Uriel observed the floating city of Weave, which was much larger than he had imagined. There were quite a few artificial islands connected to each other to form a whole. There was a network of canals between the different districts that served as roads, and a forest of star-shaped towers that rose toward the sky. Most were wind towers that spun constantly, keeping the island fixed in place, resisting the current of the Great River.
In general, the architecture was varied, spacious, and beautiful. Some buildings were made of stone, others seemed carved from ivory, and some were pavilions of bright silk, bleached by the sun. There were neighborhoods, houses, trees, and even entire cities occupied by an elegant palace or a solemn temple.
At a certain distance from the residential areas, separated from them by a wide expanse of water, stretched vast fields and floating gardens.
Bathed in the light of the seven suns, the city was strange and fantastic.
However, Uriel was disconcerted by what he saw. Several areas were destroyed by attacks from abominations.
They were masses of humanoid creatures with red flesh like tumors.
Uriel ordered his creature of darkness, which extended its will and captured all the corrupted. Instantly, they stood still like statues frozen in time.
The Supreme Tyrant ordered his new minions to jump into the water, only to be devoured by his own minions.
Cronos, who had witnessed this, whistled, impressed.
"I never get tired of seeing that," he said with a small smile.
"I suppose those corrupted are from the Profanation?"
"Yes," Cronos confirmed.
"They must have come from upriver, perhaps carried by the storm."
The ship slowly approached until it anchored at the dock, where the inhabitants of Weave who had seen the vessel drew near, curious and fearful, since they had watched the horde of corrupted simply throw themselves into the Great River.
Among the crowd stood a woman of short stature, exquisitely beautiful. Her hair was jet black, her skin dark, with piercing blue eyes. This was Ananke. Her face, full of life, showed a smile upon seeing the outsiders.
"Well, Master, make a good impression."
"Why don't you do it?"
"I'm from Fallen Grace. You're a foreigner, and you have the Nightmare Spell, so they'll listen to you—not me. Besides, we can't stray too far from the Time Killer, or we'll die of old age," Cronos clarified.
Uriel narrowed his eyes at Cronos, but in the end, he sighed and accepted.
Leaving the ship, he stepped onto the dock and began ascending the wooden steps.
Upon reaching the top, he observed the inhabitants of Weave and finally spoke.
"Greetings, people of Weave. I am Uriel, an outsider from the future and a bearer of the Nightmare Spell," he declared, causing several eyes to open in surprise.
Among the astonished and surprised crowd, a figure stepped forward and bowed.
"Hail, Weaver, firstborn of the unknown," she said with a tone of respect.
"Ananke of Weave greets you, Lord Uriel."
Uriel blinked, looking at the small figure who appeared several years older than him but still maintained a youthful appearance.
'She's beautiful! Uriel, let me out!' Shade shouted in Uriel's mind, making him grimace.
'Bastard, don't shout out of nowhere—do you want to leave me half deaf? And no, I won't let you out to do your things, so stay in there.'
Uriel finally looked at Ananke.
"Oh, don't call me Lord. Just call me Uriel. I'm not that old... I think?" he murmured, partly to himself, then looked at the still-surprised onlookers. He noticed there were few Awakened, and many were civilians.
"Sorry if I scared you with how I handled the corrupted, but one of my creatures controlled them, and it's quite busy with them right now," he clarified, as an enormous column of water rose hundreds of meters, revealing a massive abomination nearly two hundred meters long that rose into the sky before sinking back down.
"Yes, that must have been that thing," Uriel murmured casually.
---
A few minutes later, Uriel was seated inside a kind of solemn temple. Before him was the figure he guessed was the most respectable person in Weave—an outsider whose rank was Ascended.
"Lord Uriel, your presence is a good omen for the river's people," the old man commented.
"I don't know if it's a good or bad sign, sir. After all, I come from outside the tower and have only been here a few months."
"Still, it's a good sign, since you managed to get past the swarm of nightmare butterflies."
"I was very lucky," Uriel said, tasting the delicious tea.
'More than simple luck is needed to reach here, Lord Uriel. Perhaps it is what Weaver spoke of—that salvation would come to Ariel's Tomb. Perhaps it is destiny.'
Uriel frowned.
He never liked destiny, as it always threw absurd and terrifying things at him and rarely gave him anything good. An example of this was his current situation, or his second nightmare, or his first.
In any case, he had survived and would survive again. He was like a black cockroach—resistant to everything.
Emerging from his thoughts, Uriel looked at the old man.
"I need your help," he finally said.
"What do you need, sir?"
"I need a forger. The ship I'm traveling on has suffered damage and needs to be repaired so we can continue our journey toward that which was profaned."
The old man's eyes widened.
"Do you plan to seek out something as dangerous as that thing?"
"Yes, I plan to kill it and eliminate the corruption of the Great River and find a way to escape. Of course, if you want to leave, you can come with me to a place better than a tomb made from the corpse of a corrupted god."
The old man looked at Uriel, searching for any trace of a lie, but seeing his determined expression and eyes full of unshakable certainty and confidence, he knew those words were not mere bluster.
"Gods, I'm getting too old for you young people these days. We will help you in whatever we can."
"Thank you. By the way, I brought you something," Uriel said, as an extension of darkness filled the room, revealing different types of well-preserved food species, as well as alcohol.
"It's a small gift from me."
The old man of Weave looked with surprise at all the things Uriel had manifested from his dark storage.
"My lord, you didn't have to..."
"Oh, nonsense. That's just a small thing, so accept it, and I won't take no for an answer."
The old man sighed, shaking his head, and then smiled—a wide smile.
The conversation became more pleasant from that moment on. Uriel learned that Weaver's followers had arrived at the Great Tomb thousands of years ago, following the Sibyls and their people. But because they followed Weaver—the most hated of gods and demons—they had to go to the far reaches of the future, upriver, to form their societies.
Upon hearing this, Uriel told them a bit about the War World—the last world still standing—which was facing corruption and needed all the help possible to resist the influence of the dream realm.
The conversation stretched on for several hours.
When the talk ended, Uriel and the old man went outside. After the old man of Weave spoke with some people, they began moving everything Uriel had brought to another location.