He looked entirely normal.

He stood half naked, his tunic torn and his skin utterly flawless, as were his limbs—as if he hadn’t looked like a torn corpse mere moments ago.

He swayed slightly with the flow of the wind, his vacant gaze staring into empty space, his presence void and his countenance shockingly... plain.

"How...?" she mustered in disbelief.

Miquella couldn’t even begin to imagine how he’d healed so suddenly, so rapidly.

Attacks born of Laws were nearly impossible to recover from without the proper methods, and clearly, Uriel didn’t have them.

He was entirely normal. But that did not last long.

"..."

Uriel’s body shook.

Then, under the horrified gazes of all those within the mirror space, his skin burst off his body as scintillating shards of ivory glass, leaving him as nothing more than a suit of flesh.

He swayed more as his skin clattered across the seas around him. His blood spilled, and his flesh squirmed, his nerves firing in utter confusion.

Even his body seemed unable to determine whether he was alive or dead.

KAH!

Uriel’s flesh convulsed, and from its fibrous layers, worms emerged—only to rapidly turn into butterflies of gold and amethyst that sank into his flesh and began eating him.

"Ha... haha...!"

Uriel’s hollow laughter echoed.

His body caught fire, radiant white flames consuming him whole, just as his ivory hair turned into a sea of dark flames that burned with malice.

He keeled over, his back splitting open as six pairs of dark feathered wings unfurled, each dozens of meters long, carrying sharp, demonic intent with them.

His eyes became a canvas of pure ivory—so much so that he seemed blind.

"Hahaha! Of course!"

His body grew in size, from his six-foot-five frame to a towering figure of eight feet, overflowing with maddening force.

His aether presence returned, and all fabrics bent and twisted toward him, space collapsing in a rain of shards and void flames.

But the flames did nothing to him.

The shards and void flames assembled, forming a haloed crown that floated atop his head—a profane creed of his majesty.

TIH!

A wet squelch echoed, and in the center of his chest, a dark core appeared, reflecting a single eye—an eye that burned with rose flames.

"...!"

Miquella’s eyes widened. "Madness... the Dragon Madness..."

In the far distance, Lucianna found herself grinning madly, her heart hammering in her chest with excitement, while Samael covered his mouth, his face twisted in pure horror at the sight.

Emrys roared, his heart turning chaotic at what he saw. He could tell Uriel was losing something precious—something irretrievable—and he needed to stop it. But Lucianna wouldn’t let them leave.

Emrys roared again, his rage just as deep as Samael’s fear and Lucianna’s twisted lust.

But none were as shaken as Miquella.

"The Dragons..."

...

Uriel spread his arms wide, and his laughter came to an abrupt stop. His glaive was gone, having fused into his body to spark his transformation.

But it was fine.

He didn’t need a weapon. Not anymore.

"Here I am."

His voice was shockingly calm; deep as the seas, carrying an authority as vast as the skies. Yet there was no malice in his tone.

No rage. No insanity. Nothing.

There was nothing but endless apathy and sorrow in his voice. The contrast was jarring, a voice as soft as it was rough, yet undeniably real.

"I have become the beast you bred me to be." He smiled slightly, the butterflies still consuming his flesh fluttering as he did so.

Each flap of their wings, however small, sent chaotic currents of compressed air toward Miquella.

"Now, what will it be?" His smile deepened. "Will you execute me? For now, not only have I betrayed my soul, but my flesh as well, hm?"

He took a step forward and—

"Tell me, Miquella."

—he appeared in front of her.

"..."

Miquella looked up at him, fear absent from her visage.

Her features eased, returning to their usual calm, and she, too, smiled. "Would you like me to execute you, oh beast of madness?"

Her voice shook the fabrics.

"Or would you like to live?"

The words dug deep into Uriel, and somehow, she managed to pull at the strings of his soul, even while he stood so empowered.

He ignored the flood of memories that surged through his mind as a result of her attack and shook his head. "Even while so mighty, my Will still remains a chink to be exploited."

Miquella chuckled. "Then that means you were never mighty."

Her grip around her blade tightened, and her body exploded with power. The Spiritual Laws of the butterfly shifted, and she tapped into one of its most complex abilities.

Her mind bloomed with resonance—the authority of change—and she peered into the tides of time, into its endless possibilities.

Her Spiritual Laws of the butterfly harmonised with her will and locked onto a path—a path where her blade could not miss, and Uriel could not live. 𝘧𝓇ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝘣𝓃ℴ𝓋𝑒𝑙.𝑐𝘰𝑚

A path that set his death in stone.

WHOOOSH!

All her aether burned in a single, decisive motion, and she sliced across the air.

Or at least, she tried to.

"Hm. Not so sturdy after all," Uriel said as he looked at her arm, the one he had torn off her body as she swung.

Miquella staggered back, blood jetting from her wound as shock coloured her face, for the second time already.

Spiritual Laws couldn’t be ignored. She didn’t understand how Uriel had done it.

SHOO!

Her butterflies rushed to her, aiming to activate Chrysalis, to heal her and unveil more of her power. But before they could reach her, they began to rot, turning to ash that drifted with the wind.

"To ash. As all things will be."

Uriel clenched down, and her severed arm turned to ash as well, fading into nothing in mere moments.

He wasn’t wielding any new form of power. He was using the simplest form of resonant dominance. But his Will had become corrosive.

Anything it touched crumbled to ash. His Will had become decay incarnate, whether directed at himself or his opponents.

"I abhor death. So, I will not kill you."

He took a step forward, and he punched. He didn’t touch her. He completely missed.

Yet the compressed wave of air that followed tore a hole through her midsection regardless.

He opened his fist into a palm and flicked it across the air as he took another step forward. Light aether jetted out from his motion, and Miquella’s body was cut in half.

Her form separated—her upper half sliding off from her lower—just as he stepped past her, his gaze void and uncaring.

"But maybe I will. Who knows."

A pause.

"Not much matters anyway."

His wings spread wide, then flapped—

WHOOOSH!

—and he vanished instantly, leaving the crystal-glass sea as nothing more than a vast, compressed crater in his wake.

Miquella’s remains vaporised before she could even attempt to heal herself.