As he stood on the balcony of his castle, Hiroshi surveyed the vast, serene surroundings. The castle floated effortlessly in the void between the realms, an island of tranquility in a sea of nothingness. The atmosphere had a calming quality, offering peace and solace in a way that few places could. Leaning against the stone railing, he exhaled deeply, allowing the cool wind to play gently on his skin and rustle his robes.
The silence of the void amplified his thoughts, giving him the space to reflect on the System's blunt assertion. "My existence isn't important. How strange," he muttered to himself, the words echoing softly in the empty air.
As he pondered this revelation, Hiroshi couldn't help but feel a deep sense of irony. Here he was, the Creator of the Worlds, capable of bending reality to his will, yet the very essence that powered his abilities seemed to diminish his own importance. It was a paradox that both troubled and fascinated him.
