Isabelle’s face lit up like a lightbulb as Gaius reappeared in what currently passed as Celestia’s control room. Releasing the book in her hands, which began to float on its own, she bounced over to Gaius and gave him a long hug.

“Welcome back.”

“I’m back.” Gaius held her tightly for a few seconds, before Isabelle sniffed.

“You’ve been busy,” said Isabelle.

Gaius acknowledged her words with a nod, before sniffing himself. “Do I smell? Should I take a shower or something? How do you know I’ve been busy?”

“No, you don’t actually smell or anything,” Isabelle replied, a twinkle in her eye. “I’m just pulling your leg. Besides, do gods of creation actually have the same issues as normal people?”

“The sample size, which is one, isn’t really going to yield much of a result,” Gaius replied. “I’m afraid you’ll have to do a case study based on a single sample. I understand that it will result in horribly skewed results, which will definitely have grave impacts on the relevant pol—”

Isabelle bopped him on his head, prompting Gaius to scrunch up his face. “I didn’t ask for a study, you know.”

The grin on her face faded. “But you do indeed give off a different vibe. There’s something different about you, as if you’ve experienced a multitude of lives and memories.”

“I don’t feel any different,” Gaius replied, tilting his head. “But I was watching the final moments of over a hundred thousand people. That probably had quite the profound impact on me.”

He closed one eye. “Yes. It did harden my will. For every single day I remain alive, I get to awaken the slumbering souls of the old Orb. I arrive closer to fulfilling the promise I made with Weiwu and the Crying Abyss. That must have been the change you detected.”

“The slumbering souls of Orb…” Isabelle exhaled once, drawing out the action and letting the soul carry through the windless air. “Let me tag along tomorrow. I think I can help too.”

“You?” Gaius cast a long gaze at her, before nodding slowly. “Alright, then. We’ll just treat it like a date at a museum, just that the exhibits are memories. Are you alright with that? It’s not like we don’t have experience in such a date, after all.”

“That museum must have closed down, though. You closed the Oblivion Portal there.” Isabelle stuck out her tongue. “You’re personally responsible in laying off quite a few jobs!”

“Rubbish,” Gaius replied, waving his hand left and right. “It was going to close down anyway. In fact, now that I removed the Oblivion Portal, it’s possible that the civilians in the Western Holdings are flocking over to the museum, saving it for closure.”

“In that case, you’re responsible for overworking the poor, honest staff of the museum,” Isabelle replied.

“…There’s no winning this argument, is there?” Gaius asked, rolling his eyes. “I give up. It’s my fault. Putting aside this little victory, though, what are the kids up to?”

“They’re romping around below and having fun here,” Isabelle replied. “This is a world where one could create whatever they desired, so long as the desired item is within limits. As a result, the two of them are currently building a Locomotive.”

“…Come again?”

“A Locomotive,” Isabelle replied, and the smile on her face widened. “It’s not useable, though. Just the hull of the whole thing and nothing else. Apparently, they found the North’s Locomotives to be rather dull in design.”

“What qualifications do the two of them have to criticise the design of the North’s Locomotives?” Gaius asked, baffled. “And what’s the point of…well, never mind. Celestia is indeed a place where one is supposed to live out their dreams, although I should really impose more limits on how much one can create with their will alone.”

“You should definitely do that,” said Isabelle.

The iron in that sentence made Gaius frown. “Did something happen?”

“Well, I was monitoring Celestia with Nexus, and then I saw this.” Isabelle pointed at the monitor. Gaius leaned forward, and then let out a long, slow whistle.

“Even with most of their memories suppressed,” Gaius muttered, “it would seem that the drive to create pointlessly-grandiose buildings still remains in the mind of just about everyone present.”

Manipulating the program, Gaius entered the street view. There, over fifty people were cooperating together in making an enormous dome. The more he stared at the dome, the more familiar he found it, and with a small jolt, he realised that this entire structure was almost certainly modelled after some famous structure on Earth.

“Damn those otherworlders,” Gaius muttered. “They’re the ones behind these things.”

“Is it going to be an issue?” Isabelle asked, worried.

“I’ll have to set limits on the things people can generate in this world,” Gaius replied. “It’s not much of a problem, since we’re always at a net equilibrium in

Celestia, but it’s possible that this equilibrium can be broken if enough people decide to create stupidly opulent structures.”

“Alright. Still, is there a way to make it such that Celestia can generate more energy than is used?”

“Nope,” Gaius replied. “Not realistically. There are indeed ways of generating more power than is used, but that’s only something Demigods and gods can do. It’s not a method open to mortals.”

“What method?”

“The use of one’s will in its full glory,” Gaius replied. “That yields the most gain for the least expenditure, but it’s really draining on the psyche.”

He glanced at the monitor once more, his lips twitching as the view panned out to show just how huge the entire place was. To make matters worse, this giant dome thing wasn’t alone; there were other frivolous buildings that were currently in construction.

“…I’ll let them slide for now, but I’ll have to address this issue eventually,” Gaius muttered. “Besides, don’t they actually look nice?”

“Nice, but illogical.” Isabelle rubbed her nose. “…Can we go down and take a look?”

“Sure.” Gaius rubbed her head. “And let’s go bug the two kids later while we’re at it.”

“Should you really be using ‘bug’ here?”