Nyxander's body was seated upon the folded skeletal leg, its ancient bones cold beneath him. His face looked faint and pale, as though the weight of unseen thoughts had drained his strength. Slowly, his eyelids lifted, heavy as if pulled upward by reluctant strings. He moved his hands away from the open palms of the skeleton, each motion stiff and strained, his joints aching as though time itself had pressed down on his body.
"So the Celestial and Demon races created planets only to destroy them," he murmured inwardly, his thoughts drifting like fog. "Then my planet wasn't the first… and it won't be the last." His brow furrowed. "No. There must be a reason behind this. This has to be connected to the Universal Pill the old man mentioned in the restaurant."
Still lost in thought, he sensed a presence drawing near. Instinctively, his gaze lifted. His father was approaching.
