Whoosh!
In the silent white space, a figure suddenly appeared.
It was Ventair, who had just narrowly escaped death and had returned to his own space, a few drops of cold sweat running down his forehead, his heart beating very hard and fast as if it could jump out at any moment, his body panting.
Ventair floated in the white space, trying to regulate his breathing and calm down, looking at his still slightly trembling hands.
He laughed at himself, thinking:
'Luckily I was quick-witted enough to teleport back here'
After stabilizing his body, returning to this space, he felt the familiar comfort, protection and safety that the outside space could not bring.
'This place feels like home, so warm…' Ventair thought to himself.
Then he recalled the moments just now as well as the battle he had witnessed.
Images flashed through his mind: giant armies of countless races charging at each other, tearing and killing each other.
With them were beings of superhuman strength, punches that distorted space, slashes that contained concepts.
It was a scene of destruction and creation beyond human imagination.
He said bitterly:
"Each of those soldiers... just a glance would be enough to kill me. No - not even a glance."
"Not to mention the beings who could stand at the head of each race... they had surpassed every limit I had ever imagined. They were true gods, the ones who held the fate of everything."
A shiver ran down his spine. The horror of his own weakness before those great beings still smoldered.
But it wasn't fear that made him flinch.
Intertwined with it - was a much stronger emotion.
The excitement
It flared up like a hot fever, spreading throughout every corner of his body. Like a vein of water soaking a dike, pushing back the fear and trembling he had just experienced.
He felt like he had awakened a primal thirst, a fire of ambition he had never known he possessed.
He began to look at this white space, his eyes glowing with a fiery light, not a reflected light but a light from within himself as if to reveal the desire burning like a flame.
Then he laughed, a dry but dreamy laugh
"Ha…hahahahahahaha…"
He said in a cheerful voice:
"I want to be like them. I want to become strong like them."
"I want to possess… a mighty army, like them… An army that can shake the outer universe, change all realms."
His hand pressed, the space gently vibrated as if responding to his words.
In his mind, he saw a line of warriors lined up across the world, stretching to infinity, their footsteps like thunder into existence, along with their unified shouts that shook everything ringing in his ears
.
He wished that it was not just an image, a fantasy scene, but wished that it would become a reality, a second future that he longed to reach.
Not only that, he also realized that there was no vast space outside the universe, the war he saw was not the whole thing.
There were definitely other armies out there, even higher existences, ungraspable concepts, unimaginable powers.
His heart was beating fast, now not because of fear but because of a crazy desire. His breathing seemed to be mixed between excitement and joy, between innocence and awareness.
Opening up a huge ambition for him.
His hand clenched, tightly, feeling every strength, every desire he had in his palm.
"I will create an army. My own. A great force, loyal... and loving. For my destiny. For my purpose. And most of all - for the love they have for me, a pure, unselfish love." He said.
Then he loosened his hand, his first thought now was what kind of army should I create? What race?
Then suddenly a light flashed in his mind
And then, the image appeared clearly in his mind - not of nameless warriors, but of beings with pure white wings.
Radiant, pure faces, gentle but determined eyes, a brilliant halo surrounding their bodies like the morning light.
Angels.
In the last war, he had never seen them in the last war.
Not a single one.
"Why aren't there angels? Where are they? Or did they never exist in this vast Outerverse?"
He wondered if they weren't present in the battle, or if they never existed.
There was a pause. He tried to search for an answer in the knowledge that had just been transmitted, but there was no information about the existence of angels as he imagined.
Then, the idea exploded in him like thunder in the quiet night, shining brightly like a new star being born in the universe.
But right now, he didn't care if they existed or not.
"If they exist, I'll do my best to capture them, even though it's almost impossible."
But if they don't exist
"—then I'll create them."
Ventair's eyes were shining, no longer the eyes of a dreamer, but of someone who had found his goal.
He leaned forward slightly, like someone who understood his destiny, who saw the path ahead more clearly than ever.
In the eternal white light of the soul space, he built his own destiny.
The idea of an army of angels kept appearing in his mind.
"An army of angels, absolutely loyal to me, they will be the embodiment of beauty, purity, and power."
"And above all - they will love me, as I loved them - loved the models, the images, every little dream in that cold room years ago..."
He laughed softly, no longer dry - but warm, deep in his chest.
A smile of a child who saw his dream coming to fruition, a smile of a god about to create his own world.
The loneliness and isolation that had haunted him throughout his mortal life now seemed to vanish, replaced by a great purpose.
He raised his head, his eyes looking up at the endless white space.
The space of his soul seemed to fluctuate in response to his will.
He, who had not long been an ordinary man, now found himself becoming more ambitious:
"I will create my own heaven. I will be the supreme God, loved and worshiped by the most perfect creatures in the universe."
That thought did not stop as a distant dream. It surged in his blood. It was like a fire burning under his skin, lighting up every corner of his soul.
"...My angels will not be copies of any myth or religion. They will be created by my ideas, my thoughts. They will be unique creatures, bearing my mark."
Ventair pursed his lips, his eyes seemed to be drawing shapes in the air with his primitive imagination, creating every line, every perfect detail for the creatures in his dreams.
"...Not just beautiful. Not just strong. They must live, must know how to love, know how to be sad, know how to laugh."
A thin breeze passed by his shoulder, not the wind of the material world, but the reaction of this space.
The spirit space did not need to be commanded, it would bend itself according to its master's will, like a hand ready to mold everything according to its master's wishes.
"...One by one. One by one. I will create them. I will create a new race, an Angelic empire that has never existed in any universe."
"They will be my companions, my warriors, and the lovers, the wives I have always wanted."
He vowed and was determined to do it, no matter how many difficulties and challenges lay ahead.