(Scars do not appear to be cause of death –shock ... - Bad Request

This was easy. "A human, who crawls on all fours at birth, walks on two legs
during youth, and leans on a cane during old age."
"That is correct. For the second riddle: I groan, but words never escape my
lips. I may be empty, but never am I full. What am I?"
"Are you hunger?" I answered.
"Yes. The third riddle is this: What flies, and cannot stand still? What
devours all it touches, yet eats nothing? What can never be lent, yet is
always wasted? What is always spent, yet never earned?"
I knew the answer for this as well, "The answer is time."
"You have bested me. Your appearance led me to believe that your wits
were a match for your scarred exterior. I have failed in my duty, and I yield
the blade to you. I must depart this place."
"Thanks," I muttered as he burned away in an angry flame, leaving only a
greasy black streak upon the floor. Celestial Fire hummed in my hands.
I'd ended one injustice. It was time to end another.
~~~~~
"What need you, mortal?" Trias intoned, eyes closed as if trying to grip onto
every ounce of self he possessed.
"I have your sword."
He looked shocked for a moment. "Celestial Fire? You have recovered my
blade? Will you free me? Then strike a blow against the chain!"
I held the blade awkwardly in my hands for a moment, balanced on the edge
of indecision. Something felt wrong about wielding something so
otherworldly: it would've been like swinging a piece of art, or dulling a ritual
blade against a rock. I hefted the unease aside on one hand and squelched
that giddy, primordial sense of mischief that craved destruction on the
other. I did this because it was right.
The chains sundered easily under the blade, and the sound of a thunderclap
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