Infinite Mana In The Apocalypse novel Chapter 3845

Chapter 3845: Towers of Origin! II

The air grew still for a heartbeat.

Then the Mythic Living True Signatures raised their heads.

Their eyes closed.

Their mouths opened.

And out came hymn.

A hymn!

It was no language known.

It was paradox- sung.

The Hymn echoed across the Dyson Singularity!

"There is no center, there is no edge,

We are the ripple, the stone, and the pledge.

To be is not to end the not,

But to hold both flame and the thought it forgot."

"All truths are lies in veiled disguise,

And lies, the roots where meaning lies.

Two paths diverge, we walk them both,

For paradox is our only oath."

"The fold folds in what should unfold,

Time eats its child, yet grows not old.

We are the loop that bites its tail,

The song that breaks what silence veils."

"You seek the start, yet start is change,

The road ahead loops back, estranged.

We move not forward, nor do we fall-

To move is simply to recall."

"We are not one, nor are we two,

We are the question that answers you.

The voice before the speaker came,

The ash, the breath, the unborn flame."

HUUM!

Each line was intoned in chorus and in staggered spirals all at once, as if space itself was breathing the hymn through them!

One Signature was humming, another whispering, another thundering, until the full hymn circled and folded back into itself endlessly!

Each voice different. Each voice old. Yet somehow, they sang together.

From the halos behind them, beams of black gold light descended, converging in spiraling patterns that formed the first layers of a towering spire- incandescent and immovable.

The Tower of Origin did not rise. It unfolded. Like it had always been waiting for a long, long time.

It reached upward. It shone outward.

And all around it, Living Paradox wove itself into the marrow of the thing, making it not just a structure, but a commandment of existence.

Noah watched it unfold.

He could feel his complexity nearing something unfathomable.

Something far beyond the cusp of mere, early Originus Venerant.

And this...

This was only one tower.

One concept.

He had over 150 True Sources waiting.

And each one would demand a tower of its own!

Tremendous waves of energy surged.

They poured into him like rivers breaking through a dam, like time collapsing into itself, drawn in to finalize the forging of a single yet monstrous Tower of Origin.

Beween him and Moiraine...

Their lips were still joined.

But amid the endless hymns, the roaring storm of paradox, and the growing brilliance of the cosmos around them, Moiraine began to stir.

Her intoxication did not end all at once, it peeled back layer by layer, until at last, her lips gently parted from his, a soft string of molten gold paradox trailing between them before it broke, dissipating in the air like stardust.

Breathless, her gaze dazed but laced with sharp clarity, she asked while looking at the terrifying tower unlike any she had seen before, "Is it done? Is your Tower finally complete?"

...!

Noah’s response was a calm blink.

And then, with a smile laced in quiet arrogance and tyranny, his voice came low and smooth, holding the weight of command and the edge of something quintessential!

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