The Old Man leaned back in his chair, watching Ryan battle with the beasts, sipping his favorite wine.
"Ah, the good old days of fighting with a sword and not words…" The Old Man drawled.
"The Multiverse has changed so much since the heavens took control. I remember the bett-"
A beat of sweat ran down his forehead as he felt an immense pressure weighing on him. "The dark days, yes, what terrible days those were."
Shaking his head, The Old Man sighed and put down his wine glass.
Reaching over to his precious, he rubbed its round and smooth surface with love and affection.
"I can't believe anyone would abandon you. I still can't believe my luck finding you that day."
Fifteen million years ago, The Old Man had been meandering from galaxy to galaxy when he stumbled upon a Universe amid a brutal war.
As a little god-ranked cultivator, he wasn't fit to stick his neck into things that didn't concern him, but as he was about to leave, a voice called to him.