Re: Timeless Apocalypse-Chapter 198: Crawl

Samael looked quite different.

Once, he’d had light ginger hair and deep green eyes that perfectly fit onto his freckled features. But now, seemingly having taken his disguise off, the young man showed his true appearance.

He bore a full head of ashen grey, curly hair that fell to his shoulders and framed his handsome yet still juvenile face, bits of baby fat lingering along the edges.

His pupils, once green, now burned with a deep sunset orange-gold hue, with faint rings of ivory resting in their depths.

’...’

He wore simple black, loose tunics, smiling as he waved at Uriel. "What are you doing? Come on in!"

’He kind of looks like....’ Uriel’s gaze narrowed, then relaxed just as fast. ’I must be tired.’

Stepping into the room, Samael closed the door behind him.

What sprawled before him was a beautiful and expansive suite, dark marble floors stretching out beneath his feet and covering the entire space.

Veins of gold snaked through the marble, contrasting against the wooden walls that rose high and framed tall windows through which Kael’s light and beauty streamed in, soft winds stirring the long, see-through white curtains hanging before the glass.

The room had a lounging area that took up most of the space—a couple of sofas arranged facing one another beside a fireplace.

To the right, doors leading to the rooms and bathrooms could be seen, set apart from the main lounge.

All across the room, though, Samael’s bags lay scattered, parchments and documents covering the coffee tables and desk, alongside various other trinkets of his.

"Don’t mind the mess. Come, let’s sit." He guided Uriel to the lounging area, stepping over a dozen bags. He sat down, then prompted Uriel to do the same.

Uriel didn’t bother. With a wave of his hand, he cast a spell and blinked toward the sofa, letting out a groan as he kicked his feet up onto the coffee table and got comfortable.

Samael threw him a strange glance. "Went for a little walk and you’re already this exhausted, old man?"

Uriel leaned into the soft fabric of the sofa, closing his eyes as he rested his head against it, and let out a deep exhale.

"Hm? Did you say something?" he muttered.

Samael shook his head. "You’re also losing your hearing now, aren’t you? Tragic, what time does, truly."

Uriel chuckled. "They say the human body’s limits in terms of elasticity scale along the durability of their cores. So the sturdier the core, the more the body can be stretched."

Samael’s face suddenly paled, and he gulped hard.

"Haha." He let out a nervous chuckle. "Is that so? Is that what they say?"

Uriel, still with his eyes closed, shook his head. "No. I like to refer to myself as ’they’ from time to time."

"But still, it makes one wonder."

Sweat matted Samael’s forehead as he anxiously chuckled and nodded. He’d almost forgotten Uriel was one of the few, rare, esteemed magi of the world.

"To know so much about the human body and the mysteries of cores must truly be a feat none can match," he said at last.

"Y-your wisdom knows no bounds. Truly."

Uriel nodded, nearly half asleep. "My mother used to say that."

Samael’s eyes lit up. "Is that so? Did she—"

"No."

Then silence consumed the suite.

Uriel lay sprawled on the sofa, seemingly asleep and completely at ease, while on the other side, Samael seemed unable to stay still, squirming in place as sweat dampened his hands and the silence dug deeper and deeper into his soul.

From the suite’s windows, soft winds streamed in, brushing against their skin and cooling their bodies, closely followed by the patter of pouring rain.

The curtains danced and flowed in the air, as pale light streamed into the room, contrasting their presences, which lay in the shadows.

Finally allowed to bask in the peace of the rain and have his body lulled by the soft hands of nature’s winds, Uriel couldn’t help but sigh once more.

’One day, I’ll get me a little cabin in the middle of a rainforest. A cold one. An Arctic rainforest.’ He nodded.

’Yeah, that sounds nice. Hopefully it exists.’

’I’ll have a little cabin, and a little farm. Maybe also a couple of deer. Or maybe moose. Domestic ones.’

He smiled, softly.

"You should relax more, Samael," Uriel suddenly said, breaking the sharp silence that stood between them.

"I don’t want to kill you, nor do I intend to harm you. But even if I did, what good would nervousness be?"

He chuckled. "Do you assume I’d take pity on your plight and spare you?"

"Would you like your last moments of life to be filled with despair and chaos? To be moments of suffering?"

Samael was taken aback, and for a moment, he found himself at a loss for words. "I—no... I’m..." His shoulders dropped, and he sighed. "You’re right. I’m sorry."

"Don’t be sorry. You’ve done nothing wrong. It’s just advice I’m giving you." Uriel slowly opened his eyes. "Advice I’d wished I heard sooner."

He pushed himself up and sat straight in his seat. "The best you can do in the face of the absolute is be at peace."

Samael remained quiet, staring down at the suite’s marble floors. He let Uriel’s words echo in his mind. Then he looked up, meeting his soft gaze.

He’d never taken the time to truly look at Uriel. It was only now that he seemed to realize they were nearly the same age.

It was only now that he seemed to truly see Uriel as more than a means to an end.

A pang of guilt tore across his heart.

"Do you... face the ’absolute’ often? Is death common for you?" he asked.

Uriel laughed. "Haha! Oh, yes, all the time. More than I dare count."

"And just as you were, every time I meet its gaze, I squirm, and I plead, and I beg, and I pray, only to be torn, broken, then discarded."

His smile widened. "And every time I survive, every time I crawl out of the abyss—not by virtue of my courage or capabilities, but by the sick and twisted desire of it all to see me fall again—I become just a bit more aware."

"Just a tiny bit more aware of just how meaningless and useless I—and we all—are in the face of it all."

Uriel’s words seemed to stir something deep within Samael, as memories of a distant past flashed across his gaze.

"A-and so why...?" Samael asked, his gaze distant, lost in the rivers of the past.

Uriel tilted his head. "Why?"

"W-why do you fall again?"

"Because I always rise back to my feet, even after I crawl for time unending across the abyss. I have to."

"Why?!" Samael’s voice sharpened, almost agitated.

Uriel’s smile faded, just the slightest bit. "Because to remain down is to let them win, no?"

Uriel leaned back into his seat once more. "And, you see, I’m finding myself to be quite the spiteful and vindictive individual, sadly."

He peeled part of his tunic and robes away, revealing a patch of his burnt chest. Merely gazing at Uriel’s broken runic scar nearly shattered Samael’s mind.

But he managed to hold on, somehow.

"And thus I crawl, and crawl, like a serpent, almost."

He laughed and threw his hands into the air, shaking his head. "Surely, at some point, my suffering will gain meaning, don’t you think?"

"And if not?" he asked himself, as he looked deep into the young boy’s trembling golden pupils.

"I’ll have tried."