"But he overlooked one thing," the old man said, his face fleetingly touched by pity. "He neglected the natural balance of the universe – every blessing comes with a price."
"So, he failed?" someone asked.
"Not entirely," the old man replied. "He successfully reconstructed his body using the materials he gathered, and his strength skyrocketed. For a time, he became invincible, inheriting the traits of various races. He possessed the elves' harmony with nature and the dragons' magical affinity. However, alongside these benefits, he acquired their drawbacks – the bloodlust of the Beastmen and the immense pride of dragons."
"Not to mention the vast amount of energy his body contained."
The old man's words painted a picture of a being torn apart by conflicting desires and traits. "His mind fractured, pulled in different directions by the characteristics of each race. The strain drove him mad, ultimately leading him to take his own life... though not before he discovered the solution."
Eryndor's face contorted in confusion. "He found the solution, so why kill himself?"
The old man's expression remained somber. "The solution, as he wrote, was 'to become a world of his own.' " Eryndor's mouth hung agape, confusion etched on his face. "And since that was impossible, he killed himself."
The old man gave Eryndor time to process the weight of his words. As the young man's thoughts settled, his eyes still reflected the turmoil within.
"What does this have to do with why we're here?" Eryndor asked, his voice calmer but laced with curiosity.
"Because you're going to succeed where he failed," the old man replied, his words dropping like a boulder into a still pond.
The air seemed to freeze, heavy with an unspoken fate. Eryndor's face contorted in fear. "Grandpa, all I did was annoy you. I don't deserve death for that, do I?"
The old man's expression softened. "Calm down, boy. I told you he found a solution, didn't I?"
"How do you expect me to become a world?" Eryndor asked, confusion etched on his face.
"You already are," the old man replied, his words enigmatic.
Eryndor's confusion deepened. "What do you mean?"
"When he said 'become a world,' he didn't mean it literally. He was referring to finding an object capable of holding energy equivalent to a world. However, the main problem wasn't the energy; it was maintaining balance between the different traits of each race. One needs to embrace their nature without letting it control them."
Eryndor's eyes narrowed. "That still doesn't explain how I'm going to succeed."
The old man's gaze locked onto Eryndor's. "Inside you is a sealed World Origin."
"What's that?"
The old man's words hung in the air as he elaborated: "Every world possesses sentience, and the World Origin is the crystallization of this consciousness. It serves as the fundamental mechanism that governs the world's functioning, while also being the primary source of energy that sustains it."
Eryndor's eyes widened as he processed the old man's words. "You mean... the world is alive?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
The old man's expression turned contemplative. "Alive might not be the right word. Let's just say the world has a consciousness, and the World Origin is its manifestation. It's what gives the world its rhythm, its flow, and its energy."