Chapter 402

Although Dorothy had previously repaired the Rabbit World, strictly speaking, that was not creation.

The Rabbit World had died, but because it had been so short a time, its laws were merely weakened and damaged, not entirely erased; what Dorothy had done before was merely patchwork, nothing compared to true creation from nothing.

Now, to realize her envisioned magical world, the Zhaimonv had to seriously consider how to truly create a world.

Even though witches, as the foremost of natural disasters and gods to weaker races, still found creation exceedingly difficult.

That was the power reserved only for Sages, those near-omniscient masters capable of forging a world alone.

Though Dorothy, as the second-generation Demon King, possessed the potential of a Sage, she had yet to grow into it—she could only be called promising; for now, creation was still far beyond her.

But no matter, Rome wasn't built in a day; though she couldn't yet accomplish creation, that didn't stop her from beginning preparations and experiments toward that ultimate goal.

Since returning from the Rabbit World, she had been pondering and digesting that great inspiration, wondering where to begin creation.

For this, Dorothy instinctively recalled the myths she'd heard in her past life—like Pangu cleaving the heavens or God saying, "Let there be light."

She had once tried imitating those two creation deities, wondering whether to swing an axe first or solemnly declare, "Let there be light."

Unfortunately, she was merely a witch, not a primordial deity; though she did possess the authority of word-as-law, that pitiful ability could only be used for magic tricks—for now, it had no practical use.

Those two mythic creation deities, by witch standards, were All-Encompassing Realm masters whose power was sufficient to make the world obey their will—its form depended entirely on their thoughts.

Clearly, this was something the Zhaimonv could never replicate; thus, truly useful examples must return to reality.

First, without doubt, magic could achieve creation—this had already been proven by the Sages.

Though Dorothy didn't yet know the specific methods each Sage used for creation, upon reflection, it wasn't hard to guess: after all, witches' entire understanding of magic lay within the Nine Schools.

The reason Sages were Sages was because they possessed profound knowledge, mastering all Nine Schools—that was the threshold to becoming a Sage, not combat power.

Otherwise, Dorothy's own mother wouldn't have remained merely a Peak; Euphelia's strength wasn't weak among Sages—she simply specialized in the Combat School, and thus never attained Sage status.

Since creation was an act only Sages could perform, the secret must lie in mastering all Nine Schools.

Though Dorothy had not yet reached that level, she had at least passed the beginner exams of all Nine Schools; round it off, she was a mini-Sage.

So if true Sages could create worlds, wouldn't it be reasonable for this mini-Sage to build a world model?

And how to build it?

How else but like building a house?

This, Dorothy thought, was obvious.

As a Tumugongchengzhuanyezhaimonv, building houses was her profession—she was no stranger to it; and thinking of houses, she naturally recalled Spider Teacher's secret architectural technique: "You're already a mature house—you should learn to build yourself."

So logically, creation should be the same: "You're already a mature world—you should learn to create yourself."

The secret of Spider Teacher's architectural technique lay in the puppet core and the crafting of construction puppets.

Thus, creation should be similar: first, forge a world consciousness equivalent to the puppet core, then assign a crew of laborers under that consciousness, input the blueprint, pour in materials, and sit back to watch—then simply wait for the world to complete itself.

"Hmm, the most crucial part—the world consciousness. How convenient—you're finally your turn, Xiao Wu."

Something capable of serving as world consciousness was hard to find—it was far more complex than a building's core.

Dorothy could use Mechanical Core Zero to replace the core of her residence's floating island, but Zero's current computational power was more than enough for a floating island, yet barely sufficient for an entire world.

But no matter—after all, Dorothy already had a ready-made world consciousness: the Moon God avatar that had served as the Rabbit World's world consciousness.

Moreover, the Moon God avatar came with a built-in world blueprint—the original form of the Rabbit World had been etched into its heart through the rabbits' faith.

With the two most difficult elements—the world consciousness and blueprint—solved, what remained were laborers and materials, both easily resolved.

The world's laborers were naturally the various forces of law, more precisely, the primordial deities who governed those laws; and the materials for forging the world...

How convenient—the witches' own magic was inherently creative, transformative power.

So...

Behind Dorothy, the Moon God's lunar phase shimmered faintly; countless phantoms began to emerge—memories of the former Rabbit World, its evolutionary history over countless years.

The Zhaimonv merely gazed at these world memories and began replicating them one by one.

"Legend says, at the dawn of creation, the Moon God descended upon chaos."

She whispered thus, the lunar phase behind her radiating pure moonlight, illuminating all.

"The Moon God sighed at the barren world, and that sigh became a gale, stirring up storms."

Thus, the previously crippled Wind Spirit revived, the newly calmed gales raging once more.

This Wind Spirit was the laborer Dorothy created for her world—a low-tier version of a "primordial deity."

Though it seemed impressive, in essence it was merely a puppet—easy to craft, anyone could do it.

Look: Transmutation could turn inanimate objects into living ones—like turning a branch into a bird—so turning pure wind elements into a wind spirit was perfectly reasonable.

Of course, Transmutation's so-called transformation was merely a severely inferior version of All-Encompassing power; its essence was substituting one's will for heaven's will—a form of "calling a deer a horse." Within the world's rules, it was a branch; in my heart, it was a bird. When my personal will grew strong enough to overpower the world's will, under magical catalyst, the branch became a bird.

But personal will was inherently unstable and temporary, wearing away over time; once that will faded or the magic sustaining the spell ceased, the bird would revert to a branch.

But magic isn't so inconvenient—if I've already turned an inanimate object into a living one, why should my will still sustain it? Can't it transform itself?

If that branch-turned-bird truly believed itself to be a bird, wouldn't the Transmutation effect persist indefinitely?

This was what Dorothy thought.

Of course, to other witches, this was pure nonsense: even if a branch became a bird under Transmutation, an inanimate object remained inanimate; the bird, however lifelike, was merely performing a pre-recorded imprint of a bird—like a video playing on a screen. It wasn't truly alive, lacked a soul, and had no thought.

But for the Zhaimonv, this still wasn't a problem.

No soul? Give it one. What's Necromancy for if not now?

Necromancy could not only grant the bird a soul, but research into avian anatomy could refine Transmutation to the level of bodily structure.

No thought? Give it thought—Mind School would come into play; I'd imprint a mental axiom, and this bird would never acknowledge itself as a branch.

Thus, the branch became a true bird—the only issue being that all this still required constant magical energy; once supply ceased, everything reverted.

But this wasn't really a flaw—after all, most life forms have lifespans, don't they?

Just input a single burst of magic sufficient to sustain it for years; when the magic finally depleted, it would merely be equivalent to the bird's natural death.

So, in a sense, Dorothy had already mastered the authority to create life.

This achievement would be the lifelong goal of mortal mages—but the Zhaimonv could perform "pigeon release" magic at age three or four.

Back then, Adam, her useless father, was still scrambling to earn money, but Dorothy had dragged him to the square to perform "magic"—throwing a handful of wheat into a hat, then pulling out a flock of white pigeons.

She named this type of magic the Witch's Beginner Transmutation Spell.

If there was a Beginner, there must be intermediate and advanced versions—but unfortunately, this series of spells sold poorly in the Magic Web Library, for their learning threshold was too high; not every witch was as idle as her, studying everything.

Now, Dorothy used the Witch's Advanced Transmutation Spell to animate this "Wind God"—it involved even more schools, for this wind spirit couldn't merely look the part; it needed the true power of a "Wind God."

Through Transmutation to awaken, Necromancy to forge the soul, Mind School to ignite consciousness, Evocation to shape the bones—only then could she forge this true wind spirit.

But for the wind spirit to become a Wind God, it required the fate-force of Divination School to bestow its divine mandate.

And once such a creation was made, it couldn't truly be granted freedom—it needed to be commanded via Summoning School.

This was already a fusion of six schools, but overall, it was merely basic knowledge combined—anyone willing to spend millions of hours learning could do it.

"Storms churned chaos, birthing thunder and rain."

The Zhaimonv recited again, following the Rabbit World's history.

Thus, the Thunder God and Water God took their places.

"Floods washed over all, yet also nurtured hope; thunder symbolized destruction, yet brought life."

Thus, lightning struck the water's surface, endless magical runes emerging from the flood.

The flood was the cauldron, lightning the fire—united, this was the foundation of Alchemy and Potioncraft.

Dorothy poured all her understanding of spells into this new world's crucible, hoping these spells might truly birth sentience in the process.

"Life was born, all things arose, and the newborn world needed support—so the Moon God turned her gaze to the fearsome beasts."

"They were enemies of the gods, wielding the power of earth and flame."

The Zhaimonv continued reciting this creation proclamation, then turned her gaze toward the Earth Mother God within the Golden City.

Hehe, how convenient.

"To defeat the fearsome beast, the Moon God decided to create an army."

"She took rain and thunder, crafting her kin—beings whose gentle, watery exteriors concealed the lightning's defiance."

The creation myth continued, and at this moment, the Fairy King and Sister Senior Miya began their clash.

The lightning spear collided with the artifact Storm, scattering bolts; many shattered artifacts fell to the ground, submerged by rain.

Thus, countless gentle rabbits emerged from the moon's reflection in the water, bewildered, gazing at this strange world; but upon seeing the moon above, they formed a circle and began worshipping it.

Dorothy: "..."

Wait, this was the Moon God's army? Where's the lightning you promised?

Looking at the sea of worshipping rabbits—adorable, yes, but where was their combat power?

Was something missing here?

The Zhaimonv fell into thought, then spotted the Fairy King, laughing wildly as he battled Sister Senior Miya—her eyes lit up.

Fine, it seems the crude warriors of the Combat School still have some use.

She reached out, plucked a scale from the massive Dragon-Serpent phantom, and tossed it down toward the worshipping rabbits.

"Aaaah..."

The Fairy King, mid-battle, screamed in surprise from the unexpected betrayal, then was swatted away by the Radiant Dragon.

"You're on which side, boss?"

The wounded Spirit Avatar raged, wanting to curse.

But another thunderclap drowned everything—the brilliant lightning struck the falling dragon scale, the flood surged, and the countless magical runes submerged in water flared, wrapping themselves around the adorable rabbits.

When the lightning faded, a group of rabbit-eared humanoid warriors remained, their red eyes fixed on the giant dragon ahead.

... Dark forces have arrived...