It is a memory of a very distant beginning--
It was the original creation of this world, the billions of times it has been repeated.
[...]
'There are not enough bereaved voices to tell all. My sweet child, to you, my failures. I must tell you of the end of the world of Elenesia.'
The world of true white is melting away.
It was like snow, gentle and soft.
Soon, behind the pure white world, a desolate land appeared.
Ravaged towns and villages, dry seas, withered forests, and crumbling mountains.
The end of the world, where there is no sign of life, is thrust before the girl's eyes.
[...]
My dear child. Please listen. This is the history of the world that we, the Gods of Creation, have repeated. A fairy tale of the gods passed down from mother to daughter, from generation to generation.
The silver-haired girl listens with a bird's eye view of the desolate world.
She listens to her mother's voice, which has long since disappeared.
Elenesia, the creator goddess, created the world. A world full of greenery, rich and beautiful. Various kinds of life lived there. In order to stabilize the world, we must maintain the consistency of order. Especially if destruction and creation are not equal, the world will not circulate, and the root will fall outside the framework of reincarnation.
The barren world is sprinkled with faint lights.
It must be the light of the life that has ended, the light of roots.
I kept order. I have tried hard to maintain the alignment of destruction and creation. But in the world of Elenesia, the seeds of conflict did not cease. People continued to fight, and little by little the world began to perish. The end result is what you see now.
