Gracevale shines.
That was what most people said when they first saw it.
The world floated in a ring of soft white light and was wrapped in gentle day. Tall towers rose like clean spears. Bridges ran between them like ribbons of glass.
Songs hummed from the wards that guarded the city.
Priests in pale robes walked the streets with baskets of bread.
Doves circled above gardens that never seemed to wilt.
If anyone asked the people of Gracevale what kind of place this was, they answered the same way every time.
"It is heavenly."
"A bright world."
"A World where evil does not exist."
"The Heart of Light."
This was Gracevale.
The World that almost all beings in the Universe that were part of the Supreme Faction of Light wanted to settle in.
A World where every being had equal opportunity. A World where Corruption didn’t exist. A World where power wasn’t misused. A World where the weak weren’t suppressed.
It was a world that seemed straight out of fantasy.
But...
Calren knew better.
He walked down Processional Avenue in Dawnspire, the capital of the only Nation that existed in Gracevale.
The Avenue was a straight line of polished stone that ran from the Prism Gate to the Petitioners’ Hall. The stone was always warm, as if the sun lived inside it. The air smelled like citrus and clean rain. The banners of the Faction of Light hung on both sides—white cloth, gold thread, the sigil of a rising sun spreading its light in the Dark Universe.
Calren’s badge caught that light.
It was a small disk on his chest with three rays cut into it, the moment the light assimilated into his chest, the doors opened.
Calren was a registrar in the Hall, Grade Five, Master of Intake Lanes Two and Three.
Yes, he was a powerful man.
People bowed when he passed, guards saluted with their spears crossed, and they did not do it out of fear, they did it all willingly, out of the respect and love they had for people working in the Hall.
Calren too, smiled and nodded at everyone, showing absolute grace in every single one of his movements.
He moved without slowing down, as the native folk made way for him, each having the same grace and effortlessness in their existence as him.
The Luminari.
These were one of the natives of Gracevale.
They were a tall, pale-eyed race born of Gracevale’s light, the most common in the City.
Of course, these weren’t the only race that lived in a world that was called the Core of the Supreme Faction of Light.
He walked forward and passed the front clerk with a little nod, stepping through a side arch to the intake desks.
He sat at Lane Two, set his badge on the holder, and woke the slab in the desk. Blue letters rose on the polished surface, numbers that climbed and fell.
Finally, Calren looked forward, petitioners queued in a slow, long line from the gate to his lane.
As he settled down, a guard banged his spear on the floor and finally,
The long line moved.
"Next,"
Calren said as he turned towards his desk, not even bothering to look at who was standing in front of him.
The woman wearing a simple green robe stepped on the rail, her hands shook, but she kept her chin up. Calren glanced at the slab she presented, it showed her details, or more accurately, the name of the World she came from, this was what told Calren how seriously he needed to take this matter.
And in this particular case—
Greenmarch, a Lowest Level World.
—he didn’t have to at all.
Without any change in his expression,
"Remission is that door."
He pointed forward.

Comments
The readers' comments on the novel: Supreme Harem God System