Chapter 3: The Canvas of Creation
By the time the sun dipped into hues of molten amber, Shiro had walked miles across lands that seemed painted from someone else's dream.
Trees here bore fruits of glass, heavy with glowing nectar. Hills rolled like gentle breaths, shifting color as the air changed. Tiny winged creatures — neither bird nor insect — flitted by, leaving trails of luminous pollen. Even the wind felt aware, brushing past him with a curious hush.
Beside him, Hamiel walked in comfortable silence. It wasn't until they reached a high ridge overlooking a vast valley that the angel finally spoke.
"This is Elserune, Shiro — the heartland of Creation."
He gestured outwards. The valley below was a mosaic of impossible biomes: crystalline forests stood beside molten lakes; fields of silver grass bowed under the weight of drifting stars. In the far distance, an entire city seemed to grow like coral from the earth, towers twisting as if still deciding what shape they preferred.
"All of this exists because of Caladros, the God of Creation," Hamiel continued. "He is not a ruler in the sense you'd expect. He doesn't sit on a throne or issue commands. Creation is his breath. Where his essence lingers, the world simply… becomes."
Shiro swallowed, trying to take it all in. "It's… beautiful. But also… unsteady. Like it might all vanish if someone stops imagining it."
Hamiel's lips twitched into something between a smile and a grimace. "That's more insightful than you realize. Elserune is a realm of boundless possibility. Here, thoughts carry weight. Dreams — and nightmares — can take root in the soil. It is a land that rewards inspiration… and punishes carelessness."
They stood there for a time, watching as a school of fish swam through the air itself, scales catching starlight.
Finally, Hamiel let out a sigh, folding his hands behind his back. "Caladros doesn't intervene directly. To him, freedom is sacred. He gifts creation, then steps back to let it flourish or fail. That's why lands like this thrive with wonders — and breed horrors just as easily."
Shiro shivered despite the warm air. "So this is the god I've landed under?"
"One of three," Hamiel reminded him gently. "But yes. For now, you walk on Caladros' canvas. Here, creativity and will shape more than just destiny — they shape reality itself."
He glanced at Shiro, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "And that's why we need to tread carefully. Your karma is… unusual. The wrong thought in the wrong moment could plant seeds we won't want to see grow."
Shiro looked out over the land again — the swirling colors, the dancing lights, the whispering winds — and felt an uneasy thrill crawl up his spine.
"So what happens next?" he asked, voice quiet.
Hamiel's smile returned, this time softer, almost conspiratorial. "Next? I'll explain everything about this land — its laws, its dangers, its hidden wonders — and the true nature of the power sleeping inside you."
But as he turned away, Shiro caught a shadow flit across the angel's face. Hamiel's lips moved in a whisper, too faint for most ears — yet something about this place made words travel strangely.
"This… was not in the plan. I should inform the Lord before this karma anomaly grows any further."
Shiro blinked. "What did you just say?"
Hamiel stiffened. For a fleeting second, his usually calm golden eyes widened — like someone who'd just been caught stepping into forbidden light. Then, almost too quickly, he gave a soft laugh and waved a hand.
"Ah, nothing, nothing. Just thinking aloud. Old habits from… before."
"Before what?" Shiro pressed.
Hamiel hesitated. When he spoke again, his voice was gentle, but his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "Before I ever guided lost souls in the service of the Pale King. It's nothing you need worry over right now."
"Pale King…? You mean—"
"All in good time." Hamiel cut him off lightly, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. "For tonight, rest. Tomorrow, I'll begin showing you how this world truly works. And perhaps… how to survive it."
As they turned back down the ridge, Shiro couldn't help but notice how Hamiel's wings — so brilliant a moment ago — seemed darker now, feather-tips shadowed with something that looked almost like ash.
As Shiro followed Hamiel down from the ridge, the dreamlike scenery continued to unfold — but now, it all felt off.
The glowing grass seemed to lean away from him.
The drifting fish in the sky shimmered — then vanished
the moment he looked at them directly.
A tree that had once bloomed with silver leaves stood barren now.
He glanced at Hamiel, whose radiant wings were now noticeably duller than before.
"This place feels… fake," Shiro muttered.
Hamiel didn't stop walking.
"Not fake. Reactive," he corrected. "Elserune reflects thought, memory, emotion — and intent. You carry all three in volatile doses. The land responds… poorly."
Shiro said nothing, but something pulsed faintly in his chest — like an old wound trying to remember how it formed.
Eventually, they came upon a small lake — its waters a deep violet, surrounded by weeping flowers made of glass. A lone crescent moon hovered in the sky above, unmoving.
"We'll rest here for the night," Hamiel said, motioning to a smooth patch of moss. "You will truly see how It begins…