While the crowd at A.G.R.A. was still buzzing about the mysterious Carver and the potential catastrophic warnings, an ancient figure, his skin wrinkled like tree bark, emerged from a workshop hidden within the market.
It was Old Man Orin, who was rumored to have once served as an apprentice to a low-grade Versatile Carver decades ago. His eyes stared intently at the sky, where the first space-time signatures of the approaching guests were beginning to appear like cracks in glass.
"He is coming soon," the old man's voice was hoarse, echoing with reverence and fear. "And you don't understand... true Carvers never walk naked like beggars in the dust."
He turned to the Black Storm group, who were listening with serious expressions.
"Every true Versatile Carver, when moving and crafting, is enveloped by an 'Archetype Body'—a giant energy model, a three-dimensional sketch of their perfect idea. It is their armor, their workshop, and their tool."
Old Man Orin raised his trembling fingers, drawing an image in the air with chalky light.
"The higher the rank, the larger the 'Archetype Body'. An apprentice Carver might only have a model a few meters tall, enough to chip away at rocks. But a Master... their model can be as tall as a mountain, or even a star."
"Why do they need such a thing?" Ember asked, her eyes fixed on the fading drawing.
"Two reasons," Old Man Orin explained. "First, to contain. Every thought, every gesture of a high-level Carver carries terrifying destructive or creative power. The 'Archetype Body' absorbs all energy leaks from them, like a giant filter net, preventing their pure will from shattering the surrounding reality. It turns a potential Big Bang explosion into a gentle pop like a soap bubble."
"And the second reason?" Teron voiced with a curious beep.
"To CRAFT," Old Man Orin said, his voice lowering with awe. "The Archetype Body is not just a shell. It is a perfect manufacturing machine, a multi-dimensional forge. When a Carver wants to repair a dying star, he doesn't need to weld the broken pieces. He only needs to envelop the star within his 'Archetype Body'. Inside that space, the physical laws he dictates will reign. Time, space, matter... all become clay in his hands. He can extinguish a supernova explosion like blowing out a candle, or reweave broken space-time threads like a skilled weaver."
He looked straight at Ember, his gaze piercing. "It is said that the highest-level Grand Masters, like the soon-to-arrive Kael'thar, possess 'Archetype Bodies' so vast they can envelop an entire small galaxy. And within the palm of that Archetype Body, containing its energies, he can... 'Recraft the Universe'. Kael'thar does not need to destroy to create. Kael'thar only needs to think, and everything will be rearranged according to his will."
A heavy silence fell. Old Man Orin's explanation made the threat named Kael'thar clearer and more terrifying than ever. Kael'thar was not coming to wage war. He was coming to repair, or recreate, and in the process, everything on the Garbage-Dragon—including them—could be "adjusted" to fit his "perfect idea" without being consulted.
Right at that moment, the entire Trash-Dragon shuddered gently, completely different from the chaotic landings before. The light from the artificial stars suddenly stabilized, all noise ceased. From the void above A.G.R.A., a form began to manifest.
It was not a ship, nor a creature. It was a sketch made of blazing golden light, a giant humanoid figure with unbelievably perfect proportions. It had no details, only the basic lines of a body, but each of those lines contained a universe of moving mathematical and geometric symbols. The "Archetype Body" of Kael'thar was gradually materializing.
And it was expanding... expanding endlessly... until it blotted out the entire sky.
They didn't need to guess how much energy his landing would generate. Because not a single bit of energy would escape. Everything would happen in perfect and terrifying silence, within the palm of this god-like craftsman.