This world is boundless, there are no frames or limitations in it, it is incredibly huge, having passed millions and billions of kilometers in one direction you will not reach the end.
There are two reasons for this: firstly, you will be killed before you can walk so much. Secondly, this world is truly infinite!
[Loud laughter filled the valley where the most beautiful wild flowers of different types grew]
But there is little funny here, hundreds and thousands of races are fighting for supremacy in the resource zones. Wars are commonplace here, although they can be avoided, but only by one force, the force of diplomacy. Treaties, alliances, unions - these are all the results of diplomacy.
It has long been proven that brute force cannot stop conflicts. And there are living examples of this, for example, let's take the strongest race known to us, the "Dark Dragons", well, who can defeat them? Nobody, but just 100 years ago they were wiped off the face of the earth, no one has seen a single individual for a century, and 3 continents that were under their control were flooded with water, because of the curse, we call it "The Curse of the Dead".
(When all members of the race die, the places that were under their control are flooded with water for many kilometers inland.)
Who destroyed them - it is not known for sure, but there are assumptions, of course. Diplomacy is what everyone wants to come to, fortunately people know how to negotiate, it's a pity that not in our favor. And so, for its 800-year history, humanity has again faced the threat of survival that killed it.
Scientists are more interested in the place where the soul goes after the death of the body. So, imagine, a gray, slightly transparent, but very dense soul flies in one of many possible directions.
"Flew in an unknown direction." - No, it won't work, too crude for such a "flat" story. Fujitora expressed his evaluative opinion. He had the right to do so, since he is the author.
Hmm ... maybe use a different word, or just rewrite everything again? Ahh .. how difficult it is to be a writer. Fujitora leaned back in his chair.
The lamp that was hanging on the ceiling burned out
Sitting at the table and thoughtfully looking at the scraps of paper that carried many meanings that were described in well-known and not very terms. The boy averted his gaze and, looking out the window, it was covered with drops from the rain that had been falling on the street for two days now.
Thunder rumbled outside the window, and the rain did not even think of stopping. The wind washed the surfaces of the trees, and some of them that were higher than the others in the forest could not cope with the pressure exerted on them and broke.
Sad fate of a tall tree.Fujitora said with feigned sadness, rubbing his right eye with his left hand a little
The rain also washed the slopes of the mountain, which so wanted to go down, to see something below the clouds. "Water wears away a stone," but certainly not rocks, the rock would say if it could.
Sometimes rare life turns become more frequent, rewrite statistics, so to speak.
So here, in a place where there were practically never any collapses due to the special shape of the rocks, a collapse happened, huge heaps of stones with clay flew down at a tremendous speed, ramming the hut that stood several tens of meters from the beautifully washed with tears grave of the old man.
Finally, the stones were able to get the opportunity to see the lowlands of the space that people call the "Valley of Wild Flowers". Perhaps this was the first step towards the birth of a new race.