Galaxy 38: Kingdom of Papyrine

The third parallel world is made of paper. Feuillia is white, folded and refolded endlessly. Every fold hides a trap, or a warrior.

The ground folds up beneath your feet. A paper figure unfolds in front of you.

On Plissa, the mountains are gigantic folds. One false step, and everything tears. The origami samurai guard every pass.

A red paper samurai bows. Then he draws his sword.

The ink scribes of Encria write on the world itself. What they write comes true. They write the defeat of their enemies. Their brushes are more dangerous than blades.

A scribe dips his brush. A black stroke shoots toward you.

A thousand paper cranes fly in silence above Grulia. They say they grant a wish to whoever folds them all. These ones have wings as sharp as blades.

The sky fills with white wings. Not a sound.

On Calligra, every brushstroke brings a warrior to life. The calligraphers have drawn an entire army. They keep drawing more during the battle.

A giant hand draws a stroke across the sky. A warrior falls from the stroke.

Parcheminia is the last scroll before the palace. It tells the whole story of the kingdom. The last line bears your name, and it is not finished yet.

The scroll unrolls endlessly. Your names appear on it in red letters.

At the heart of Papyrine sleeps the Origami Dragon. It was folded by the first calligrapher, from the first sheet of the world. It protected the kingdom, and every fold of its body was a prayer. Then the rift stained its paper with an ink that does not come from here. Since then, it folds other worlds to tuck them away into its own. Its claws are blades of paper, thinner than a hair. Its storm of paper slashes a whole line of heroes at once.

The Origami Dragon unfolds, fold after fold. It fills the whole sky.