In Zir's world, a world of ancient, vibrant magic, the demigod was not a creature of flesh and blood, but a being of immense, unmoving power.
It was the World Tree, a colossal, living monument whose roots burrowed deep into the planet's core, and whose branches scraped the heavens.
Its consciousness was so vast that it felt less like a mind and more like the heartbeat of the world itself.
This demigod was a silent protector, its presence a shield that warded off any demonic incursion.
Any demon fool enough to attack Zir's world would not face a sword or a spell, but the full, devastating force of a planet's will.
"You never mentioned your world was this good," Sunny said, his voice a genuine whisper of awe.
He was not joking.
Zir's world was a marvel of cosmic synergy, a perfect, self-sustaining ecosystem where every part worked in harmony.
The two races were a perfect example.
The elves, born from the very mana veins of the World Tree, were masters of magic.
