Re: Timeless Apocalypse-Chapter 143: Resolute

And, just like he’d expected, the sand had thrown every part of him into chaos, from his mind to his core and body.

But his core was nearly indestructible, and by virtue of his sin, his mind couldn’t possibly be more chaotic, not as long as his runic scar existed.

The only thing without protection was his body.

"Argh, damn it all!"

And it hurt. Badly.

Uriel weakly looked up, his little pocket trembling repeatedly as he did so.

His gaze shook, and runes appeared in the depths of his ivory eyes. He peered into the flowing waves of the world’s aether.

’The chaotic currents spread periodically, then gather into one concentrated point so chaotic it turns orderly, thus triggering the sands, causing an explosion of chaos that unleashes the waves...’

’When the chaos fully disperses, it gathers again, like a taut rubber band snapping loose.’

’When the plane is fat, order rules, and when the waves rise, chaos explodes... at an interval of around thirty minutes...’

Uriel looked at the structure of his shelter.

It had survived the initial fall he’d escaped from, but he could tell it would only survive one more collapse.

’Which means I have about an hour in here before I either have to leave... or die buried...’

He was so deep in the sand that all aether in the depths that wasn’t sand aether instantly collapsed, barring him from reinforcing his vines.

The only reason his vines hadn’t shattered yet was because his aether was at the Jade Grade in quality and he’d already formed them before he even dove down.

Otherwise, he’d be done for.

His jaw tightened, and he refocused on the state of his body.

Using his one functional hand, he bit his thumb and index finger, then began to draw a formation of blood across his left side, where he was paralysed.

Analysis and inspection runes were rapidly traced across his bruised, purple skin, and in a blink, a formation that deeply analysed the damage his body had sustained was cast.

Information flooded his mind.

’...’

Uriel closed his eyes, his lips pressing so hard they threatened to split, a vein of deep annoyance and anger rising along his temples.

The wind and ice aether had formed into a strange composite energy type that focused on two characteristics: frigidness and severance.

The aether hadn’t simply frozen and paralysed his limbs.

The wind aether had seeped deep into his arm and leg, targeting the vital aether within, his very life force, then severed it from his core, letting it go awry.

Then the frigid components had frozen it in place, entirely disrupting the inner harmony of his body.

In other words, it was as if the composite aether had rewritten his body in such a way that he’d been born without an arm or leg in the first place.

Uriel had never in his life seen aether manipulation so complex and layered, nor had he known elements could be used in such a shrewd manner. He especially hadn’t expected something as neutral as a sandstorm to be able to do this.

Had he not been in such a terrible situation, he would’ve been left in awe. If he studied what had happened to his body deeply enough, he’d be able to take great leaps forward in his elemental control.

But he didn’t have that luxury.

’...’

He closed his eyes.

’I can do this.’

He opened them, white flames burning deep within.

His abode mark flashed, and from it, a simple dagger appeared in his grasp. His elemental mantle extended to the blade, fortifying it in an instant.

Without hesitation, Uriel drove the blade into his left shoulder, his jaw tightening and teeth cracking as he then, with vicious resolve, ran the blade down the length of his arm.

"UMM!" His muffled scream of pain echoed weakly within the tight shelter, heat rising as his body soaked in sweat, sand sticking to every crevice of his flesh.

He stopped only when most of his left arm had been cut open and tore the blade free.

He paused for a brief moment.

Then the dagger pierced into his thigh, digging deep, missing a vital artery by an inch, before running along the length of his leg.

Blood spurted, and he found himself covered in a mix of it and sweat, tears rising within his resolute eyes as his body shivered in pure agony.

But he didn’t stop.

Not until he had fully cut his leg open.

"UHH!"

Removing the dagger from his leg, he gasped, feeling dizzy and weak. Fatigue slammed into him, the heat building in the pocket making him delirious and nauseous.

But with a pulse from his runic scar, he forced himself to refocus.

From his brow, sweat dripped onto his cracked, dried lips. He licked them, the bitter mix of blood and salt sour against his taste buds.

The air reeked of metal.

In the darkness of the deep, Uriel’s hand reached out, digging between the vines to scoop up a handful of white sand.

Then, with careful, deliberate movements, he sprinkled the sand into his open wounds.

"ARGGGGGGHHHHH!" Tears spilled over, drenching his feet and joining the rancid mixture soaking his flesh.

But it wasn’t over.

Just as the pain reached its peak, Uriel’s resolve exploded. He revved his core, his natal aether surging and instantly speeding through his veins and flesh.

What tore from his lips wasn’t a scream but a shrill cry, his runic scar and pain-dulling formation unable to dampen the sheer agony.

POP! POP!

From his left arm and leg, loud cracks echoed as the wind and ice aether within his limbs trembled, suddenly assaulted by the seemingly endless pool of his core.

The strange composite energy was shredded to pieces, dissipating into thin air.

But once again, it wasn’t over.

WHOOSH!

Uriel’s blood-soaked right hand slid across his torn flesh, all his understanding of resonance condensing into a formation with the sole purpose of rekindling the link between his limbs and his body’s vital aether and core.

The formation was completed in a dozen breaths.