Lucien returned to his divine energy core.
Lucien did not hesitate.
If he was going to create Law Books, then the first could only be one thing.
Creation.
The Law of Creation was not borrowed. Not gifted. Not stolen from drops or scrolls.
It was earned.
Every structure he had built. Every construct he had refined. Every world he had shaped inside his core had carved understanding directly into him. This Law was not something he repeated.
It was something he embodied.
Lucien steadied his breath.
Starlit Cohesion activated quietly, spreading the coming strain across his spiritual lattice before it could gather into fractures.
Then he reached out.
A blank parchment floated before him.
And Lucien began to write.
Not with ink.
With understanding.
Imprint Manifestation unfolded.
The first phrase appeared slowly, as if the parchment resisted being burdened with something so fundamental.
The words did not glow.
They did not burn.
They settled.
