The auction hall plunged into absolute silence — a stillness so profound it seemed to tear through the very fabric of reality.
The auctioneer's gavel still trembled in the air, like thunder suspended in time.
No one breathed.
No one dared move a muscle.
The auctioneer's hesitant, resounding words rang out less like confirmation and more like a divine decree:
"SOLD! The Capsule of Destiny now belongs to the Master of the SSSVIP Chamber!"
The announcement hung in the air like a mystical mist, echoing through golden walls and engraving itself in the hearts of every cultivator present.
A collective whisper coursed through the hall — not a sound, but a shared tremor of disbelief and reverence.
Billions of gold coins.
A sum so vast it felt less like commerce and more like living legend.
Orion rose.
A simple gesture — yet it carried the weight of an eclipse.
Light subtly bent around him, and for a fleeting moment, even space itself seemed to hold its breath.
His steps toward the center of the hall were deliberate, each one heavy with the gravity of countless eras.
He did not move like a competitor, but like a primordial entity — a living fragment of Creation itself.
His gaze swept across the room.
Not arrogant.
But absolute.
He did not belong to that arena.
He was beyond it.
Beside him, Lyra watched, heart pounding.
Her pride didn't stem from the spectacle or the victory — but from silent confirmation:
Orion wasn't just powerful.
He was inevitable.
"You actually did it..." she whispered, eyes glowing with held-back emotion.
"I knew you were strong, but this... this is grandeur."
Orion nodded, lips curling into a half-smile, enigmatic and quiet.
"Sometimes, mortals need a glimpse of what lies beyond their understanding."
The Capsule of Destiny, wrapped in pulsing runic light, detached itself from its pedestal — as if recognizing its true master.
It floated slowly into Orion's hands.
At his touch, a subtle wave of energy rippled through the hall — not a burst, not a spectacle.
It was something deeper.
Reality itself resonated with Orion's presence.
A vibration that reached even the farthest corners of Elysius.
Later, in the reserved chamber...
The atmosphere had transformed into intimate silence — broken only by the soft hum of the Capsule spinning between Orion's fingers.
Its light danced on the walls like the reflections of a bottled star, making the surfaces pulse gently, as if breathing.
Lyra sat cross-legged beside him, eyes fixed on the relic emanating power.
"So... what do you think it actually does?" Orion asked, genuine amusement twinkling in his eyes as he glanced at her.
"Something grand," she whispered in awe.
"Something that reshapes destinies. Just like its name says."
Orion tilted his head, thoughtful.
"Or maybe... it turns someone into a magnificent dragon.
Golden wings.
Cosmic flames.
Roars that bend space itself."
Lyra laughed — a clear melody that instantly dissolved the lingering tension in the air.
"Only if I get to ride you as my personal steed!"
"Humiliating... but acceptable," he replied with mock resignation, one corner of his mouth lifting.
"For you, Lyra, I'd even consider becoming a unicorn."
She laughed again, leaning comfortably against his arm.
"You're impossible, you know that?"
Orion watched her for a moment longer.
Not for her words — but for how the Capsule's ethereal light danced in her deep green eyes.
For the contagious softness of her laugh.
For her simple, comforting presence.
This, he thought, was the real miracle.
He extended his free hand, palm facing upward.
"Want to create something?"
"They say the Capsule shapes realities. That it can weave pure desire into entire worlds.
We just need to... wish together."
Lyra raised an eyebrow, curiosity lighting up her face.
"Like... a realm made entirely of magical desserts?"
"Exactly."
His eyes sparkled.
"With tiny fairies riding cake-mountains, flying on floating spoons."
"And you conjuring rivers of eternal chocolate?" she added, a mischievous smile on her lips.
"With you crowned as the Eternal Sugar Queen," he confirmed, grin widening.
"Deal?"
Without hesitation, she placed her hand atop his, fingers intertwining with his.
"Always."
Their interlaced fingers touched the Capsule's smooth, cold surface.
Instantly, it pulsed with renewed intensity — a gentle, pure light enveloped them like liquefied starlight.
The world around them blurred, collapsing inward.
Colors dissolved into hypnotic spirals.
The ceiling vanished — replaced by an inverted sky of pink clouds and constellations dancing in unknown patterns.
Time... ceased to matter.
They crossed a threshold — entering a plane unbound by known laws.
A space suspended between reality and pure imagination.
Where mutual affection served as catalyst for creation itself.
While Orion and Lyra explored realities shaped by affection...
...the Eryndor Empire followed its own inexorable path of growth.
The temporal distortion maintained by Orion meant a single month outside equated to years within Eryndor's domains.
Under this acceleration, civilization flourished at a pace unimaginable elsewhere.
Even in the emperor's physical absence, his immaterial presence remained indelible — etched into every temple raised, felt in every bountiful harvest, revered in every birth.
The temple walls pulsed with a tangible, residual energy.
The air still carried subtle traces of his unwavering will.
Year 15, Day 3 of the Third Month – Eryndor Imperial Calendar.
The empire's foundations stood firm as stone.
But its true strength bloomed in less visible places:
In knowledge passed down through generations.
In spiritual cultivation refined with each cycle.
In the deepening understanding of the Taos.
With natural expansion came schools, libraries overflowing with scrolls, and martial academies.
Yet above all stood the Taoist Halls of Comprehension — sacred spaces constructed by Orion's manifested will, where the Fundamental Laws of Creation could be felt, almost tangible in the air.
Each hall was guided by an instructor — a serene, omniscient manifestation of Orion's own Tao.
Their words didn't merely teach — they reshaped perception itself.
Within one such sacred corridor, the walls pulsed with a constant gray-silver light.
Instructor Jhon, a figure of unshakable calm, stood before dozens of disciples kneeling in deep reverence.
His voice flowed — calm and eternal:
"Many believe, with fear, that death is the ultimate end.
But death is merely the sacred silence between two songs.
Not annihilation — but the inevitable transition."
As he spoke, the spiritual mist within the hall coalesced — forming vivid images:
The first breath of a newborn.
The serene fall of an aged warrior.
A flower blooming in glory, then wilting in seconds.
"The Tao of Death does not teach destruction.
It teaches acceptance.
It reveals that every cycle holds its birth, bloom, decay, and return.
And the true cultivator..."
His voice lowered into a powerful whisper.
"...becomes the cycle itself."
A young girl named Sera — only twelve, but with eyes far older than her age — timidly raised her hand.
"Instructor Jhon... if everything dies one day... why do we try so hard to cultivate? What's the point?"
Jhon moved with grace, kneeling to meet her at eye level.
"Because by deeply understanding death, Sera... you learn the unique value of life.
By studying the end, you learn to cherish every moment of the now."
"Cultivation is realizing that eternity doesn't lie in escaping death..."
His wise eyes locked onto hers.
"...but in becoming someone whose will, whose legacy, outlives even oblivion."
He gently touched the cold stone floor.
Immediately, a small black flower sprouted — woven of shadows and pure threads of light.
"This flower will live only ten seconds.
Yet in that brief span... it will live with more intensity and beauty than many who ignore their own mortality."
The class fell into reverent silence.
And as the black flower dissolved into particles of light, so too did the innocent doubt in Sera's heart.
While the temples pulsed with their people's silent transformation...
...the Capsule of Destiny's distant influence began to echo across the threads that linked Eryndor to its creator.
It didn't merely shape the shared dream of Orion and Lyra — its resonance amplified, radiating through the very cosmic loom.
Ancient prophecies, long asleep in dusty scrolls, aligned like divine gears.
Children were born manifesting extraordinary talents — whispered as blessings of fate.
Common dreams turned into vivid premonitions.
The empire breathed deeper now — its roots touching, with growing awareness, the vibrant foundations of Creation itself.