In certain times and places, one can stumble upon fragmented records of people who want to explore the vastness of the realms they inhabit. Among these individuals, there is one shrouded in mystery and awe. Only selectd few, individuals of immense strength, are aware of his existence.

It is as if he deliberately hides himself from the eyes of the world, wandering beyond the grasp of mortal affairs. He is said to be the strongest. Yet, paradoxically, he is disinterested in power or conquest. Long past the point of ambition, he roams the boundless realms, not seeking but merely observing—and finding amusement in watching the myriad worlds unfold.

His seemingly endless library holds the knowledge of countless dimensions, universes, and worlds. Books of every size, shape, and color line the towering shelves, stretching so far that their ends are obscured by a pale mist. These tomes are written in languages both known and unknown. He enjoys writing and reading, his pen moving across pages with quiet intensity. Those few he deems worthy—or at least not unworthy—might receive a book from him as a gift, a gesture of immeasurable significance. For the rest, even a glimpse of one page is an impossible dream. To even look upon it from afar might be valuable.

At this moment, he sat at an intricately carved desk, a quill in hand, penning another of his works. His voice, soft yet resonant, broke the silence.

"After the Bang," he wrote, "there were three dimensions. Each dimension birthed three universes, and within each universe, billions of worlds. The dimensions and universes themselves are ordered—low, medium, and high. As for the worlds within these universes, their categorization is irrelevant. But are there really just three dimensions?"

He paused, tapping the quill lightly against the edge of his inkpot, and murmured, "Hmm. I think I can now travel through the dimensions once again."

His features, illuminated by the flickering light of an otherworldly lamp, were striking. His white hair fell in soft waves to his shoulders, an ethereal contrast to his deep black eyes that seemed to hold the weight of countless stars. His pale skin shimmered faintly, as if touched by the glow of an unseen moon. He was neither tall nor short but carried himself with an effortless grace that made his presence feel monumental. His long-fingered hands seemed crafted for the delicate art of wielding a pen and writing. Though his appearance suggested he was in his twenties, his story was far more extraordinary.

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At the age of one, he began to walk and speak. By the time he was two, he had already started learning martial arts. His achievements and natural talent were astonishing. He was progressing rapidly with the unwavering support of his parents. By the age of five, his parents deemed him the strongest they had ever seen, though they kept his identity hidden from the world.

At six years old, he expressed his desire to travel alone and explore the dimensions. Despite their confidence in his abilities and intellect, his parents were reluctant to let him go—not because they feared for his safety, but because their love for him made parting so soon difficult to bear. For a year, he worked to convince them, promising to send messages and updates during his travels. Finally, when he turned seven, they agreed.

It has now been eighteen years since he bid farewell to his parents. While he wandered through the vast expanse of the three dimensions, his parents chose to live peacefully, traveling from the higher dimension to the lower one to enjoy a life away from the turbulence of the higher dimension.

The library's silence seemed to hum around him, a stillness alive with infinite knowledge and secrets. The man stood, his movements as fluid as water, and gazed at the distant window with an unreadable expression.

'Everyone knows there are just three dimensions, but who could guess that I live in Dimension Zero?' he thought, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. 'The worlds seem countless and amusing. Perhaps I shall see them again. Hmm… my parents were in the lower dimension, I think. Let's go check on them—it's been some time already.'

The man picked up his book and quill, his movements deliberate and unhurried. As he rose, his feet barely touched the ground, his form beginning to lift effortlessly into the air. With a single graceful motion, he extended a finger, tracing a glowing circle in the air. Light poured forth from the arc he drew, its edges crackling faintly with energy as it widened into a shimmering, white gate.

He paused for a moment, gazing at the gate as if peering through to what lay beyond. "The lower dimension," he murmured, a faint smirk crossing his lips. "It's been quite some time, hasn't it?"

Without hesitation, he stepped through the portal, the swirling light enveloping him. As he vanished, the gate collapsed inward, leaving no trace of its existence, and the vast, silent library was left to its solitude once more.