Re: Timeless Apocalypse-Chapter 89: White Room
Amon used all he had.
He limped forward, his broken leg dragging behind him and his vision waning from the blood he was losing from his torn arm, which was now nothing but a stump.
He was slow. Too slow.
As the seconds trickled by, more and more meteors formed in the skies.
He walked through fire, so desperate he stopped caring about the integrity of his body, tripping and falling, letting himself burn and break even more bones.
None of it mattered as long as he reached the pillar.
And that, he did.
Brimming with tears, he finally reached the pillar nearest to him, and the moment he touched it, he disappeared.
Just in time for the second wave to fall.
...
SPLAT!
Amon collapsed onto cold white floors.
His blood stained the once pristine ground, his whimpers echoing in the silent room he was now in. Just as he was about to pass out, he felt a stream of warmth enter his body.
His bleeding stopped, and filaments of aether dug into his skin, suturing his wounds and cleansing them, ensuring no infection would arise.
His burnt skin regenerated and his broken bones snapped back in place with a sickening series of crunches, his flesh mending along the way.
In nothing but a blink, though heavily crippled due to his lost arm and still-broken leg, Amon felt nearly as good as new.m
Even his broken leg felt like it would be done healing in minutes at most.
Shocked to his core, Amon hurriedly stood to his feet, flashbanged by the contrast between the intense pain from before and the pleasant warmth he now felt.
’Where the hell am I?!’
He was in a white room, wide but not ridiculously so. The walls, ground, and everything else were white.
And he wasn’t alone.
Dozens of others were in the room, all missing various limbs and parts of their bodies, yet each relatively stable, apart from those whose wounds were too ridiculously critical.
Yet one person seemed to stand away from the group, quietly staring up at the ceiling.
It was a young man, tall and slender, with a beautiful visage, as androgynous as it was sharp, white hair framing his face and resting on his broad yet thin shoulders.
His skin was white, jade-white, so clear and smooth it almost seemed like marble, faintly reflecting light and runes.
His eyes were just as white as his skin, sharp and distant, seemingly unbothered by what was going on around him.
Unlike them, the young man was entirely whole and untouched, his long white scholar’s tunic free of any crease or blood.
He almost looked out of place.
Amon’s pupils shook.
’Is that...?!’
...
Uriel sighed.
The spell circles flashing in the depths of his pupils faded, and his gaze finally detached from the ceiling.
’Thoryl isn’t here.’
The falling meteors were so ridiculously powerful that even he had had some trouble escaping them. If not for his now ridiculously sturdy body, he would’ve been injured already.
The meteor had fallen on Ayah’s house mere moments after he sensed it, so he hadn’t been able to warn the others.
The blast had destroyed the house and flung him across the settlement.
’I’m sure they’re alright.’ He wasn’t worried in the least. ’What I need to be thinking about, on the other hand...’
His gaze panned across the white room, and he focused on each of the survivors with him. It wasn’t more than a dozen.
And they were all staring at him.
In a corner of the room, most of them had formed a group that stared at him, weapons tightly gripped and eyes full of an overflowing desire to survive.
Uriel looked at the only young man not to have joined the group, nor to be looking at him warily.
The young man had short ginger-red hair and deep emerald pupils, bright and striking. He was tall, pretty beat up, and to most on their home planet, would be considered quite the pretty boy.
But Uriel didn’t focus on that.
He focused on the young man’s core, and his gaze imperceptibly narrowed.
’Peak E-Ranker, Sixth Circle Mage, Sublime Evolver... and a Gold Spark?’ Uriel almost felt like he was seeing something wrong.
But his Spark Talent couldn’t be incorrect.
How was someone of such a caliber possible?
’If he’s that strong, then how the hell did he get so beat up and...’ Uriel tried to peer into his Heart Realm, but with a bitter expression, he was reminded his Spark was dormant.
’Is my Shell just that strong? Then if that’s the case, Enoch and Ayah...’
[Quota Reached {20/20}!]
While Uriel was lost in thought, more people had entered the ’safe’ zone that the room represented, and the announcement suddenly echoed.
Uriel’s mind instantly emptied and he entered a state of extremely deep focus. He knew what would be coming.
[Only five awakened will be allowed to escape! If more are left after the timer runs down, all remaining will be executed.]
[The remaining five will receive a Golden Mark which will allow them to survive beyond the safe zone.]
[0:59:58]
[0:59:57]
No one attacked.
A heavy silence fell over the room, the density of aether spilling into the atmosphere, ambient aether trumped by tides of natal aether.
Uriel remained calm. He crossed his arms and simply waited.
He stared at the group staring at him.
[0:59:30]
[0:53:52]
Suddenly, just as things were about to explode, a man stepped forward from the group of hostile survivors.
He was on the older side, with greying black hair, a perfectly groomed black beard, and cold brown eyes. His build was average, but the rough callousness of his hands told otherwise.
Of the lot, he was the most intact, his body only mildly injured and his dark leather armour nearly pristine. At his waist, a set of swords could be seen.
He walked toward Uriel.
"It’s unfortunate I’ll have to meet the saviour of humanity in such dire circumstances." The man smiled and stopped in front of Uriel. "It would’ve been better if it had been at a bar, with a drink separating us."
He shook his head.
"But alas. So is life, eh?"
He extended a hand.
"I’m Emmet."
