The stone archway guided him upward, causing the endless plain to vanish. On the second floor, there was no ground—only emptiness. A dark, silent void. Nero drifted within it, his soul-form feeling small and weightless, giving an impression of insignificance.
Then, his consciousness started to shift. It wasn't like moving; it resembled melting and spreading.
He was no longer Nero observing a world. He became the world—or rather, he transformed into the first material, the primal earth, before anything else existed.
He felt himself as a formless, endless mass of potential, drifting in the cosmic dark. It was cold, quiet, and lonely. There was no thought, only a deep, patient existence.
Then, something changed. A spark of will, ancient and immense, stirred within the mass. It was a desire for form. For substance.
This was the birth of Terradon's consciousness. It wasn't a dragon yet. It was the idea of the foundation waking up.
