The cave was wide.
The ground of rock, and the walls of dark material, covered in snaking lines of crimson.
In a corner of the cave, a fire could be seen, lit and blazing, a pot of stew hanging over the fla and bags of various items set not too far away.
A stool was positioned facing the fire, yet at that mont, none were sitting on it.
"..."
Not far from the fire, barely half a hundred ters away, a five ters deep and three and a half ter across crater had been dug, filled with clear erald water, hot and steamy.
Fog filled the cave, warm and cold air dancing around one another.
Uriel lay in the waters, naked, back against one of the circular edges, arms spread wide and rested over the edge, his head leaned back in pure relaxation.
His eyes were closed, and his breaths rhythmic.
"Oh my," he slowly opened his eyes. "I should’ve been doing this instead of whatever we had going on in the settlent."
He stared at the ceiling, falling quiet once again.
’I wonder if I’ll one day miss these monts of peace. The church wasn’t peaceful, and yet I still miss it. But the days in the settlent were peaceful, yet I still also miss them.’
He wasn’t sure if he missed these monts of peace, or if it were the people that made them so peaceful that he missed.
’Maybe I’m thinking about it wrong. I don’t need to separate either of them.’
He missed Ayah’s house almost as much as he did Ayah herself, and Enoch as well, of course. The sa could be said for the church, Lilith, Arthur, Mother Hadith and all the people he’d grown up with.
It hadn’t been that long since he left the duo, yet he already missed the laughter, talks and company and constant things they taught him.
"..."
Suddenly, he felt lonely.
’Just a day ago I was convinced to suddenly be a cutthroat survivor, one who wouldn’t trust anyone and would be independent, and now here I am.’
’Yearning for my companions and attention, wallowing in sorrow as I face my loneliness.’ He chuckled. ’Am I bipolar?’
’Or maybe dumb? Maybe both. Probably both.’
His mind quieted down for a beat, before he laughed again.
’It’s so weird. Why am I begging to return to those I know will mutilate ? Am I a masochist? A stupid bipolar masochist.’
’What a title.’
Uriel reliving his mories had shed light on a lot of truths, both regarding his past but also the subtle truths he’d been unable to perceive, displayed by Ayah and Enoch.
They hid a lot from him, and he was almost entirely sure that they hid it because of sha. He was convinced both of them had done sothing to him, either in the past or present, or maybe even future, that’d hurt him.
He was convinced of it.
And yet, he still missed and loved them all the sa.
This truth remained the sa for his grandmother.
Currently, the only reason he fought to live could be said to be to save and free her from whatever binds held her down. Beyond that, he didn’t care about much else.
If he died, lived, or whatever else, he didn’t care as long as he freed her.
But why?
Why was he so eager to free soone who’d done nothing but coldly tear him apart in her madness?
Because he loved her, and he didn’t know why.
Why was he so indifferent to his life and death, yet so determined to... persevere?
He had no idea.
Uriel shook his head, sighing.
’Of course I got the bad type of insanity.’ He sneered. ’Why couldn’t I get the usual madness people get, seeing ghosts and stuff.’
’Man, it would’ve been nice to have an imaginary buddy.’
’How cool would it have been to get a talking dragon... or maybe a singing phoenix? Both, yes, both. By the gods.’
’But no, instead I get the mind of an idiotic bipolar masochist. Truly, the gods must adore . Aren’t I their greatest jester?’
’Between heaven and earth, who jests better than I?’
He laughed. ’Whatever.’
[Report is complete!]
He smiled. "I like your sense of timing, Ophanis, great work. I almost went spiraling again."
[...]
"You’re too humble," he sank deeper into the waters, folding his arms over his chest. "Alright."
The warm waters sent tremors of pleasure through him.
"Let’s begin with my limits and the facets of said limits. I’m all ears."
[Compiled data shows that you stand as a Perfect G-Rank Pioneer, with all limits broken and your Scale’s scope maximised to the utmost.]
[In the G-Rank, it would be nearly impossible for your raw power to get even more exaggerated without harming your foundation. It is recomnded that you break through soon to keep your montum.]
[Your offensive power lies around that of an early non-physical type B-Ranker, to a peak C-Ranker at worst. Your offensive effectiveness, though, is around that of an F-Rank, which is considered terrible.]
"Effectiveness?" He raised a brow, confused.
[It refers to how well you can wield said power. A B-Rank who wields the blade as a ans to an end, and another who wields the blade like a painter wields a brush cannot be compared.]
[It’s a matter of skill and finesse. Technique defines raw power, and without it, power is aningless.]
"Mm. What an elaborate way to say I’m a dunce. I could’ve guessed as much, though. I’ll get better."
He smiled. "Keep going."
[Upon revision, your effectiveness actually seems to be that of an early G-Ranker, relative to the amount of power you have and skill you should have.]
His lip twitched, but he didn’t interrupt.
[Your defensive power stands at the peaks of the A-Rank tank specialist at worst, and early S-Rank of the mightiest tanks.]
He whistled, genuinely impressed.
’Seems I chose my little turtle well.’
[Your defensive effectiveness is even worse than your offensive effectiveness, standing as that of an unawakened mortal.]
[With the sheer potential of the Terracrule beasts, your defensive prowess should be miles beyond the first step.]
With half his face subrged beneath the waters, bubbles rising as he blew air into the warm water, he didn’t seem very bothered.
"Mm. That’s good to know," he uttered, his voice muffled beneath the waters and bubbles.
His Mage Tool almost seed mildly annoyed at his reaction, despite its emotionless and featureless essence.
[One more facet remains.]
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