A strange atmosphere had settled over not just the forest, but all areas of the dungeons.
Strange screens had appeared above all settlements, showcasing various trials, each stranger and more dangerous than the last.
Invigorated, most people began to take these challenges.
The skies were filled with screens. But then something strange happened.
Those undergoing their trials suddenly saw their opponents vanish, their challenges abruptly put on hold.
The screens displaying their trials disappeared, replaced by one gigantic screen stretching across the skies.
And then, everyone received a notification.
[You have cleared your Death Trial Quest!]
[You have received a Death Grade Quest!]
Eyes widened everywhere.
[Your Quest has been delegated!]
And then, it seemed as though the skies tore open, an apocalyptic clap of thunder echoing across the entire dungeon.
[ADVENT EVENT HAS BEEN TRIGGERED!]
[ADVENT EVENT AND DEATH QUESTS HAVE MERGED!]
Confusion surfaced across the board.
[YOUR DEATH ADVENT HAS BEEN DELEGATED!]
What the hell was going on?
…
An hour passed.
Thoryl reappeared within the dimensional space where Uriel was trapped.
He looked calm, almost excited, nothing like the shoddy display of shame and anger Uriel had last seen from him.
He looked ahead, to where Uriel sat cross-legged, eyes closed in deep meditation.
'Well, would you look at that?'
There, in the distance, he sat.
He wore his scholar's set: a beautiful blend of white across his body, gold trimming the collar and sleeves, silver adorning his gloves and boots.
His long silver-white hair almost blended too perfectly with his clothing, complementing the shocking changes that had taken place within his body.
His skin was far healthier now, a blend of jade white accented by sandy olive undertones. The angles of his jaw were sharper, his face a mesmerizing, androgynous balance.
His lashes, too, long and curled, had grown paler, closer to dark silver than their former black.
But this wasn't the most shocking change.
It was the runes.
Every single inhale and exhale Uriel took was accompanied by tides of aether that naturally twisted and formed runes, assembling into spell circles before shattering into sparks of light.
He truly looked like a budding scholar.
WHOOSH!
Uriel's eyes snapped open, and the aether around him went completely silent. The runes faded, and his brilliant golden pupils blazed with light.
"Too bad," he muttered. "I was close."
During the hour he had been given, Uriel could have focused on many things.
He could have tried to comprehend his spark further, searching for a direct offensive application. He could have focused on aether, which seemed to be his greatest talent, or on magic, apparently on par with his control over aether.
He could have spent all his time dissecting his set and items.
But he did none of that.
"It's time."
He stood and walked toward Thoryl, stopping just short of him, standing face to face, only slightly shorter.
Gold stared into emerald.
"Are you ready?"
Uriel didn't answer, which only made Thoryl laugh.
"I didn't explain earlier, because I didn't think it would change the outcome," Thoryl said. "But what I'm sending you into is what's called an Advent."
"An Advent is a zone-specific event, a sort of free-roam quest. More accurately, it's an event, but semantics rarely matter."
"During an Advent, all those drawn into it are presented with an opportunity. Usually, there's a wall blocking them, something they must climb to earn the reward."
"I'm being vague because Advents don't follow any real logic or laws, aside from the fact that there is a reward, and you must somehow obtain it."
He smiled.
"Now, the reason I say I'm sending you to your death is because this Advent, meant to be faced by everyone together, will be yours to bear alone."
"You'll face everyone's Advent. And if you somehow survive, they will receive the rewards."
Uriel's gaze narrowed, doubt surfacing within it.
"And your Advent will also count as their Death Quests. So not only will it be harder, but even if you survive, they'll get everything, and you won't."
"So whether you live or die, the others will gain the rewards from both their Death Quest and the Advent without lifting a finger."
"This," Thoryl continued, "is the compromise I mentioned. One that gives all of humanity a massive chance, not just to survive, but to thrive, while also satisfying…their needs."
His smile vanished.
"They wanted me to simply kill you. But with this, even if it borders on fantasy, you have a chance to survive."
"You have a chance."
Uriel met his gaze.
"What," he asked slowly, "do they have that makes you, and all the other guides, so passive? So submissive?"
His temper flared. "Why can't you just kill them? Or even ignore their demands?"
"The issue is that they cause chaos, yes? But you have them in your grasp. If you kill them, what chaos can they cause?"
"Your logic makes no sense."
"And why are you able to bend the rules solely around me?" he pressed. "Why not throw them in as lambs for slaughter so we can all get the rewards while they die in the process?"
Uriel's calm, stoic facade shattered, the thoughts he had suppressed for the past hour finally boiling over.
"Even if this is a question of talent, how have I not proven myself?" he snapped. "I learned spellcasting in a day, raised my spark to bronze in an hour and—"
"You're dispensable."
Uriel's eyes widened.
"You're already dead," Thoryl said flatly. "And because of that, you're dispensable. You're valuable today, yes, but you're already dead to the future of humanity."
Uriel frowned so deeply it twisted into a scowl. "What are—"
Thoryl waved a hand, and Uriel lost the ability to speak, sound denying him entirely.
"I've been merciful enough," Thoryl said coldly. "Don't push it. Die for humanity, or live for humanity and die in a few days, it's all the same."
"Be a good lamb, yes?"
He snapped his fingers.
"No—!"
And Uriel was gone.
[DEATH ADVENT HAS BEGUN!]