Re: Timeless Apocalypse-Chapter 186: The Prisoner of Ivory

"Death to the Opposer!"

Deafening chants echoed.

"Death to the Fallen!"

Billions, trillions, quadrillions—the amount of people filling the stands were beyond comprehension, for mortals and ascendants alike.

Each person standing amidst the roaring crowd stood as powerhouses known across the vast seas of the cosmos; the weakest of them all were ninth step youth, budding legends soon to rise to Godhood, while the most powerful were ancient Gods ruling over voids and universes alike.

The power radiating from the crowd was shocking, the seas of energy overwhelming, and the scope of it all stood as pure insanity.

And yet, each of them stood as mere audience. Mere commoners, too poor to afford any higher form of standing in the scope of the unfurling event.

"Death to the usurper!"

They were all within a gigantic coliseum, one that floated in the depths of an emerald void across which countless golden stars could be seen.

The stands of the coliseum were of an ancient bronze color, its seats a deep oak brown, and the rails separating each of the trillions of rows made of ancient black steel.

The coliseum sank inward towards a sandy plane, where normally, ancient warriors would battle against the most foul of the universe’s plagues.

But today, a different scene unfolded.

They weren’t staring down at the bloody sand field, but rather staring up.

They stared at a floating platform of black marble standing in the skies.

SHOO!

Suddenly, they all fell quiet—from soul-rupturing clamor to deathly silence in a heartbeat.

Atop the platform, floating far above it, a figure appeared.

"Greetings."

The man who appeared was an infamous one.

Athoris.

Athoris was a short man—no, to call him a man would be wrong. His body was that of a child’s, a little boy, his face plump and full of innocence, his eyes a sparkling blue hue.

His face was freckled, and his short hair flowed in shades of blonde and gold. He wore a simple yet elegant suit.

He was quite dashing—or maybe ’cute’—despite the dissonance between his juvenile body and his deep, almost horrifyingly potent voice.

His voice echoed like a cry of the abyss.

Athoris smiled, then panned across the gigantic crowd sitting below and around him. His mind was such that noting every single person present wasn’t much of a challenge.

He did it casually.

"Today—"

He waved a hand.

"—we bear witness to a Tyrant’s execution."

The black marble platform he floated over shook, and suddenly, a spell that had been placed upon it shattered, revealing a figure that had been hidden from their sight.

"...!" Gasps echoed, and murmurs lit ablaze across the crowds.

The figure was that of a man. He kneeled on the platform, arms bound by heavy silver chains and outstretched to the platform’s ends.

His feet, too, were bound to the platform. Around his chest, dozens of talismans could be seen, each incredibly complex, and across his jade-white skin, dozens of runes were drawn.

The man lay with his head low, his long, matted white hair hanging over his face. His sculpted frame, that of a god in the flesh, was covered in ghastly wounds, gashes, and bruises.

Most wondered how he was even alive.

They were all powerhouses in their own right; they could sense his souls were shattered, his spark collapsed, his mind torn, his body poisoned, his cores crippled, and his powers stripped.

And yet...

WHOOOOSH!

The aura he emitted was unlike anything any of them had ever felt—so deep and potent most immediately froze, and others directly fainted.

If not for the endless bindings placed on the man, it would be hard to say if any would have lived to witness his presence.

Athoris looked down at the haggard prisoner and sneered.

"Worry not, the foul beast cannot harm any of you."

He clapped his hands. "Not as long as I live."

The prisoner’s aura was suppressed as the platform activated and his bindings were reinforced, becoming even more stringent.

The chains tightened, and the prisoner’s golden blood spilled across the platform. But he didn’t make a sound.

"Today, a foul creature shall die, and today, we will rejoice."

He smiled. "Do not witness this scene with a heart full of pity, for the beast deserves no mercy. No, witness it proud."

"The creature’s death will be the spark to an Epoch of glory."

The cheers returned, louder than ever, and Athoris’ smile deepened. His gaze panned upwards, looking at nothing.

He looked at the empty green void above. No, more specifically, he looked at the stars dotting the void.

He knew they were watching. ’Let’s put on a show for them.’

Athoris floated down until his feet touched the platform, then, with a wide grin, he made his way toward the prisoner, uncaring for his orders.

He had been told to never get within ten feet of the beast, to never look it in the eyes, and the worst offense, according to his superiors, would be to talk to it.

He didn’t care, though. He was an esteemed G—

"You’re quite foolish."

The voice was smooth, like the softest glow of the moon and the most tender of hands, wrapping around the soul and ensnaring it into a world of eternal obedience.

Like the purest rays of the sun.

KAH!

Athoris suddenly fell to his knees, his heart palpitating and his vision blinking between darkness and light. Unsure why, he began to scratch and claw at his face.

His nails dug into his flesh, tearing his skin off, but his regeneration was such that his face mended instantly.

No matter how much he tore, there was always more to tear, and no matter how much blood he spilled, there was always more to spill.

Athoris’s blood was a radiant blue, and it began to pool beneath him alongside chunks of his flesh.

’No...’ Athoris felt like he was trapped within his own body.

He was still conscious, but he couldn’t do anything to stop himself. It didn’t hurt, but the humiliation—especially while knowing they were watching—sank deep into his soul.

’No! No! No! Stop!’ he screamed, but his body did not listen. In fact, his suit of flesh began to laugh, just as his soul wailed.

’No!’ the soul roared. "Haha!" the body laughed.

"You ought to listen to your elders, young man." A chuckle echoed. "They, too, learned the hard way."

"Ah." The voice sighed. "Unlike your elders, I’m not much of a fan of bullying juniors."

Athoris suddenly was...free.

His heart beat once more and, shaken to his core, he fell back, crawling and dragging himself away from the prisoner.

His breaths were labored, his upper half drenched in blood, his previous suave entirely gone. His head whipped to the side, rushing to check on the audience but—

"Damn it!"

They all bore expressions of pure, unfiltered horror.

Was the prisoner not...bound?

Panic spread across the crowd, and many found themselves at an impasse, unsure whether to run or remain still so as not to offend the man.

Athoris hurried to his feet, rage and shame coloring his face.

"DAMN IT!"

Athoris slapped his palms together and—

...

"Death to the Opposer!"

Deafening chants echoed.

"Death to the Fallen!"

Time had been...rewound.

"Death to the usurper!"

Athoris appeared in the skies once more, and rather than speaking like before, his aura directly unfurled and pressed onto the crowd.

It was so heavy and violent it summoned nothing but silence.

All looked up at him, gazes full of confusion and shock, unsure why he, of all people, would be enraged on such a day.

Athoris was part of a faction that had a particularly dark history with the prisoner. Across the lands of his people, endless celebrations occurred.

In fact, most knew the current scene was being broadcast across the universe, all tuning in to watch the end of the infamous legend.

They were all confused.

"Today, we bear witness to a Tyrant’s end."

He clasped his hands behind his back, then slowly floated down until his feet gently touched the platform.

Athoris’ blonde hair swayed with the wind, and his blue eyes sparkled with somber radiance. He didn’t turn to face the prisoner; his dark expression remained fixed on the crowd.

"The Serpent of Ivory has fallen. He who descends from the fallen will lose his scales as they once lost their wings."

His voice boomed across the coliseum.

"Today, with the beast’s death, we put to rest an unknown number of souls, each left broken by his foul and tormented mark."

Athoris turned and faced the prisoner. He took a step forward, then stopped.

He waved a hand, and a long blade appeared in his grasp; its handle was of bright silver, its pommel that of a screeching Phoenix, and its blade not steel, but radiant golden flames.

"TODAY!" Athoris roared. "We bring an end to his reign of terror!"

The crowd remained silent. But then, Athoris brandished his blade in the air, and something deep within them stirred.

Memories of horrors they had endured flashed across their minds.

"DEATH!"

They roared back at Athoris.

"Aht, aht, aht." Amidst the deafening clamor, a whisper reached Athoris’ ears, and he froze.

"Time holds no meaning to me."

...

Uriel had been watching from the beginning.

He stood in his usual form of spectral white flames upon the marble platform, staring at the chained prisoner.

Staring at himself.

He didn’t pay attention to Athoris, to the crowd, or to the alleged horrors they screamed he had committed.

He didn’t pay attention to anything else but the man kneeling before him.

He didn’t pay attention to anything but the foul and broken beast awaiting execution before what he could only call a cosmic coliseum.

Uriel got closer to the prisoner, then squatted down.

Suddenly, the prisoner shifted, and his gaze lifted just slightly—just enough for Uriel to catch sight of the two burning golden stars that were his eyes.

"Time holds no meaning to me."

Uriel didn’t react, even as he felt the prisoner’s gaze pierce time and settle upon him. His grandmother had done the same not long ago.

He wasn’t surprised.

"..."

The prisoner chuckled. "Your eyes."

"You deviated already. Good."

Still, Uriel didn’t answer. He only stared.

"I know, I know. I don’t look the best right now." His chains rattled. "But I promise I’m usually quite dashing."

"Ascendance and Godhood do wonders to the face."

Silence followed, heavy and poignant. It was almost hard to believe Uriel was the younger one, his burning rose pupils so sharp he seemed a thousand years older than he truly was.

"..."

The prisoner’s gaze met Uriel’s, and for a moment, hesitation flickered deep within him. He slowly looked away.

He let out a hollow, broken laugh, devoid of humor. "Oh my."

"Who would’ve thought even the past would abandon me in the end, hm?" He smiled. "Or maybe you’re the future. Who knows."

The prisoner’s gaze shifted, trailing down Uriel’s face before stopping at his chest.

"Oh."

He laid eyes on Uriel’s runic scar.

"Is this what makes you so mighty?"

He shattered it.

"Let’s see if—"

Uriel closed his eyes and sighed. He didn’t even seem to feel the pain of his shattering will or the scream of his dying runic scar.

Had he truly fallen...so low?

A tear ran down his face. Then another. And another.

He wept.

"...I—...no...don’t..." The prisoner was suddenly at a loss for words.

He looked at Uriel crying and instead began to laugh. But the echoes of his cackles were such that it was hard to tell if he was laughing—or crying as well.

Or both.

Past and future, past and present, present and future—whatever the truth may be, they both seemed broken. One consumed by grief, the other shattered beyond words.

WHOOSH!

Winds swept across the frozen coliseum. All were frozen in time, Athoris included.

Uriel rose to his feet. He wiped his tears, then slicked his flaming hair back.

He threw the prisoner one last glance, burning the memory deep into the most primordial parts of not just his mind, but his soul.

He would never forget.

Then, he turned to the frozen Athoris.

He would never forget. 𝐟𝚛𝕖𝚎𝕨𝗲𝐛𝚗𝐨𝐯𝐞𝕝.𝐜𝗼𝗺

Then, he looked away.

"I promise."