The Crystal Altar is built on the rift in the world.
When the brave man stood here for the first time, the stone bricks under his feet were slowly dying. What seeps out from the depths of the crack is not magma, not shadow, but something quieter than nothingness - the remains of the Demon King, the ashes that have cooled two hundred years ago, blown up bit by bit from the ground by the wind, blowing into light blue light particles, suspended around the altar, like the funeral of fireflies.
Intention: Good and evil are not innate, they are optional.