The very fabrics of the world wrapped around Miquella, transmuting to form a cocoon of dark silk, infused with laws and primordial energy.

The cocoon instantly exploded, blowing Uriel back, and just like that, Miquella returned, entirely unharmed.

Not only was she unharmed, but her power had more than quintupled.

The aether pressure she gave off was such that Uriel couldn’t control a single strand of aether in her presence.

’Damn it!’

Staggered as he fell back, he couldn’t do anything about the blade that descended to slice off his mangled arm, nor could he react to the powerful punch that dug into his guts and lifted him off his feet.

Miquella moved like a streaking blur, her will only flickering once to shatter his Simple Domain and unfurl one of her own—one where the spiritual laws of the butterfly were absolute.

If before she seemed invincible, with her domain unleashed, she may as well have ascended to godhood.

BANG!

Uriel didn’t know what hit him, but he felt pain and agony, his mind blacking out, then reawakening as he thrashed across the crystal sea.

As he skidded across the ground, butterflies followed, each slicing in and out of his body as if he were made of butter, as if his shells and void flesh were meaningless.

He was riddled with so many holes, his organs so torn that he should have died if not for his ridiculous bodily traits and characteristics.

’Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!’

There was nothing he could do.

Uriel could easily tell that all Miquella was doing was using him to flake the rust off her mind. She was growing more powerful by the second.

And worst of all, no matter how many times he killed her, she would rise stronger and stronger until she simply became a true divinity.

Spiritual Laws were simply too powerful for him to match.

And if Lucianna’s words were to be believed—if she was indeed something he left behind in one of his past lives—then she definitely had more secrets hidden beneath her shell.

How many talents did she have? How many Spiritual Laws? How many cores? How many sparks?

Just how much more could she pull out?

’...FUCK! DAMN IT ALL!’

Choice.

Uriel felt wrath bubbling deep within him. Not because he was powerless at her hands, but because he knew he was being stripped of choice once more.

Someone was deciding his fate again. Someone was forcing his hand.

He wasn’t helpless. He had a solution.

But that solution had a cost, a cost he didn’t want to pay.

...

>Enchantment: Heartless Vessel {Gold}

~>Details: Those beyond always seek vessels, and what better vessels than the children of the world and progenitors of the arcane arts?

• Once activated, both the user and any chosen other party will begin to collapse into eternal madness, turning into monsters of twisted flesh.

• The user will gain a warped, overlapping armour of bubbling flesh and blood that massively enhances their power, while the other party will have their body assaulted by a plethora of tumours that weaken them until death.

• The Heartless Vessels can never return to normalcy.

...

Uriel slid to a stop, slamming the butt of his glaive into the ground and cancelling his momentum.

His rose pupils flickered from bloody crimson to blank ivory, endless rage and absolute helplessness dancing in his eyes.

He didn’t want to do it, but if he didn’t, his body would collapse before Miquella even reached him.

But he really didn’t want to.

’Choice, choice, and choice!’

Who had given him this glaive? Was it not Enoch?

Who had led him to this very specific place? Was it not the spirals? Was it not Thoryl, when he skewed his karmic balance during the Death Advent?

’Choice, choice, and damn choices?’

At what point was he given the gift of choice? At what point would he be free? At what point would his Will have substance?

At what point did his life have meaning if all his actions were guided and puppeteered by monsters millions of years old?

When could he live, if all he was born for was sacrifice? If he was nothing but a lamb bred for slaughter, a pawn meant for a singular purpose?

When would he be free?!

Something snapped in the depths of Uriel’s soul.

...

BANG!

Miquella suddenly stopped dead in her tracks, the ground quaking and cracking as she did so.

She had just been about to continue attacking when she suddenly sensed something strange take root in her soul, her instincts screaming danger at her.

Her gaze narrowed, and she scanned her surroundings.

In the far distance, up in the air and contained within a golden bubble, she could see her prisoner, Lucianna, and Emrys, and Samael.

But they were no threat to her.

So she kept looking. The feeling of unrest deep within her only grew, and yet not once did she turn to face Uriel.

’Flame of Madness...’

That was the only thing able to threaten her. While within the domain of the Crystal-Glass Sea, not even gods could threaten her.

But Flames of Madness could.

’Where could it come from? Did the child in the Spire get freed by the—’

Her gaze widened, and her head snapped in Uriel’s direction. But it was too late.

She felt something take root in the deepest reaches of her soul. No, deeper still, into a layer of existence no mortal could understand.

But she could.

For the first time, she frowned, her calm indifference fading to make room for it. But before she could observe the cascade of changes erupting across her body—

RUMBLE!

—the air shook, then exploded with flames as the ambient flows of aether fractured under the might of a shriek filled with agony and rage, a will infused with pure chaos and havoc.

It sounded nothing like what a human should have been able to produce.

And yet, it was.

’No...’

She shielded herself from the sharp waves of compressed wind that slammed into her, her gaze peeking through to catch sight of the source of chaos.

Her eyes landed on Uriel and...