The Grand Sage of the Chaos Temple stood amidst the radiating heat of the Dragon Elders and the blinding brilliance of the Spirit Lords, yet he seemed to exist in a pocket of perfect stillness.
His white robes didn't flutter, and his eyes, deep as the void between galaxies, remained fixed on Noah.
A thin, dry smile played on his lips, the kind of smile a grandfather might give a particularly ambitious child, or a scientist might give a fascinating new specimen.
"Are you sure, Emperor Noah?" the Grand Sage asked.
His voice was soft, but it carried the weight of a collapsing star.
"The Chaos Temple has watched empires rise from the mud and sink back into it for millions of years. We do not participate in the squabbles of children unless the stakes are... absolute."
Noah didn't even look away from the wine glass he was still casually holding.
He swirled the amber liquid, watching the light catch on the condensation.
