Behemoth – the embodiment of Fury – emerged from the abyss of chaos with a heart that bursts like an endless flame. He was born to be the fury of hell, a blade that cuts through all shackles, a flame that burns away all bonds. But deep down, Behemoth fears his own power. His anger, when unleashed, can destroy both his enemies and those he wishes to protect. That fear weighs heavily on him, making every battle not just a massacre, but also a dangerous game with his own conscience.
On the battlefield, he is a red hurricane, a violent force that cannot be stopped. But when his giant axe whistles through the air, there is still a glimmer of panic in his eyes: "If I lose control… will any of you fall by my hand?"
Uriel – the angel of Patience – is the polar opposite. She radiated gentleness, a slow flow of time, as if no storm could shake her. She had saved countless souls with her patience, soothed despair with her soft words, her open arms. Yet Uriel also harbored another fear. Many of her followers mocked her, seeing patience as weakness, as avoiding confrontation. Every time she heard those words, she wondered: "Am I really saving them, or am I just prolonging their suffering?"
When Behemoth first met Uriel, the contrast cut deep. In his eyes, she was a calm harbor in a sea of anger. But it was that calm that angered him: how could one be so calm, when the world was so full of injustice and cruelty? And then, he realized, behind those gentle eyes, Uriel was also trembling, afraid of the power of patience – something that people misunderstood, mocked, despised.
For a moment, as Behemoth's axe was about to fall, Uriel did not dodge. She stood there, her eyes carrying neither defiance nor contempt. Only acceptance, a whisper that echoed like the wind:
— I know… you fear yourself.
The axe blade stopped, only a few fathoms from her. Behemoth's frantic breathing was rapid, his hands trembling. He had never heard anyone speak to him like that. In his eyes, Uriel was not an enemy, but a mirror reflecting his deepest fears.
Uriel was the same. When she looked into Behemoth's red eyes, she saw a tormented soul, not unlike her own chained to the sarcasm of slowness and procrastination. She whispered, almost to herself:
— Maybe… I'm afraid of myself.
Between the light and the dark, they stood so close that the world seemed silent. One feared uncontrolled power, the other feared misunderstood power. They hadn't named the feeling yet, but they both knew: only in the other's eyes could they see themselves—broken, conflicted, and yearning to be understood.