Nedrax's wings unfurled in a wide arc, casting a long shadow over the ground.
"Then I will follow you again, Master. I will burn the heavens if you command it."
A slow smile tugged at Fenrir's lips.
"I don't need you to burn the heavens just yet. For now, I need this place."
He looked around the floating realm—the open fields, the suspended islands, the rivers of glowing mana that cut across the skies.
"This will be the foundation of everything to come. My stronghold. My sanctuary. My forge."
Nedrax's voice rumbled with pride.
"It already is. It has always been yours. I've protected it, grown it, shaped it for you."
"I'll need more. Storage spaces. Alchemy labs. Maybe even training fields."
Fenrir said.
A warm wind swept over them, as if the realm itself responded to its master's return.
The ground pulsed faintly beneath Fenrir's feet, as if acknowledging him.
