Re: Timeless Apocalypse-Chapter 112: Weeping Laughter
The very source and origin of his illness surged from his depths, corrupting all things in its path and spreading through every single inch of his body and its layers.
By the second, his body blackened, the aether in the air beside him collapsing into what could only be called rot and foul essence, gnawing at the very fabric of space itself.
And as if on cue, just as the corruption threatened to consume him, the waves of timeless resonance returned, finally having found something to latch onto once again, fighting to perfect the horrors the corruption infusing into Uriel was causing.
Corruption and Timeless Resonance danced and clashed, using Uriel as a crucible, a canvas upon which a horrifyingly beautiful piece was painted.
He was rebuilt into something... unholy.
Something profane.
...
As the body twisted and reformed, so did the mind, and perhaps its changes were even more aberrant.
As was seen, Uriel had decided to endure.
To become a hollow and emotionless husk or to become a hive of mad personalities; he’d refused both.
And so, he endured.
As it had with his body, timeless resonance infused into the fabric and essence of his mind, consuming his soul and forcefully merging it with the storm of inherited emotions and memories Ophanis had summoned.
His mind broke again and again, but it always returned.
He remained conscious, his Will and heart burning as brightly as the promise etched onto his chest, the flames of his soul inextinguishable.
He endured waves of agony, clinging to life and to his sanity with a ferocious and inhuman tenacity, a madman tasked with something primordial in purpose.
’...’
Minutes flowed into hours and hours bled into days as time passed.
Then, it all stopped.
He stopped breaking.
Timeless resonance equalised across all layers and facets of his existence, becoming what few would know as inborn timeless resonance.
Silence echoed for long moments.
Mental pain was a form of suffering Uriel found hard to describe. It was like he was losing his sense of self, like he was slowly unwound into a chained and thoughtless mess.
Regardless, as the process came to an end, he relaxed and let go of the tension he’d been holding onto for what felt like lifetimes.
He couldn’t feel anything. He couldn’t even feel his body, and his mind was still trapped in a strange illusion of endless darkness, but it was over.
He was alive.
’...I survived... it’s over...’
Uriel had read many stories as a child.
Being left in the church, not allowed to leave its boundaries, he and his people hadn’t found much else to do.
He’d read many tales of great men and grand women, each born shackled by the heavens yet tempered by the earth, who would eventually rise to rule the skies.
He’d read about how they used suffering and agony to temper and strike the weakness out of themselves; how they turned the chains of heaven into spears of man and sundered their mortal coils to attain the divine.
He read of their exploits, great warriors rising from the hells and the dregs, shedding weakness to be... great. To be steel none could bend or break.
As childish as it seemed, on that day, after the advent, as he roared and begged for greatness, he had been imagining these heroes.
On that day, as he cried, he had hoped to one day reach their heights; to one day have shoulders broad enough to blot out the skies and a back strong enough to carry the heavens.
’...I did it...’
Uriel felt his mind drift, fatigue consuming him as his consciousness was pulled into the depths of rest. As it happened, he couldn’t help but foolishly smile.
He had been great, just like his heroes.
He smiled, his mind darkening as he passed out, finally granted rest after the tumultuous waves.
He fell asleep, proud.
’...’
But just how much could he endure before breaking?
Just how much could a so-called hero shoulder before buckling under the weight of... everything?
Could something already broken even endure? Whether it turned to fine dust or remained as fractured shards, its fate stood the same.
It was broken.
WHOOOOSH!
Like a thief in the night, while he fell asleep peacefully and his Will of steel came to rest... the corruption emerged.
It had consumed his body. Now, it consumed his mind, and then, his soul, and further still, his core and spark.
It sank deep, and another cycle of chaotic change began.
Timeless Resonance and Corruption battled within him.
Once again, he was stripped of choice, and like a lamb set for slaughter, he found himself helpless, unbeknownst even to himself.
...
[Come, sit on my lap. Tell me, what do you see when you close your eyes? Is it darkness, or is it nothing? Can you draw a line between the two?]
[No? Then that means you are good, for there is no line between evil and inaction. To be good, you must stand, and to stand means to fight. Do you understand?]
[You must fight, so all you can see is light—so you lose the ability to see, and bask in darkness born from blinding light rather than darkness born from looming shadows, yes?]
[I love you, understand? And because I love you, I do this, so you see the light, so you lose sight. So you may be reborn.]
[I love you, to no end, eternally, so don’t cry, yes?]
...
"..."
The cave was silent.
The cave was still.
"Hahahaha!"
Melodious laughter echoed, breaking the quiet stillness; so sweet and tender that even the most hardened of men and callous of women would melt upon hearing it, like heavenly chimes ringing from paradise.
The very world seemed to fall in love with Uriel.
He laughed, still asleep, and tears streamed from his eyes, drenching his face.
Aether pulsed and coiled around him, forming a beautiful white cocoon within which he found comfort.
SHAH!
An aura, profane yet sacred, drowned the cave.
Weeping laughter echoed.
"Hahaha!"
