Aglaya, the lightning flashed across the night, coldly illuminating the endless void. Her cultivation material, cold and hard, like flesh and blood frozen by time, engraved with unspeakable loneliness and desire.
Fear crushed flesh and blood, seventy-four pieces, like countless broken souls trembling in the darkness. Courage tore the chest, ninety-seven pieces, condensed into a silent cry in the night. Glory baptized the body, seventy-three pieces, like the remaining brilliance eroded by frost, thin and sharp.
The nails of the beast coffin, sixty-five pieces, nailed into the coffin of fate, nailing this lonely track. The seeds of thought, the sprouts of manas, and the Alayahua, they are the seeds of nothingness floating in this wasteland, as if waiting for an invisible awakening.
Her exclusive light cone, “weaving time into gold”, is like a dark web, entangled with the cracks of time. The texture of fear, courage, and glory interweaves, swaying between breaking and reorganization, and the seeds and sprouts are the faint light in the cold, weak but firm.
Every breakthrough is a tearing and reshaping. The price of five pieces of fear crushing flesh and blood and four thousand credit points is like a lonely memorial. The hardness of the nails of the beast coffin is like a sealed secret, blocking her past and future. The prison in the stagnant shadow is her silent purgatory.
The materials are piled up like ice, casting her body and also casting her soul. Credit points are like cold wind, penetrating the bone marrow and blowing away the warm afterimage. She wanders in the cracks of time, and her lonely figure is reflected under the endless starlight.
The deposit is fast and indifferent, like the neon lights in the city, flashing cold light, but unable to warm this lonely heart. Aglaya is not just materials and values, she is a silent struggle, the cold boundary between light and darkness.
Her growth is the ultimate confrontation between time and loneliness, the sharpest cold light on the collapsed star railway. Every piece of material is a cold fragment, and every credit point is the remnant of the cold wind. Aglaya, like frozen thunder, is waiting for the moment to be thawed.