The last thread of Origin was severed, transforming into scattered starlight.
In that shattered starlight, Shiayar heard a long, drawn-out sigh.
"You know, don't you, how many attempts it will take to wait for this tiny miracle to happen?"
"This isn't just about decades, centuries of trifling efforts."
"The length of time might be ten thousand years, maybe a hundred thousand years..."
"Or perhaps, even longer."
"Moreover, to maintain your existence without being obliterated by the Corrective Force during this process, you must remain conscious at all times and never fall asleep."
"Maintaining conscious awareness, wandering for millennia in a world devoid of anything but Darkness."
"How many years have you actually lived thus far in your life?"
"Even so, do you not regret it?"
Shiayar did not directly answer the question from the soul's imprint.
He merely remained silent, watching the final strands of scattered starlight before him.
After a long pause.
