Uriel had already taken everything he could.
He'd taken the world's energy, he'd copied its fabrics dozens of times, and had thrown it into disarray to a point of almost no return.
Even he didn't fully understand the implications of what he'd created.
The Star Rings were, in essence, miniature fabrics that worked entirely independently of anything—world and void alike.
He was a moving sentry of laws now.
What more could he take? Just how much more could he bleed the world?
'I'll take as much as I want… I'm owed as much.'
By now, Uriel's comprehension of the world, magic, martial arts, and the three arts of control was beyond anything a mortal should have ever reached.
To say he'd absolutely abused the perks of his moons and pioneer status would be a massive understatement.
And it was because he understood so much that he knew exactly where to get what he wanted.
The Spirit.
