Obsidian did not leave immediately.
Before leaving the Obsidian Lair, he had to properly arrange these dragons.
The summons was in the early morning, just as the mist was creeping up the cliffs. He didn't have all the dragons come, only two.
Shadow Wing and Frostis.
In the deepest part of the cave, Obsidian squatted on a rock platform, while Shadow Wing and Frostis stood below him, one on his left and one on his right.
"I'm going away for a while," Obsidian said straightforwardly.
"Where?" Shadow Wing asked.
"To a place you cannot go to now."
'You can go there after you die.'
Obsidian added in his mind.
Then he didn't explain further. He was too lazy to say things like "demiplane" or "divine realm," and there was no need.
"Frostis, I'm leaving the lair to you. Continue to advance the preparations for the Sky City as planned; first, train the flight team, then clear the floating rock layers."
"Yes, My Lord." The old dragon bowed, without hesitation.
Obsidian then turned to Shadow Wing.
"Take two young ones and go find Skala."
Shadow Wing nodded: "Where is he? I went to look for him a few days ago and found he wasn't in his previous location."
Shadow Wing still remembered Tok-Aak.
"He's traveling around ZulDrak. He's been preaching and forming alliances along the way, making quite a stir."
"I'm sending you to boost his presence and ensure his safety. If anyone blocks your path, kill them. If anyone defies you, suppress them. Skala is my representative in the troll world; it would be quite troublesome if he died."
Shadow Wing's gaze remained unchanged, still calm as stone: "Understood."
"By the way," Obsidian looked at the old dragoness, "choose two obedient ones for him, don't bring those who can't even read."
After bowing, Shadow Wing turned and left directly, his steps not fast, but steady with each stride.
Frostis remained standing in place: "Then your doctrine…"
"I don't have a doctrine for now." Obsidian waved his paw, "It's not time yet. Besides, you are not mortals; you don't need a god to manage you every day."
"First, remember one thing—I am your God, not your nanny."
"If you can solve it yourselves, don't bother me. If you can't, I'll back you up."
With that, he slowly rose, his wings spread, and shadow and divine power quietly surged around his body.
"Wait for my return."
The next moment, he shook his body and vanished above the cave, leaving a straight shadow trail that cut through the air, pointing directly to an unseen other end.
After the wind dispersed, there was silence.
True silence.
Obsidian leaped out, passing through a "seam" in the boundary of reality; there was no crack of light, no portal, and not even a sense of spatial tearing.
It was just that the surroundings suddenly became empty, and even the wind disappeared.
The next second, he landed.
What he noticed first was not the environment, but—that feeling of repulsion, it was gone.
The resistance from Azeroth, the friction of rules, the instinctive expulsion by the spatial hierarchy, all completely vanished the moment he entered this realm.
The ground beneath his feet was not solid, but a suspended rock platform.
It was like a corner of a mountain had been cut off, floating alone in the void.
There was no railing at the edge; peering over revealed an endless expanse of black.
It wasn't the color of darkness, but a pure void without such a thing as "color."
Quiet, utterly quiet. Even his divinity calmly adhered to his soul, no longer restless.
He stood there for a full three seconds before his divinity gave a prompt.
"Demiplane Name: Serakhen · Activating"
As the prompt appeared, the surrounding space began to "fill" little by little.
The sky gradually brightened, as if several layers of light mist were slowly gliding within it.
However, there was no sign of the sun in this sky, nor any clear sense of direction.
Light simply existed everywhere, but without a specific source.
Beyond the edge of the floating platform, more "landmasses" began to appear one after another.
These landmasses, whether high or low, straight or slanted, all floated freely in this space in a seemingly unstable yet coordinated manner.
The forms of these structures varied; some resembled a broken altar, as if they had once hosted some sacred ritual;
Others were like skeletons made of rock, with half their rock stripped away by time, exposing hard bones;
And some were merely sharp stone pillars, floating solitary in mid-air, without even clear upper and lower boundaries.
These peculiar structures did not directly touch each other, but every now and then, they would draw closer, as if pulled by an invisible force field.
However, just as they were about to touch, that mysterious force would pull them back to their original positions, maintaining a delicate balance.
Obsidian stood on the first main platform, looking around.
This place had no wind, no life, and no laws.
And no sound.
He tried gently waving his claw; divine power surged out, as if detached from gravity, flowing freely, yet neither spreading nor dissipating.
This was his domain.
But it hadn't "formed" yet.
It waited for him to define it.
Obsidian was silent for a moment, then spread his wings and leaped, gliding towards the next floating platform below.
He needed to choose his future "throne."
After three circles of circling, he locked onto a central floating platform, the only structure in the entire plane without a "broken" feel—its terrain was flat, and its rock sturdy.
As if by destiny, when Obsidian landed on it, he understood that this was the core of the demiplane.
Controlling this place meant gaining control of the demiplane.
He extended his front paw without hesitation.
Divine power flowed from his fingertips, crawling along the surface, gradually covering the entire floating platform, finally converging into a lock-shaped imprint embedded in the rock layer.
At this moment, the entire demiplane finally responded to him—not the response of his divinity, but Serakhen's own "submission."
He felt its essence:
This place—
It was neither a realm of substance nor a domain of souls.
It existed in the Gap between the real world and the Twisting Nether.
It did not entirely belong to the material world, nor entirely to the void.
It was a seam, a critical point, a place where all powers "had not yet decided their allegiance."
Obsidian grinned.
This was good.
As expected of the system's legacy, it was simply perfect.
He didn't need to inherit anyone's rules; he would make his own.
Obsidian stood at the edge of the rock layer, looking down, and saw a clear lake surface gradually appearing beneath the layers of rock.
The lake surface was like a giant mirror, smooth and bright.
However, what this lake surface reflected was not the reflection of light.
But those painful memories deep within Obsidian that he no longer wished to touch.
The feeling was like tossing and turning in bed in the middle of the night, unable to sleep, and involuntarily starting to replay those embarrassing, hard-to-face past events in his mind.
Those past blunders were like unerasable images, replaying over and over in his mind, making it impossible to escape, impossible to let go.
Just as he was about to approach, a golden prompt slowly appeared in his divinity—
"Divine Fire Will Ignite: Requires Divine Authority Confirmation"
"Please choose—"
He paused in mid-air, his dragon eyes slightly narrowed.
The panel did not continue to urge him.
But he knew it was waiting for his choice.