Re: Timeless Apocalypse-Chapter 102: Little Boy
It had happened very rapidly for Uriel.
In one moment, he had just finished his evolution. In the next, the settlement shattered, a shower of meteors falling before anyone could react, violent and ruthless.
In the safe zone, he found himself alongside a duo of mysterious actors, as strange as they were threatening, before being plunged into a violent beast tide.
He fought, and he fought, slowly losing his mind. He cut down boars and flon-men alike, then faced a king, powerful beyond words.
In his life, he had never been subjected to such violence. He had never seen so much blood, never heard bones break so often, never heard flesh squirm so much.
The pain was beyond reckoning, and the horror of the ruined settlement was just as paralysing as the agony was, and yet, he kept fighting.
He fought.
But then... the skies tore open.
"...what?!"
And he witnessed a scene he would never forget.
...
Upon entering the swirling portal, Uriel found himself flung across space. It was dark, empty, and endless, and he streaked across it, coated in a blue glow.
The blue glow seemed to protect him from the darkness.
His body slowly spun as it travelled, akin to a zipping meteor, finally given respite from the hours of battle and hardship.
His glaive faded, just as his darkness armour and vine exoskeleton did. They vanished, just as the sand at his feet sparkled into nothingness.
Weakness slammed into him, heavy and hard, and he passed out entirely, well and truly, finally escaping the state of madness he had fallen into.
WHOOOSH!
His core shone with brilliant light, empty yet entirely intact.
It tried to cycle his natal aether to heal and mend his injuries, but finding none, its radiant light became blinding and, on its own, began to resonate with his surroundings.
It tried to resonate with the world around it to replenish his natal aether.
But there was no world.
Only the void.
KAH! KAH! KAH! KAH!
To most, such a thing would have been impossible. The most glaring oddity was the fact that Uriel’s core almost seemed sentient, able to move to help him and replenish itself on its own.
But the most shocking thing was its resonance abilities, somehow able to commune with the world itself and adapt.
Yet at this point, Uriel had taken his comprehension of resonance to such a complex boundary that such a thing should have only been natural.
And beyond it all, it was to be remembered that during Uriel’s initial awakening, his True Core had shattered.
He didn’t have a True Core.
He had a Unique True Core.
WHOOSH!
Wisps of energy formed around him, grey and almost bland, born of the void itself, of nothingness and darkness.
And in a shocking turn of events, Uriel’s core resonated with the void itself, pulling upon its essence to replenish its reserves.
Shocking changes erupted instantly.
[Your First Sin has awakened.]
...
Uriel opened his eyes.
He floated in the middle of an endless white void, his body half made of grey flames and half corporeal, as if he were a ghost.
He blinked a couple of times, confused and shaken, unsure of where he was, unsure of who he was, unsure of what he was.
He looked around the white void, almost searching for an answer. Something deep within him pushed him toward it.
And then, as if reacting to his intent, the void erupted with colour.
It was almost reminiscent of his awakening, colours and shapes painted across the white canvas reality had become, taking shape and form.
Lost yet captivated, he simply watched.
He observed the show unfurling before his eyes.
...
Uriel had always been strange.
He was as ever-changing as he was static.
At times, he seemed to be nobody and nothing—a puppet with no desires or hopes, waiting to die and collapse into sustenance for worms.
At others, he almost seemed to have too much ambition, too much hope, as if driven by a purpose higher than himself, as if life were the most important of gifts he had been born to cherish.
He made no sense whatsoever.
On his first day in the dungeon, fresh from years of imprisonment—where he had been tortured and humiliated day after day, year after year—the first thing he did was help a man who was part of the very system that had broken him.
The first thing he did was try to help General Lorys.
It was a single event, yet it defined everything Uriel was in relation to himself.
Detached.
He was detached from everything and everyone, and without realising it, his detachment had been rooted so deeply within him that he forgot.
Uriel was forgetting who he was.
No, he had already forgotten who he was.
He vaguely remembered loving furniture when he first awakened, but he didn’t remember why. He vaguely remembered loving food, but didn’t remember why. He vaguely remembered loving his hair, but not why.
Even when Lady Emmett began to stain his name, he vaguely felt rage and anger rise within him, but didn’t know why.
He had forgotten.
But now, he would remember.
Everything.
WHOOOOSH!
The white void sparked and began to replay his life, from the very beginning, from his first breath and heartbeat.
He saw it all.
From his days as an infant in a grand and wide royal palace, in the embrace of a woman he didn’t know, her eyes full of love, to his time in the church.
The years of training. The brutal experiments. His day-long "private" sessions with his grandmother, where he was cut open and stitched back together endlessly.
He remembered his family—Arthur and Lilith—whom he leaned on as the years passed and his body weakened and his state worsened.
Over time, he lost his sight, the ability to walk, to talk, to hear, and even to feel, yet they remained, present and by his side.
And then everything that came after.
It all reflected across his glass-like, ivory eyes.
...
The room was quiet.
The floors were made of dark blue tiles, and the walls were a somber white, fitted with large stained-glass windows through which scarlet light poured in.
The scene was almost horrifying in its eeriness.
In the middle of the room, a tall woman stood before a metallic table.
She wore dark priest’s robes, most—if not all—of her skin and hair hidden beneath fabric and veils, revealing only her porcelain-white skin, her ridiculously beautiful face, and her deep, ivory-coloured pupils.
Her presence and stature were so divine it almost seemed profane, like a sculpture crafted by the gods themselves and given life by the most impure of forces, inhuman and otherworldly.
White gloves fitted her hands, contrasting sharply against her attire and almost seeming bloody in the crimson light that submerged the room.
Her eyes were cold and distant. Her back was straight. Her breaths were long and deep.
On the table lay a little boy, strapped from his legs to his arms and finally his neck by thick silver chains, seemingly so hot they sizzled against his skin.
"Please... no... no!"
