Infinite Mana In The Apocalypse novel Chapter 3823

Chapter 3823: Morality II

Noah looked at his mother and gave a small nod, his gaze drifting for a moment as the warm scent of the rice and soup still lingered in the air.

A quiet moment passed before he said, "More recently... the idea of good and evil was brought up to me."

His mother’s eyes sharpened immediately, her ladle stilled halfway through another stir. She turned her regal face toward him with a calm but direct voice. "Who brought such a thing up? Is it another woman? Because I don’t think you would even be entertaining anyone else with thoughts and ideas unless she had... certain qualities that you appreciate greatly."

Noah gave a rare smile, knowing her tone was a mix of teasing and sharp intuition. "It’s just an extremely powerful existence with an ideology I haven’t quite resolved yet. She says that for any possibility of power from here on out, one has to leave behind the idea of good and evil. That good and evil are subjective. That power has to be taken and devoured from others, and that judging others slows growth. One should act freely and do whatever is necessary for advancement and survival."

Amelia Osmont grew quiet. She spooned a bit more soup onto her plate, took a slow bite, and said nothing for several moments. Then her voice came, calm yet piercing. "Do you think you’re good or evil?"

"..."

Noah didn’t respond. Not immediately. He looked down into his plate, seeing not a reflection, but the vastness of what he had become.

His mother chuckled gently, the sound like a familiar lullaby, and said, "Well? If it’s hard to answer, then let me ask you something simpler. How many beings has my son killed?"

...!

The question struck heavy. Noah remained silent again, but this time, his expression shifted. He knew the answer. Of course, he knew the answer. It was engraved in his Existence!

"You know the number" she said softly, watching him. "And if you took that number and told it to anyone- if we were still on that little blue world of ours before the apocalypse- you would be seen as a crazed, bloodthirsty killer. You would be called evil. Worse than those commiting genocides."

"...!"

She continued speaking with calm confidence as she waved her hand, summoning a glowing bunch of ripe bananas. They floated gently over to the table, and she peeled one with a graceful flick before passing one to him.

"But...my son is not evil," she said. "Because you’ve saved countless others, haven’t you? From entire Frequencies of Existence? From horrors that would’ve consumed their entire Wheel of Existence?"

She took a bite of the banana, her eyes never leaving his.

"That woman you’re speaking to is half right. Good and evil are subjective. My son will always be good to me no matter what he does. You could come here and tell me you brazenly destroyed trillions upon quintillions, and I might sigh, shake my head, and make an excuse for it. To others? You will be evil regardless of your reasons. So... the distinctions of good and evil don’t matter. What matters is that what you do... has purpose."

She leaned forward slightly, setting her banana down.

"If you kill, let it be with purpose. If you save, let it be for a purpose. If you take another woman- and truly, this hobby of yours, I still don’t know where you get it from- but if you increase your already ridiculous harem, let it be for a purpose."

"...!"

Noah couldn’t help but smile as he listened. His mother always had a way of centering him.

She reached across the table, placed a hand over his, and smiled as she finished.

"Not good or evil. Just be who you’ve always been, my son. Be... quintessential."

HUUM!

His existence buzzed as his Purity surged by a tremendous amount.

The words rippled through his Existence like a declaration burned into the fabric of who he was.

And he, sitting under the sapphire sky of a quiet realm, surrounded by the softest truths, nodded once.

Yes.

Quintessential!

---

In the Paradoxical Prison.

Noah stood still as the runic paradoxical brand on his palm shimmered with deep obsidian light. The mark of the Warden, carved with paradoxical authority, pulsed like a second heart.

Moiraine floated behind observantly.

Before him, the sealed coffin of black crystal was translucent. Runes across its edges shivered as the marking drew near, and with a flash of ancient permissions, granted by an unknown decree, a doorway opened within.

Inside, curled in a realm of compressed sacrifice and silence, the old woman stirred.

Her eyes, once closed for what may have been billions of years, blazed open. Raw, haggard breath tore from her lungs as she sensed change.

She could see...and feel!

"A weak...Primarch?" she hissed through dry, cracking lips. Her voice echoed like broken blades scraping against steel. "What trick is this? What is going on?!"

The darkness around her surged.

From her twisted frame spilled forth Lattices. Tens of thousands of them.

Existential Dimensional Lattices born of the True Source of Sacrifice. They howled into existence, each one a cry of loss, each one demanding an offering.

Noah did not flinch.

He stepped through the threshold, his voice echoing against the sheer darkness that had become her reality. Two words followed him like falling judgment.

"Fealty, or death?"

...!

From one hand bloomed the Lattices of Fealty, solemn and sovereign. From the other- Loot, brilliant and terrifying, spinning with spirals of acquisition and dominion.

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