Inside the inheritance site of the God of Space, Astraeus.
The chamber stretched into an endless abyss where up and down ceased to exist.
Platforms of translucent, crystalline rock drifted in absolute stillness, anchored by colossal chains forged of ancient spatial glyphs that pulsed with silver-white brilliance.
Far below and infinitely above, swirling nebulas spun in quiet majesty, their cosmic tides weeping trails of pulverized starlight that illuminated the grand, silent vault.
Shen Haoran stood with his hands tucked loosely behind his back, draped in sweeping, midnight-black robes embroidered with nine-clawed golden dragons that seemed to slumber beneath the surface of the fabric.
His tall, imposing frame was as motionless as a primordial monolith, his chiseled face carved from primeval ice.
A few loose strands of his golden hair framing his golden eyes that burned with the terrifying, bottomless depth.
