Author's note: This chapter is full of references to various series and doesn't really contribute much to the plot, so just enjoy the lowbrow comedy.
....
It was the fourth day, and Uriel was making a snow sculpture.
After three days asleep, he woke up on the fourth day full of energy. After completing his morning routine, he stepped out of the Rhino completely bundled up, gazing at the landscape—a vast expanse of white covered in snow.
There was no more snowstorm. After all, he had eliminated the Winter Beast, returning the Antarctic center to a white wasteland. Of course, cities still remained, but they were ghost towns covered in snow and ice.
Gathering snow, he formed a sphere, then another smaller one. Using two pieces of coal, he placed them as eyes, and finally used two dry twigs he had in his dark storage, creating his first snowman.
"What are you doing?" asked Shade suddenly.
"Are you not watching? I'm making a snowman," he replied, looking at his creation.
"Why?"
"Because I've always wanted to make one. Besides, it would ruin my image if they found out I like making snow figures. Think of the disappointed fans."
Shade rolled his eyes.
Looking at the snow, he had an idea.
Bending down, he grabbed a snowball and threw it, shattering Uriel's snowman.
Uriel's smile died instantly as he watched his creation, which he had named Pepe Primero, whose life had been ephemeral.
Slowly, his eyes looked at Shade, who was whistling distractedly.
Forming a snowball, he threw it at Shade, making him fall backward.
"Hey, why did you do that!"
"You killed Pepe Primero. He had a family."
"It's just a snowman!"
"His son was going to be named Choper, and his mother Maria," he said angrily.
"Now what do I tell them?" Uriel pointed to two larger snowmen—the first was a small one with a hat, and the other had a scarf with a vague feminine outline.
"Tell them he was walking down the street when a meteorite fell on him."
"Stop with the damn references."
"Fine, enough. I'm going to sue you for mental violence. Prepare your lawyers."
"You don't even have lawyers."
"Oh no? Let me introduce you to Mr. Miles Edgeworth."
Shade pointed to a snowman wearing an elegant red lawyer's suit.
"Ah, yeah? Then let me introduce you to my lawyer, Mr. Saul Goodman"
Shade clicked his tongue.
Damn, that guy is good, but Mr. Miles Edgeworth never fails, he thought to himself.
Uriel smiled as a gavel sound was heard.
"Order in the court," said a new voice—Soul, dressed as a judge.
"Let's hear your testimonies, prepared by your lawyers," said Soul, taking a cup of coffee.
"Your Honor, my client suffers from irreversible trauma," declared Saul Goodman, adjusting his red tie with a carefree air. "A snowman named Pepe Primero, with dreams and aspirations, was brutally murdered. Is that not enough to consider mental violence?"
Miles Edgeworth crossed his arms, his distinctive burgundy vest impeccable. "Objection. A snowman has no rights. It's frozen water with decorations."
"Frozen water with a family!" Saul turned to the imaginary audience. "Mrs. Maria and little Choper were waiting at home. What do we tell them now?"
Judge Soul banged his gavel. "Order. Does the prosecution have any witnesses?"
Shade took the stand, still with snow in his hair. "It was just a joke. Uriel attacked me first."
"First? You murdered Pepe Primero in cold blood," Uriel interjected from the prosecutor's chair. "And not content with that, you insinuated a 'meteorite.' That's premeditation."
"Objection," said Edgeworth. "That's speculation."
Saul stood up slowly. "Speculation? Allow me to present Exhibit A." He pulled a miniature snowman from his pocket. "This is Pepe Segundo, the victim's twin brother. Look at him! He has the same coal eyes! The identical twigs!"
"That's ridiculous," Edgeworth replied.
"Ridiculous?" Saul activated an old portable DVD player. "Here we have security footage from the Rhino. Courtesy of the Antarctic Guardian Angels. Observe how Shade laughs as he destroys Pepe Primero."
On the small screen, grainy footage showed the scene. Shade, in dramatic slow motion, threw the snowball.
"That footage is edited!" Shade protested.
Soul adjusted his glasses. "Can you prove that?"
Edgeworth cleared his throat. "Your Honor, I request a recess to analyze the video."
"Denied. This court has no time for technicalities. Next piece of evidence."
Saul smiled triumphantly. "I call to the stand an expert in winter psychology... Mrs. Nieves Pérez."
A snowman with thick-rimmed glasses was brought to the stand by Soul.
"Can you describe the emotional damage?"
The snowman remained silent.
"Excellent testimony. Proceed."
Edgeworth jumped to his feet. "The witness hasn't said anything!"
"Exactly," said Saul in a grave voice. "He's so affected by the tragedy that he's lost the ability to speak. Do you want more proof, Mr. Edgeworth?"
The gray-haired prosecutor rested his head in his hands. "I hate this job."
Soul took another sip of coffee. "The court accepts silence as valid testimony. Let's continue."
Shade interjected: "This is a farce! Uriel hit me first with a snowball. That's assault!"
"Assault?" Saul approached Shade. "My client was simply delivering therapeutic snow. You, on the other hand, committed first-degree murder of an inanimate being with feelings."
"It doesn't have feelings!"
"How do you know?" asked Uriel from his seat. "Have you looked inside it? Have you seen its soul?"
Edgeworth attempted a counterattack. "Your Honor, the defense is appealing to emotions, not logic."
"Objection," interrupted Saul. "This is a trial for mental violence, not a quantum physics debate. Emotions are precisely the point."
Judge Soul nodded. "Attorney Goodman is correct. Proceed with your closing statement."
Saul stood up, adjusted his tie, and walked toward the imaginary jury. "Ladies and gentlemen, what is a snowman? Frozen water? Or is it a dream come true? Uriel always wanted to make one. And in a post-apocalyptic world covered in snow and ghost cities, that small moment of humanity was sacred. Then came Shade. And he destroyed it. Not out of necessity. Not by accident. For fun. Is that the world we want? One where a man can't make a snowman without fear of some brute snatching it away?"
He turned to Shade. "My client does not ask for prison. He asks for justice. He asks for recognition. He asks that Pepe Primero did not die in vain."
Silence in the courtroom.
Soul lowered his coffee cup. "Does the prosecution have anything to add?"
Edgeworth sighed. "This is all absurd."
"Absurd?" Saul smiled. "As absurd as suing for mental violence in post-apocalyptic Antarctica. And yet, here we are."
Soul banged the gavel. "The time for the verdict has come. This court finds Shade..."
Dramatic pause.
"... guilty on all charges. He must pay symbolic compensation: build three snowmen in honor of Pepe Primero, including an exact replica, and attend winter anger management therapy."
"Therapy for what?" Shade shouted.
"Order." Another gavel strike.
Uriel smiled widely as he raised a new snowman: Pepe Tercero, wearing a small judge's robe.
"Justice prevails," said Soul, pouring himself more coffee.
Shade crossed his arms, grumbling. "I hate all of you."
Saul Goodman winked at Uriel. "Another case closed. Call me when you want to sue someone for sock theft."
As the snow continued to fall softly, Uriel raised Pepe Tercero toward the gray sky. Pepe Primero would never be forgotten.
...
"Wow, that was pretty interesting and full of references," said Shade, looking at the dozens of snowmen hastily constructed by dozens of darkness hands.
"You're telling me," replied Uriel.
"That was fun," said Soul.
"So what do we do now?" asked Shade.
"Do you want to ski down an enormous slope a few kilometers high at full speed?"
"Oh, absolutely. Can I wear a purple suit?" asked Shade.
"Of course."
After driving along the snow-covered roads, it took them an hour to reach a frozen mountain. Upon reaching the summit, Uriel created three boards to slide down the snow in a race. Curiously, Shade wore a purple suit with a clown mask, and Uriel wore a black suit with a bat cape.
After a countdown, the three began descending at full speed, trying to make the others fall.
After descending for nearly a minute, Uriel raised a wall of snow that generated a massive collision between them all, sending them tumbling in a great avalanche until they reached the bottom.
In the end, they ended up with their heads in the snow and their bodies buried beneath.
After getting out, Uriel lit a campfire and took out some marshmallows, which they devoured.
"What else can we do?" asked Shade, frowning.
"What if we go to the open sea and live a pirate adventure?"
"Where will we get a boat?" asked Soul.
Uriel smiled, looking at his bracelet, which slid off before taking the form of a wooden boat without a sail—since it could be propelled by essence.
"We're going to use a supreme memory as a boat?"
"Yes. I tried to recreate the Black Pearl, but the essence cost is enormous, so I kept it simple," said Uriel, returning the boat to its jade bracelet form.
"Have you tried replicating Han Solo's Millennium Falcon?"
"No, I have no idea how it's made, and I don't have enough essence to do it. So we're stuck with the boat."
After they finished eating the marshmallows, Uriel stored the Rhino. After ensuring it was in his dark storage, he created two darkness wings and flew toward the coast. Upon arriving, he created the boat and called Soul, handing him a fishing rod along with another for Shade.
The three sailed a few hundred meters. They threw a lantern filled with soul fragments and abomination blood to attract nightmare creatures.
After waiting less than a minute, all three fishing rods went taut. After struggling for a while, they managed to pull out an enormous squid with eyes instead of suckers and a massive saw-like beak.
"Oh, it's a corrupt demon," said Soul.
"Do you want squid for dinner?" asked Uriel with a sinister smile. Shade likewise smiled wickedly. Soul looked at the squid with an intense gaze.
The aura emanating from the three made the corrupt demon feel terror, and it sank into the depths. But it never imagined that not a second later, a hundred-meter-long sea serpent would chase it and kill it shortly after.
Back on the coast, an enormous几十-meter-long corpse of an aberrant squid-like abomination fell.
Uriel extracted the three soul cores and stored them in his dark storage. A few hours later, the enormous squid was being prepared over a large bonfire on the coast. The enormous corpse was being devoured by an enormous dragon, a 1.80-meter-tall demon covered in bone plates and rocks emitting cold blue flame light, a beautiful purple-haired woman, and a young black-haired man.
In the distance, a dark knight observed the water to ensure nothing emerged from that place.
...
The next day, Uriel was sitting on a therapy sofa. Shade was sitting in an elegant black chair, wearing glasses and holding a notebook, beginning the therapy session.
Shade asked Uriel what was bothering him.
Uriel sighed deeply before beginning.
"Everything, Shade. Everything bothers me. We've been in this damn Antarctica for days, and I don't know... I don't know if what I'm doing is right."
Shade nodded, writing something in his notebook with a professional air.
"I mean, look around us. We killed the Winter Beast. Great. But then... what? We stay here making snowmen and falsely suing each other?"
"Continue," said Shade, not looking up from his notebook. His pencil moved quickly.
"And it's not just that. I've been thinking about all the abominations we've killed. About all the decisions I've made. Am I really the hero people think I am? Or am I just someone who enjoys destroying everything in his path? Because sometimes... sometimes I feel like I do it for fun, Shade. And that terrifies me."
Shade nodded again. His pencil kept moving.
"And what about the court martial we held yesterday? Was that necessary? Or did I just want to humiliate someone to feel better about myself? Because I've been replaying the Pepe Primero case in my head, and I don't know... maybe I went too far with the Miles Edgeworth thing and the imaginary jury."
Uriel continued talking for several more minutes. He described his existential doubts, his fears about the future, his growing feeling of emptiness despite all the power he had accumulated. He spoke about the loneliness of leadership, about the weight of decisions that affected hundreds of thousands of people, about how sometimes he just wanted to disappear into the darkness and never come back.
Shade kept nodding. His pencil never stopped.
"And the worst part," Uriel continued, "is that I don't know if this will ever end. The campaign, the nightmares, the tyrants... there's always something else. There's always another threat. And I just want... I don't know... a break. A moment when I can sit down and not have to worry about whether something is going to explode or someone is going to die."
Shade nodded once more.
"So what do you think, Shade? I really value your perspective on all this."
Silence.
"Shade?"
Uriel stopped and looked at his companion carefully.
Shade was absorbed in his notebook, his tongue slightly sticking out from the corner of his mouth. His pencil moved with short, precise strokes. He hadn't looked up once. Not a single time.
Uriel narrowed his eyes.
"Shade."
Nothing.
"Shade!"
Shade looked up suddenly, as if just coming out of a trance. "What? Are you done?"
Uriel sighed, long and deeply, letting his head fall against the back of the sofa. "You weren't listening to me at all."
"Of course I was," said Shade with complete lack of conviction. "You said... important things. About... feelings and... the war and... stuff like that."
"Shade."
"Look!" Shade turned the notebook toward Uriel with an ear-to-ear smile. "I finally got it! I managed to draw a perfect bee!"
On the page, there was an incredibly detailed drawing of a bee. Every wing, every segment of the body, every tiny hair was represented with almost obsessive precision. The bee looked like it was about to come to life and fly off the page.
Uriel blinked several times.
"You've been drawing a bee during my entire emotional catharsis?"
"Catharsis?" Shade frowned. "I thought you were just rambling. The bee took me like twenty minutes. The wing patterns are very complicated."
Uriel was silent for a moment. Then, slowly, he began to laugh. It wasn't a happy laugh or a sarcastic one. It was a tired, resigned laugh—the laugh of someone who has accepted the absurdity of their existence.
"You're terrible," he said finally.
"I know," Shade replied proudly. "But look at the bee. Isn't it beautiful?"
Uriel looked at the drawing. And, despite everything, he smiled.
"Yes," he admitted. "It's a perfect bee."
Shade closed the notebook with satisfaction. "Then the therapy was a success. Session closed."
"In what universe was that a success?"
"In this one. You complained, I drew a bee, and in the end, you smiled. Sounds like a win for me."
Uriel shook his head, but the smile didn't leave his face.
Maybe, he thought, maybe he didn't need deep answers or solutions to his existential doubts. Maybe he just needed someone to draw a bee while he vented.
Or maybe he needed better friends.