A flash of light blinded Uriel.
When his vision cleared, he'd been teleported away.
He immediately felt small. Incomparably tiny.
He stood in the middle of a ginormous expanse, metal sprawling and stretching around him for dozens upon dozens of kilometres, inching near a hundred in each direction.
The limits of the expanse rose and curved into the skies, forming high circular walls that tore into the heavens for just as many kilometres.
Uriel looked up, laying eyes on the opening above, catching sight of sparking blue skies.
'…'
He was in a sort of huge bowl. A metal, titan-sized bowl.
He closed his eyes, shoulders relaxing as his head panned down.
His fists were still tightly balled, trembling. His breaths were quick and panicked, his heart hammering violently against his rib cage.
He was full of rage, so much of it, mirrored by fear he'd never felt before. And for some reason, this time, he couldn't easily shrug it off.
He couldn't shove it to the side and wear an indifferent mask. He couldn't simply hand the weight of his life away onto Enoch.
He was alone.
And no one would come to save him.
'No one is going to save me.'
The words echoed in his mind without end, and the more they bounced around his thoughts, the more his hands trembled.
And then it got worse.
BANG!
The air exploded.
Harsh winds tore through Uriel's hair, pushing and pulling from all sides.
Around him, far in the distance and along the circular wall's edges, figures, tall and looming, began to appear.
They weaved themselves from strings of dark light.
'…'
Just how many humans were on Ithurial? What did it mean for Uriel to face the trial of dozens of billions of humans, alone?
Could anyone truly fathom what being surrounded by billions of enemies felt like? Could anyone fathom the sheer avalanche of aether? The crushing weight of their cores?
Their presence?
But these weren't humans that were materialising.
The Cauldron Advent posed each newly awakened a challenge, and as a reward, they would receive three items they needed most.
But what embodied this challenge?
Reflection.
Each cauldron held an artificially crafted enemy, perfectly countering the newly awakened's spark and build.
The more cauldrons they challenged, the stronger the enemy would become, and the greater the rewards.
Uriel wasn't simply facing billions of enemies.
He was facing a world-sized army built to destroy every single human of his world.
All at once.
RUMBLE!
The air shook, roars peeling across its surface as the metal of the titanic cauldron trembled violently.
Creatures of all kinds took shape, shadows rapidly looming and overlapping—legendary dragons, humanoids of ice, intangible shadow monsters, sentient swords, living storms—everything.
Uriel opened his eyes, pupils trembling.
The pressure slamming into him was simply unreal.
Shaking, he slowly turned, his gaze panning as he took in the ridiculous scale of it all. Roars and screams echoed so loudly that he was left deaf.
Putrid, horrific smells of all kinds poured from these creatures, filling his nostrils, so overwhelming that he struggled to breathe properly.
He couldn't even process the sheer variety of horror around him, his vision blurring as tears rapidly began to fall.
'…'
He fell to his knees, staring at the skies, the only thing not yet flooded by monstrous creatures.
Even then, parts of it were covered by flocks of famished avian beasts, circling above him, waiting for the trial to begin in earnest.
He stared at the blue expanse overhead, silently sobbing, shaking his head.
He knew this was most likely being shown to everyone. That Lilith and Arthur were probably watching him sob. That Enoch was too.
He tried to stop. Tried to rein it in. He couldn't.
He tried to give up, to simply accept his fate, to become indifferent to his coming death, to be hollow, but he couldn't.
'…'
He really wanted to live.
'…'
But he wouldn't.
TAH! TAH! TAH!
Like rust flaking off metal, the gold in Uriel's eyes shattered and faded, revealing a beautiful yet empty ivory, unfathomably deep, containing faint rings of darkness, their rims covered by tongues of dark-gold fire.
Seconds passed.
The gold waned. Then vanished entirely.
All that remained was white. Empty and vast.
'…'
Uriel closed his eyes and bent forward, hands clasped together as his forehead touched the metallic ground, almost as if he were praying.
Almost as if he were praying to the gods.
[Death Advent will begin in three… two…]
Uriel did not move.
[…one…!]
Unmoving.
[…Death Advent has begun!]
And then the world froze.
No, the entire dungeon froze. Trapped in time. Locked in unmoving space.
It became a bleak expanse of black and white.
In front of the prostrated, weeping Uriel, a line was drawn into reality itself, like purple ink on paper.
Like pieces of a puzzle being pulled apart, the fabric of the world before him unwound, opening a passage from which a figure stepped forth.
The Supreme Spirit.
She was just as radiant and majestic as the first time; a body of coiling white flames, a trailing mane of dark amethyst fire for hair, and deep, dark azure pupils, unfathomable and mysterious.
Each step she took sent ripples through the world, straining it. A shrill cry echoed with every movement, as if the very dungeon screamed in agony, unable to bear her presence.
Step after step, the cry grew louder.
Still trembling and prostrated, tears soaking his face, Uriel clutched his head, silent and unaware of what transpired beyond the darkness of his closed eyelids.
The Supreme Spirit stopped before him.
The ripples ceased. The cries slowly faded into stillness.
She gazed down, not at Uriel's flesh, but at his very soul. A small, trembling brazier of gold and white, corrupted by malicious streaks of crimson.
She bent down, her form shrinking as she did, until she became a petite lady of flame kneeling before him.
She gently lifted his face.
Her touch did not burn him, only the tears upon his cheeks. Warmth streamed from her palm into his body, soothing something deep within him, something he had no name for.
Soothing his soul.
[We meet again.]