes half-closed, thoughts attuned to the cycles of time.
Then, a gentle light enveloped the space, and the system notified:
『DING』『The Eternal Empire System recommends: Accelerate the flow of time to optimize population growth』
He remained silent for long moments.
The idea was powerful — and dangerous, if applied without discernment. But he trusted in his dimensional architecture, in his own transcendental nature.
With a single gesture, the sky above Eryndor darkened momentarily. As if time itself had held its breath.
Stars twinkled in broad daylight.The wind halted.Birds froze mid-air.
And then, with a whispered command that echoed through the veins of the plane:
"Let the flow of time accelerate within my empire, allowing growth and learning to bloom faster than the outside world."
The world obeyed.
A wave of ethereal energy swept across Eryndor like a translucent veil. Cultivated fields rippled as if answering a call. Academies, temples, streets, and homes pulsed with a soft glow, embracing the new temporal logic.
A new rhythm was established — and with it, an era of silent acceleration.
In the villages and residential sectors, the Kanar felt the shift almost instinctively.Children grew faster — in body, mind, and spirit.They learned languages, techniques, and cultivation doctrines as if absorbing inherited memories.
The elders, once burdened by pain and trauma, rediscovered vitality.Hope turned into action.
Entire families gathered in halls of wisdom spread across thematic districts.Each district, though newly born, already had a soul — forged by care and love.
In the gardens, plants matured in mere days.Their roots were strong.Their fruits, abundant.
In the Library of the Ancients, youths like Lira now led sessions of reading and discovery.
She and others — once barely literate — now debated treatises on alchemy, arcane geometry, and spiritual philosophy.Each shelf was a portal, and they dove into volumes with intellectual hunger.
The libraries began to produce new books — written by the Kanar themselves.They recorded their history, discoveries, and beliefs.
A new culture within the culture was born:The Scholars of Eryndor.
In the academies, trainees practiced in intensified atmospheres, where bodies withstood variable gravity and malleable energy fields.
Hunters became warriors — now in control of their bodies as extensions of will.
They learned to move with lightness, expand perception, defend without aggression, and strike with precision.
Here, combat was not destruction — it was expression.
The symbiosis of strength, wisdom, and essence mastery became the foundation of a new generation.
Meanwhile, artisans and alchemists founded the first Halls of Creation.
They used metals drawn from Eryndor's enchanted soil, resins from immortal trees, and living stones from crystal riverbanks.
Their creations gleamed with spontaneous runes.Everything carried both art and purpose.
To the south of the empire, architects raised observatories that captured astral patterns.The youth documented lunar cycles and learned to embed celestial symbols into structures.
The walls of Eryndor danced beneath living constellations, absorbing stellar wisdom.
Everywhere, Orion watched.
Not with the eyes of a dictator — but like a gardener before seeds bursting with life.
The temporal acceleration did not create haste — it created depth.Each year compressed into many.Each day, a vast field of possibilities.
The Kanar were no longer mere survivors.They were founders.
Their people now held strategic roles — in early councils, as sector chiefs, master instructors, spiritual mentors, and Ether scholars.
Those once voiceless now defined the principles of a new society.
At night, even as time hastened, the sky remained clear.
Eryndor's twin moons danced in cosmic choreography, casting auroras that lit the academies long after sunset.
Orion, atop his palace, remained in constant meditation.
His presence anchored the empire's structure.With each expansion, his aura merged with the rhythm of the plane, ensuring stability.
The time acceleration — a measure that in wrong hands would spell chaos — had become synonymous with prosperity in Eryndor.
Harmony between spirit, body, knowledge, and structure was achieved.For now, Eryndor breathed.
When Orion descended from the heavens to the Central Hall, the golden light radiating from his body softened.
He walked with silent steps.
The people of Eryndor — now in the thousands — paused briefly as he passed.
His ethereal robes fluttered without wind.His eyes held the constant glow of cosmic vastness.A barely perceptible smile lingered on his face as he observed the empire's daily progress.
He stopped at the hanging terrace overlooking the valley of flowers cultivated by the Kanar — now masters in manipulating soil, water cycles, and luminous energy.
There, plants didn't just grow — they listened.They responded to touch and words with colors and vibrations of their own.
"They've learned fast... faster than expected" Orion murmured, mostly to himself.
Eryndor wasn't just grand — it was functional, self-sustaining, and harmonious.
Temporal acceleration allowed young Kanar to condense years of training into weeks.
Some now led spiritual centers.Others coordinated mutual aid networks between sectors.
In an arena, Rikan — now a young man with a firm stance — trained a group of apprentices.
His technique was solid, but his empathy stood out.
He corrected stances with patience, always attentive to doubts, never letting fear take root in his students.
In another district, Lira — surrounded by children — taught ancestral symbols that floated in the air, transforming into teaching materials.
She conveyed not just knowledge — but passion.The children laughed, drawing together in sensory gardens where flowers shifted color based on focus.
At the empire's heart, the markets flourished.
Basic magical items emerged: floating lanterns, climate-adaptive clothing, tools with voice response.
All crafted by the tribe's artisans, now nourished by an ecosystem that celebrated every skill.
The Kanar thrived.
But Orion, in his vast awareness, sensed the outside world stirring once more.
The next night, he ascended effortlessly into the sky.
His body floated to the highest point of the palace's crystal dome.From there, his consciousness expanded.
Immersed between physical and immaterial realms, his senses stretched over ancient forests, desolate deserts, and forgotten fortresses.
He heard muffled conversations.Saw ruins whispering the names of dead gods.Perceived crowds walking toward chaos.
In the world's outermost edges, the desperate wandered aimlessly —Carrying starving children and shattered dreams.
Entire villages were consumed by war, cults, monsters — or sheer abandonment.
Then, his vision was drawn to a village: Shadow Breeze.
Wooden houses covered in moss.Cold chimneys.The stench of despair.
Orion sent no soldiers.No messengers.
He went himself.
His arrival was not triumphant.He walked calmly.As if he had always belonged there.
That first night, he sat near their fires.He spoke not of gods.Nor of the empire.
He listened.
Pale faces shared their pain.Hollow-eyed children watched in silence.
In the days that followed, he visited every home.Touched decayed walls.Examined tainted wells.Felt the wounded souls of those people.
And when all had spoken, he gathered them beneath the dead tree in the square.
There, before dozens of wary eyes, he said:
"I didn't come to save you. You already did that — by surviving. I came only to offer a choice. There is a place... a real place, where dignity is restored. Where suffering is not legacy, and life becomes more than survival."
The words hovered like a promise.
Silence was broken when Rohan — a tall man with slumped shoulders but steady eyes — asked:
"Why now? Why us?"
Orion met his gaze."Because it's time to rewrite history. And yours deserves a new chapter."
On the eighth day, the villagers agreed.
With trembling hands, they carried what little they had left.
And Orion, with a single gesture, tore space before them — opening a golden portal that danced with stars.
As they crossed the threshold, they found Eryndor.
The impact was overwhelming.
Many cried.Some knelt.Others stood speechless, unable to express what they felt.
Orion led them to the Square of Destiny.
There, the Kanar — now hosts and guides — welcomed them with open arms.
Not as superiors, but as kin.
Lira helped the children choose their homes.Rikan explained the sector routes.Ankar, with wisdom, guided the elders of Shadow Breeze to the Council.
Integration began there.
Not forced.But alive.Organic.
Each new family chose their space, offered their skills, shared their story.
In the administrative corridors, Orion analyzed the city's energy flows while the system processed:
『DING』『Population: 10,000 inhabitants』『Suggestion: Promote collective spiritual advancement to stabilize happiness metrics』
He read the data and smiled.
They weren't just numbers.Each name, each face, each step... was shaping a living empire.
That night, seated atop the palace, Orion gazed upon the vastness under moonlight.
Lights danced in the homes.Laughter echoed through alleys.The soft beat of a craftsman's drum vibrated from the eastern sector.
A new people, united by purpose.