Corpses filled the large crater's depths, the earthen walls covered in bone and marrow and the muddy ground a field of blood and water, soaking limbs and bodies alike.
Rain fell heavily, peeling across Uriel's body.
He floated a few inches atop the water, akin to a deity, a wheel of runes at his back, an armour of darkness draping over him and a glaive of light in his grasp.
His eyes were entirely white, no pupil visible, and his mind lost in the depths of a mad trance.
He was so deep into it he couldn't feel the deep gash torn across his chest, flesh and bone cleaved apart to reveal his beating heart.
Such a wound would've killed any without his shell, and he, even with it, was at his limits, the other dozens of deep gashes across his frame weighing him down.
Had it not been for his shell's ability to make bleeding out impossible, he would've already died, and had it not been for the trance he was lost in, the pain would've knocked him out.
"…"
