So close to death, and in such an unforeseen situation, Uriel didn't break.
He focused.
His spark bloomed, pouring a bucket of cold water over his mind and lulling it into a state of ancient, unbreakable focus.
Momentarily, he forgot the pain, the burning in his lungs, his coughing, and anything else that demanded his attention.
All he focused on was survival, and his thoughts began to flow.
'When she tapped her staff on the ground, it acted as a bridge between her Natal Aether, contained within her core, and the ambient atmospheric aether.'
'Something happened in that instant, and a connection between the two formed, creating the runes—runes born from a mix of her burned aether and the burned aether in the atmosphere itself.'
'It caused the runes to be sustained by the energy of the world, while still being controlled by her, by her core.'
'She gets all the benefits, with none of the burden.'
His pupils blazed, such intense light filling them that they seemed to have become golden flames.
'Every different attack, every different spell, requires a new arrangement of runes. But they remain the same runes. So the nature of the attack's variability is rooted in the spell circle itself, in its structure and configuration.'
'She created the large spell circle behind her as a sentry, to offload the mental load of constantly rearranging the spell's structure—an automatic spell-casting spell, rooted in her core, rooted in her mind.'
BANG!
Time slowed.
'So if I…'
From Uriel's gigantic True Core, a flood of aether surged outward, filling the air and turning it into a field of chaotic, clashing flows that violently interfered with one another.
'…rupture the link between her core and the world, I can buy time.'
The gigantic spell circle behind the little witch shattered, and her eyes widened in shock. The spell circles that had been forming over Uriel's broken body shattered as well, collapsing into nothing.
From her lips, blood sputtered, a brutal backlash from the sudden rupture slamming into her core at full force.
"…what?!"
Uriel weakly pushed himself to his feet, bloodied and broken, with more than a few fractured ribs. His clothes were torn and burned away, hanging off him in ruined scraps.
It hurt, far more than most could fathom. Pain roared through his body in waves, sharp and merciless. But from his gaze, none would have been able to tell.
All that one would see was a sea of tranquil gold, undisturbed, unreachable, and utterly calm.
He swayed on his feet, catching himself from falling more than once. Though his body was grievously hurt, his core and his mind certainly weren't.
'Now I just need to learn how she linked her core and the world.'
…
Enoch blinked, and the world shifted.
He arrived in a dimensional space not unlike the one Uriel had appeared in, with the only difference being that his was a field of red stretching endlessly in all directions.
It was quite the sight, almost hell-like in its vastness and hostility.
Enoch's expression remained neutral, but his eyes were cold and still, lifeless and distant, as though nothing here surprised him.
He didn't utter any words. He didn't even think.
Shadows coiled and gathered at his side, twisting and folding in on themselves, and a Lie Eater emerged, forming into a magnificent longsword in his grasp.
"I am immortal."
His blade caught on fire, a radiant gold flame dancing across its edge before rapidly turning dark emerald, vicious and thick, clinging to the steel like living malice.
"I am pure."
The flames on his blade intensified further, so hot the air itself began to waver, heavy and distorted by the sheer heat. Yet his body didn't feel any of it.
He calmly looked at the blade.
BANG!
His core thrummed violently, and in a single beat, half of his aether burned away, consumed to fuel the flame. It swelled to ridiculous levels, towering and ferocious.
He nodded once. 'That'll be enough.'
[First Wave!]
A man appeared in the distance, woven from strings of dark light that slowly solidified into flesh.
He was tall, ridiculously so, with a frame packed full of coiling, refined muscle. Dull grey skin hugged his body tightly, covered in tribal tattoos made of jagged lines and rough angles.
His face, however, was quite human. Bald, with tranquil dark brown eyes, the man wore heavy beast skins draped over his massive form. He looked like nothing a Berserker was supposed to look like.
In fact, his eyes were so calm, so at peace, that if not for his hulking physique, he might have been mistaken for a sage.
His gaze settled on Enoch.
"Perfect Berserker Foundation," he commented, his deep voice dry and emotionless. "Perfect Blade Mastery."
"Perfect Death Spark."
He nodded once. "Good seed. Really good seed."
Enoch, fully aware of who this projection truly was, lightly bowed his head and accepted the praise. "I'm flattered, though I'm still lacking in too many aspects."
"Please, enlighten me. I feel that if a senior such as yourself helps me, I can reach it."
"I can see it."
The tall, stoic man smiled, sharp white teeth flashing briefly.
"Of course. Would you like me to turn…" he glanced to the left, at nothing in particular, "…this thing off?"
Enoch shook his head. "No. Let them see. Let them see the heights I'll reach."
The stoic man suddenly burst into mad laughter, his grin widening as his voice boomed with such force that the ground itself began to shake beneath them.
"Good!"
His aether exploded outward, and he vanished.
CLANG!
Blade met sword, and the latter instantly lost. Enoch's Lie Eater shattered on impact, fragments scattering as his feet slid backward for meters across the ground.
His arms shook and trembled violently, the mere aftershock nearly crippling them. His neutral expression finally broke, and he grinned.
Another Lie Eater blade formed in his hand.
SHAH!
Enoch ducked beneath another punch, too slow to realize he had moved straight into a rising knee. With a sickening crack, it slammed into his face, his nose breaking as his head snapped back.
For a split second, consciousness left him.
And that was all the old man needed.
BOOOM!
What woke Enoch was a punch slamming into his stomach with the weight of a mountain, followed by an echoing wave of aether that tore through his veins and damaged his core.
He threw up a mouthful of blood, but he smiled, almost as if the pain were pushing him toward a high he desperately wanted to return to.
Seeing that expression only excited the old man further.
Still airborne from the punch, Enoch was defenseless as another followed. But in a blink, a Lie Eater shield formed, blocking the blow at the last possible moment.
His mind snapped back into clarity. He landed, harshly, knees wobbling, but he stayed upright. He spat a dollop of blood to the side and slicked his hair back.
Then he dove back in.