Re: Timeless Apocalypse

Uriel didn’t know that a tribulation meant for him was currently building in the skies, nor did he know what a tribulation was.

He was entirely submerged in his task and the success that was coming.

Ahead, there was nothing but glory, and he cared for nothing else.

Project Magia would be a success.

BANG! WHOOSH!

"Shape!"

Uriel’s body shook and shuddered for the nth time, another cascade of changes erupting across his frame. More specifically, his new star rings each trembled.

Within the depths of his stars, tiny faceless figures of multicoloured light—almost like small fairy-like spirits—appeared.

Within each of his stars, such a small avatar emerged, and as that occurred, across his obsidian rings, veins of rainbow radiance spread.

Spirit after spirit took shape within Uriel, just as his rings mutated and inched toward true completion.

’The first ring will be light.’

The air around Uriel exploded, and a flood of what could only be called primordial light aether surged into his body, rushing to his cores and settling into one of his rings.

The energy immediately began to change the nascent spirits of the ring it targeted.

’The second will be darkness.’

The world around him paled, then became akin to a void of nothing, across which tendrils of darkness—darker than the void itself—surged, slipping into Uriel without a sound.

Another ring was targeted.

’The third will be sand. And the fourth will be wood.’

Two more rings were claimed.

"..."

How were the spirits forming within Uriel forged?

It was simple.

The only thing Uriel hadn’t seen during the primordial dance was the creation and birth of the supreme spirit, so logically, he shouldn’t have had a clue as to how they came to be.

So, how had he formed his own?

Unity.

The answers had been obvious to Uriel.

The Spirit’s soul was born from the unity of three arts of control, and its body was forged by the void and the world—by the two fabrics.

It was almost an egg-and-chicken situation. The birth of a world could only happen when guided by a spirit, but a spirit could only be born after a world’s foundation was shaped.

Uriel could guess this was most likely a matter deeply tied to time and its relationship with spirits, but that was beside the point.

After Uriel formed his own spirits with his Star Rings, the rest was simple.

All he had left to do was take.

All he had to do was let his Spirits take what they desired from the world.

So, without shame, they snatched the Wills of Light, Darkness, Sand, and Wood.

And who would dare contest? None.

This was a dimensional space. There were no True Spirits to stop him.

And so, his success was etched in stone.

TCHI!

On each of his cores, the first four rings shone with blinding brilliance as a mysterious force poured into them, spurring them into awakening.

KAH!

In a blink, Uriel reformed his Access grade, which he had direly missed. A series of kaleidoscopic mandalas formed on his belly, opening his frame to a new realm.

[Nascent Arcane Path has been forged!]

[Nascent Martial Path has been forged!]

[Nascent Path of Mastery has been forged!]

[The Weave has recognised your achievements!]

[Rewards granted!]

There was a pause. Then it came all at once.

[You have formed your first [?] Star Ring Circle!]

[You have formed your second [?] Star Ring Circle!]

[You have formed your third [?] Star Ring Circle!]

[You have formed your fourth [?] Star Ring Circle!]

For mages and martial artists, for every ring and star formed, they would gain a bodily reconstruction, as well as a network of runes etched across every layer of their body and mind.

And Uriel was no exception.

BANG!

At this point, the pain didn’t bother Uriel. All he could feel was euphoria, even as his body exploded and instantly began to reforge itself into something greater.

A light of madness flickered through his gaze, and he grinned.

’More!’

[You have achieved a Great Deed!]

[Trigger Moon Formation?]

[YES/NO]

Uriel immediately chose yes, letting his three new moons form at once, even as his body underwent violent evolution, uncaring for potential overload.

He just wanted more. And more. And more.

It wasn’t power he chased, nor was it improvement.

As his face contorted in pleasure and his pupils shuddered in sheer ecstasy, it seemed his soul sought destruction more than anything—as if his heart yearned to see every part of him torn, shredded, and burnt to ashes.

It was as if he desperately sought any way to feel. Any way to prove his suffering would eventually have meaning and purpose, regardless of how pathetic it made him.

"..."

Uriel’s mind was clear and entirely aware that he was spiralling under the effects of his broken runic scar. His will was perfectly sane.

But he didn’t care. He wanted more.

If it sought to break him, then he’d let it happen.

"MORE!"

His roar shook the air and peeled across the skies.

...

[{?} — Outworld Location]

The sky was a deep shade of emerald, across which thick clouds lazily drifted, passing by the three suns that hung high above.

Beneath the radiant skies, sparkling emerald waters stretched in tranquility, forming an ocean larger than most worlds mortals would be familiar with.

Within those waters, which softly reflected the light of the suns, gigantic lifeforms swam, beings of every kind.

From lightning aether-born crustaceans as large as chariots to deep-sea horrors the size of continents, all moved unbothered and in harmony.

"Isn’t this great?"

In an inconspicuous stretch of the emerald ocean, a dark platform floated atop the water, gently carried by the currents. Upon it, a reclined summer chair rested.

On this chair sat a handsome man with light bronze skin, long curly brown hair, and deep, sparkling blue eyes. He was thick with muscle and carried a rugged charm that contrasted sharply with the softness in his gaze.

He was the definition of a Prince Charming. A disheveled one, but a prince nonetheless.

Godwyn smiled, enjoying the breeze and perfect weather of the ocean, dressed in loose, light white tunics.

Not far behind him, on the same platform, Anatha sat cross-legged in midair, sifting through a dozen documents by the second, her wispy dark limbs snaking through the air at ridiculous speeds.

Godwyn glanced at her, then shook his head.

"Little Anna, I’ve told you to relax already. After all these cycles spent working, can’t you let loose a little?"

"This is relaxing to me," she said, her voice as androgynous and calm as ever.

Godwyn chuckled softly. "To find joy in record-mending... you know, that does sound like something you’d enjoy."

Anatha’s shadowy form shuddered, and on her featureless dark face, a pair of dark, violet eyes appeared, instantly sharpening.

"What is that supposed to mean, master?"

Her words sent a shiver down Godwyn’s spine, but he didn’t seem to mind. His smile widened as he ignored her.

Anatha sneered, then refocused on her work, her mood quickly settling back into calm.

But suddenly, her eyes snapped back to Godwyn.

The smile on his face was gone. The softness in his gaze had faded.

His expression was neutral, but beneath it, Anatha could feel it.

Annoyance. Deep annoyance.

"Master, what is it?"