The sorcerer king stood silently in a laboratory deep in the Great Tomb of Nazarick. Before him, the alchemy workbench moved marbles back and forth along belts, while the vial nearby slowly filled with the glow of distilled moonlight.

It reminded him of aliens and blocks, and beams of light that welded and pierced. Of games he used to play before he had arrived here.
He murmured: "Coincidence is such a scary thing."