The first thing the twins noticed was the silence. Not the peaceful kind, but the heavy, expectant quiet that settled whenever something older than time itself began watching.
The training plateau they arrived at did not resemble any part of Gaia Paradise they had seen before. There were no floating spires, no radiant rivers, no gentle winds. Instead, the space was a wide, circular expanse of smooth white stone surrounded by nothing—no sky, no horizon, only a pale, seamless void stretching infinitely outward.
Varael stepped forward first, his cloak trailing as though gravity did not fully apply to him. "This is a conceptual plane," he said. "A place stripped of distractions. No mana. No dreamflow. No divine resonance leaking in from any realm. Just blank existence."
Lysera followed with a warm smile that gently contradicted the stark emptiness around them. "We brought you here because today's lessons require absolute focus. You are not yet ready to shape anything. Your sparks are still settling. Your bodies still adjusting. But you must understand the foundation of creation long before you touch it."
Vorun circled the twins slowly, his footsteps echoing like distant thunder. "To create a Divine Kingdom, you must first become capable of holding one. Your bodies, your minds, your sparks… must all align. A kingdom reflects its god. If the god is unstable, the kingdom breaks. If the god is unfocused, the land warps. If the god is overwhelmed, the realm collapses."
Dante felt an uncomfortable twist in his chest. "So even thinking about shaping something too early could—"
"Destroy you," Vorun finished simply.
Anarissa's wings flickered with nervous light. "Then why start this part of our training now?"
Lysera rested a hand on her shoulder. "Because you must understand the theory long before you put it into practice. If we wait until you are ready to shape a kingdom and only then begin teaching you… you will not be ready."
Varael lifted one hand, and the stone beneath their feet rippled like water. Lines etched themselves across the ground—spirals, circles, and branching patterns that looked almost organic.
"This," he said, "is the conceptual map of a Divine Kingdom before form, before substance. A blueprint. Not of the land, but of the self."
Dante frowned. "A blueprint of… me?"
"Yes," Varael replied. "And of your sister. Every god has one. The shape of your being determines the shape of your first kingdom. And in your case—"
He tapped the center symbol. It pulsed with silver and violet.
"—you are far from simple."
Lysera stepped forward. "A Divine Kingdom is not created outward. It is created inward first. You shape the realm within your soul, and only then do you release it into the cosmos."
Anarissa tilted her head. "So it's like… imagining a world until it becomes real?"
Lysera smiled. "Far more than imagination. You anchor concepts, laws, beliefs, instinct, memory, divinity, and authority. All the things that define you."
Vorun's gaze sharpened. "And that is why you two cannot shape anything yet."
Dante blinked. "Because we're still changing."
"Correct," Vorun said. "Your Authorities are moving targets. Your bloodlines are still awakening. Your talents are still appearing. Even your Divine Bodies are transforming in response to your mortal avatars. Nothing about you is stable yet."
Anarissa glanced downward, her golden aura flickering. "If we tried now…"
"Your realms would reflect your instability," Varael said. "Which is dangerous for gods, catastrophic for newborn realms, and fatal for divine inhabitants."
Dante let out a slow breath. "So what can we do today?"
Lysera gestured toward the etched ground. "You learn the first and most important principle. The core law of creation."
Vorun raised his staff. "A Divine Kingdom is an extension of your essence. A mirror of your truest self."
Varael stepped forward. "So tell us. Without thinking—without filtering—without fear…"
He looked Dante directly in the eyes.
"What is the first thing you feel when you imagine a world born from your existence?"
Dante froze.
For a moment, nothing came.
Then—softly—something stirred behind his ribs.
Moonlight.
Quiet shadow.
A vast, drifting dreamscape.
A silver horizon where nothing hurt and everything breathed freely.
And beneath it, a pulse of Oblivion—cold, steady, honest—carving away what did not belong.
"I feel…" Dante's voice roughened. "A place where the mind can rest. Where dreams aren't dangerous. Where light and darkness aren't enemies. A world that feels… alive, but gentle. A place that heals."
Lysera's smile warmed. Varael's eyes softened. Even Vorun nodded approvingly.
"And you, Anarissa?" Varael asked.
Her breath hitched, but she closed her eyes and let the answer rise.
Warmth.
Sunrise.
Life blooming.
A sky filled with golden fire, radiant but soft.
A world where nothing withered unless it chose to.
A realm where life was free to grow beyond limits.
"A world of beginnings," she said. "A world that breathes hope. A sunlit sanctuary that doesn't burn, but nurtures."
Vorun closed his eyes. "Good. Very good."
Lysera stepped closer. "These visions are the seeds of your future kingdoms. Not shapes. Not landscapes. Feelings. Essence. Instinct."
Varael snapped his fingers, and the etchings on the ground swirled, shifting into new shapes that echoed the twins' spoken visions.
"You are not shaping anything yet," he said. "But you are learning what kind of gods you are."
Dante watched the patterns glow—his silver and violet curling into soft spirals, Anarissa's gold blooming outward like flowers.
"So this is only the beginning," he murmured.
Lysera nodded. "Yes. A beginning. Nothing more."
Vorun stepped forward and rested a heavy hand on Dante's shoulder. "When your bodies stabilize, when your talents settle, when your Authorities cease fluctuating—then we will teach you how to give form to these visions."
Varael added, "And only after that will you take the next step: shaping land."
Anarissa exhaled. "So for now… control."
Lysera smiled. "Control. Understanding. Patience."
Dante straightened. "Then we'll learn."
Vorun's expression turned faintly amused, as though he already knew learning would not be a simple path.
"You will," he said. "Because you must."
The void shimmered around them.
The conceptual plane faded.
And the twins followed their mentors back into Gaia Paradise—
carrying the first real glimpse of the worlds they would one day create.