Infinite Mana In The Apocalypse

Chapter 3903: Fishing in Troubled Waters! II

Noah’s eyes flickered open slowly, a serene stillnes blanketing his expression as the threads of countless events coiled and settled behind his gaze.

He had watched Bob.

He had seen the desperate threading of his path, the weaving of a fate too fragile to name!

The paradoxical prison, the inevitability tethered to him like a beast of hunger, the rising flames of Living Origins now converging. A thousand threads of consequence, trembling under a single breath!

He inhaled.

Around him, the warm, dense scent of cooked Early Living Marine Lifeforms swirled in the air- a fragrance laced with purity and incomprehensible complexity. Another piece of seared flesh from the sacred wok rose into his hand as his gaze shifted calmly.

Moiraine stood like obsidian-gilded marble, composed and glorious. The golden waves of paradox etched into her form gleamed faintly in the glowing atmosphere of the Shore, her body still as if awaiting nothing but his will.

Beside her, Liora’s expression was pinched in worry, her fingers wringing at the hem of her robe. Her eyes searched his face, desperate for anything to hold onto.

”He’s hiding his inevitability well,” Noah said quietly, the weight in his voice like the turn of existence itself. ”There are Living Origins near him as he’s seeking their protection. If they take him in, he might survive.”

Might!

His words didn’t offer comfort, not entirely. There was no certainty in the word might.

The waters of the budding shore reflected golden horizons. And beneath those ripples, Noah sensed the shocks of the battle.

All Fold Dwellers would feel them today!

Tremors.

The paradoxical prison, once sealed in iron black stillness, had erupted. Two colossal powers had come to blows. Living Origin and Living Paradox! The battle cracked the veil of silence that had shrouded that space for an unknown number of years!

He felt it.

So did Moiraine.

Her voice was low, lethal. ”The Honored Living Golden Paradox is here. I can feel him. Even now, I would maybe last some time against him. His might is... suffocating.”

...!

Noah nodded.

Above the Nullvein Gravewake Folds, the golden lights turned. The suns of the Foldless Ones focused upon the rippling epicenter of chaos. And from beyond, more Living Origins stirred- drawn by Altheon, converging like blades to a throat.

Noah exhaled slowly.

A war was about to bloom in the folds. Not a war he could fight in. Not with strength.

But he was not bound by strength.

He was an Early Creature.

And Early Creatures did not fight wars in the same way others did.

He turned his gaze to Moiraine.

”How long would it take you to bring down a standard Living Origin, if they were alone?”

She tilted her head slightly. The light haloed her cheekbones, and her voice slipped out smooth and precise. ”One breath.”

”Prime Living Paradox?”

”One second.”

”Honored?”

She hesitated. Then, firmly: ”I can survive. I cannot win.”

Noah’s lips curved into something that could almost be a smile.

”Good,” he murmured. ”A chance may come. If it does, and only if you are confident it can be done unseen, in an instant, without risking being found out, you may strike.”

...!

She nodded once, her expression solemn. ”Understood, Sir Osmont.”

---

In the Nullvein Gravewake Folds, the air pulsed with paradox.

Wings unfurled.

Nine of them, layered in spirals of golden origination and irreversible contradiction, each feather etched in Living Authority. And above them, nine halos blazed like suns trying to burn through the very fabric of the Fold.

The Honored Living Golden Paradox hovered in place, a sovereign born from a concept beyond time. His eyes were black voids outlined in radiant luminance, his voice quiet, yet thundering.

”They seek it too,” he said.

His words sent ripples across the reality of the Folds, dozens of Living Paradoxes bowing their heads before him.

”This Existential Anomaly...the Living Origins know he survived their first attack. But the Living Origins would not step foot into these folds unless they were sure and confident it was here too. Scour every Fold. Tear apart every Wheel. Search the memories of every Fold Dweller if you must.”

He turned.

His gaze bled golden.

”The rest of you, come. We will deal with these arrogant interlopers ourselves.”

And they moved.

The Foldless Ones shot out like unraveling spears, chasing echoes of Origin across the Nullvein Gravewake Folds!

Out of those sent to search out.

A Living Paradox of black-gold radiance, six half-formed wings stretching behind him in silent motion. His body shimmered like molten obsidian wrapped in paradoxes that had never come to pass.

His destination? The nearby locus of time where he sensed many Wheels swirling.

It turned out to be...

The Chronosect of Threadbound Folds.

A vast geometry unfolded beneath him. Clockwork architecture formed from interwoven Wheels of Existence, surrounding a heart where statues of Sentinels of glorious musings of time moved like glyphs in perpetual dance. It was silent here, but for the ticking of an existential metronome.

He floated towards these complex meshwork of Wheels and the counltess lives they held.

But as he did so...

...!

He felt it.

The pulse of something ancient.

Something final.

His paradoxical weavings, always in a state of being and unbeing, froze.

Froze!

They trembled.

He had never felt such a thing as he could not identify it until it was too late!

True death.

He turned his head.

The air had gone still.

Then..

A whisper of white-gold light bloomed.

A paradox collapsed in on itself!

Above him, she appeared.

Moiraine.

Her robes unfurled like banners of living paradox, her presence calm, her eyes set with that surgical certainty that knew precisely where to cut.

Her voice barely moved the air. ”Embrace your contradiction.”

Her hands drew out vast seas of impossible elegance.

She did not call out an ability or anything- simply pure paradox as she forced someone lesser...to collapse.

A line appeared across his neck. Clean. Silent. Terrifying.

His existence twisted. Not in resistance, but in acceptance. His paradoxical essence began to fold in on itself, no longer able to sustain what he was.

A single blink later, he was beheaded.

He was always beheaded, he had been beheaded, and he would have been beheaded...hundreds of times.

All his anchors and lives, lost in an instant!

No echo followed. No sound. Only the shuddering sigh of reality correcting itself!

Moiraine reached out.

The remnants of the Paradox, the weavings, the fading light- all gathered in her palm.

And in another blink, she was gone!