Infinite Mana In The Apocalypse novel Chapter 3820

Chapter 3820: Moiraine I

Oryzarakh’s wings flexed once as the obsidian-gold halo behind his head dimmed slightly.

With an absent flick of his towering hand, the obsidian stone- now altered, humming with tightly coiled paradoxical authority- was returned to Ozymandias.

"Crush it," the Foldless One said, his voice slicing through the suffocating silence. "You will be sent forth with all the authority required to be a Warden. And I will be watching."

The stone hovered in Noah’s palm, colder than the void between collapsed wheels. He gazed down at it, the obsidian pulsing with grandiose existence.

He said nothing.

But deep within, he reflected.

The weavings of the Living True Source of the Protagonist... were terrifying.

No, they did not control this Foldless One. That much was evident. Oryzarakh was a being of judgment and supremacy, beyond the reach of puppet strings. And yet...Noah’s gaze narrowed.

Somehow, the weavings had still drawn him in. Entangled him. Aligned the probabilities and causal threads in such a way that a Foldless One appeared before him, not in hostility, but to hand him a path paved in broken chains.

It was subtle. It was glorious!

This was no mere Source. It was a guiding force on a board so vast, its pieces spanned across the Folds.

The weavings pulled kings and pawns alike into positions that revolved around him, forced attention to bloom wherever he stepped. Forced conflict and more.

But it wasn’t always favorable.

Because if he couldn’t handle that attention...

If he couldn’t become the center of those entanglements...

He would die!

Noah turned the stone slightly, its surface catching the dim gray hues of the dead Wheel around him.

There would simply be another failure.

But what was failure?

A lesson, he thought.

A crack in your understanding that lets new wisdom pour in.

In the sea of his mind, Noah remembered broken attempts from his actual life and the lives he lived with Imitated Everything.

Strategies that ended in collapse.

Manipulations that backfired. Roads that led only to ruin and death from Masters of Existence!

All these failures were engraved into his existence not as shame, but as scripture. Each failure had tempered him, taught him. Made him more precise.

Made him more terrifying. More quintessential!

And that was why now...

He feared nothing.

WUU!

His eyes rose to meet Oryzarakh’s gaze.

No words passed between them.

Only silence.

Then, Noah-Ozymandias, closed his hand around the obsidian stone.

CRACK.

The sound was soft.

A tremor that passed through the foldspace itself, as if a sleeping idea had been forced awake.

Black light burst outward in chains- hundreds, then thousands...as a massive illusory coffin surged into being.

It rose like a titan, a coffin wrought of onyx Authority and folded Paradox. Its size dwarfed even Omniverses!

Chains clanked and coiled along its sides, inscribed with unknowable runes that shimmered like screams.

But one rune shone above all.

A singular, burning sigil of Paradox.

It flew from the coffin, embedding itself onto his left hand. His skin sizzled for a moment, but he did not flinch.

Not even a blink.

The coffin cracked open briefly, as if to inhale as it swallowed him.

And then it closed!

Disappearing entirely.

Taking him with it.

Leaving only the Foldless One behind.

HUUM!

Oryzarakh stood still for a moment, his wings tucked inward. He gazed at the spot where Ozymandias had just vanished, the aftershock of the Paradox still humming through the folds.

His voice, now low and contemplative, filled the silence.

"Why... was I not able to sense his birth?"

His golden eyes narrowed, the massive halos behind his head spinning in slow, thoughtful orbits.

He ruled this region.

These Nullvein Gravewake Folds were under his gaze.

And yet, he had not seen this one rise.

Noah Osmont.

A name born in obscurity, now branded into the very weavings of Paradox of this region as already, there was a Wonder broken because of him.

He tilted his head slightly.

Should he tell the others?

Should he hide him?

The questions lingered like weightless stars before being consumed by stillness.

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