Re: Timeless Apocalypse-Chapter 104: Little Boy(III): Hell of Remembrance

Uriel’s pupils shook as he met his grandmother’s gaze.

This was supposed to be a memory—how was she able to—

"My little Ciel."

Her eyes sparkled as she laid eyes on him, her gaze somehow piercing the barrier of memory and time, settling directly on him.

She softened at the sight of him.

"M-ma?!" Shock consumed Uriel’s mind. "H-how?! Are you able to—"

His grandmother, Mother Hadith, shook her head, and on instinct, he fell silent, his words dying in his throat.

"Foolish questions, child. Truly foolish. Did normalhood ever define us? My methods have always been beyond the human boundary."

Uriel sighed.

Moments ago, he’d seen his grandmother cut him apart and stitch him back together, somehow without killing him—years before the apocalypse descended, years before sparks and magic were awakened in humanity.

It was foolish to question the how and the why.

"I suppose I should’ve expected this," he muttered.

Uriel stared at the ground for long seconds before lifting his gaze to meet hers once more.

"Is... this the real you, or some sort of projection? Is this a real memory?"

She nodded. "It is a real memory. I simply inhabited this...projection of my past self when I felt your gaze upon me."

His heart trembled.

There were thousands of questions he wanted to ask; what step of Ascendance had she reached? How had she begun ascending before the apocalypse? Were there other humans who held such power?

If she was so powerful, why had she never come to save him from the prison? If she was so powerful, why had she needed to foolishly torture him as she did when he was a child?

So many questions, and yet, he knew she would answer none.

"The people in the dungeon, those from the government and the high families, seem to still hold the grudge they had with us in the past."

His gaze narrowed. "I’m afraid they’ll find the others of the church and kill them. I’m afraid they’ll come for you."

"I haven’t found anyone else yet. I’m not the strongest, but I’ll try and—"

"They’ll be fine," she cut him off with a chuckle. "And if not, perhaps it’s mercy."

"After all I’ve given you all, if you cannot survive the schemes of these lesser ones, perhaps it is mercy that you die early on."

Uriel didn’t answer.

"These old families and their ancient legacies, they do not mean anything in the face of what I’ve given you. Even those you call Sentinels remain subpar."

"To worry for your brothers and sisters is to doubt the perfection I drilled into your bones." Her voice remained soft and warm, yet a sharp edge underlined it. "Little Ciel, tell me, do you doubt me?"

"Do you doubt my methods?"

Uriel looked deep into her eyes, ivory meeting ivory, their faces reflected within each other’s gaze. Their expressions opposed one another, doubt and confusion met with pride and assurance.

He relented.

"No, I don’t."

Mother Hadith nodded, but upon seeing Uriel’s expression, she inwardly faltered.

The way his shoulders dropped, his back slouched, and his gaze imperceptibly trembled seemed to affect her more than the screams of his younger self ever had.

"Soon, all truth will be laid bare, and you’ll understand the methods of what you assume to be my madness. Nothing is ever as light or dark as it seems, truth always lies in the blended shades."

"But I did not embody this memory just to tell you this."

The world around them shook, as though the memory were nearing its end. Noticing this, Mother Hadith hastened her words.

"The people of the dungeon know that you are of my blood, that you are my flesh. They will not come for your brothers and sisters, but they will come for you."

"In these last few years, I have been...trapped, in a sense, limiting me in various ways—"

Uriel’s gaze, previously languid and unfocused, suddenly ignited with fire at her words.

She was trapped?! 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂

"—and this trap has extended to the dungeon. I will not be able to come and rescue you, so please, survive. Do not let yourself die before I free myself."

Her voice was unlike anything Uriel had ever heard from her. It was agitated, almost anxious, filled with passion and something dangerously close to pleading.

"Trust no one, only yourself. Do not trust the world, only your mind. Even those who call themselves your family, the Loom, are not to be trusted."

"I..." She hesitated. "They know parts of the truth, ugly ones, and the choice will be yours to decipher what is true and what is not, and in turn, choose a side."

"Sometimes ignorance is the greatest of protections, and at others, agony is enough to dull the sharpest of pains. I stole the gift of choice from you, and I chose both."

Uriel didn’t know what to say. Mother Hadith was saying too many things, too quickly, layered with implications and half-truths that left him paralysed.

But she did not stop.

"I raised you to be strong. To be unbreakable. Because I foresaw the times to come. You will not break, and you will not yield."

"Understood?!"

BANG!

"NO—!"

The memory shattered like glass, and Uriel was torn away before he could answer, before he could properly assimilate her words.

...

The intensity of his grandmother’s words was only the beginning.

A long and agonising cycle followed.

Instantly, Uriel was hurled into yet another memory, split between his ghostly projection and his past self, forced to experience his life from both first- and third-person perspectives.

He lived through every second, witnessing every frame of his lifetime, from birth to the present, forced to relive every heartbreak and every fleeting triumph.

And then it began again.

He relived his life.

Again.

And again.

And again, and again, and again.

Dozens. Hundreds. Thousands. Millions.

The number of repetitions became meaningless, time blurring into an endless loop he could not escape.

He could never turn his gaze away. He was forced to watch.

He could never dull himself to the pain. He was forced to endure it, over and over.

He screamed, cried, laughed, and collapsed as centuries and millennia compressed into moments and seconds, his mind twisting and rotting at its core.

He lost all grip on reality, yet ironically, his sense of self only grew more rigid, everything else broke away, but his identity remained.

He was trapped within his own memories.

He was trapped in a hell of his own mind.