Infinite Mana in the Apocalypse - Chapter 4404
Chapter 4404: Ormordnes II
Noah did not like the feeling of not having control.
It was a simple truth for him…not about domination or absolute authority over others, but about maintaining sufficient influence over the immediate space around him, the moments that unfolded breath by breath.
He moved through existence with careful deliberation, ensuring that in the domains he touched, he held enough sway to react when circumstances shifted beneath his feet like sand in a tide.
Control meant that when conflict came, and it always came, he could at least oppose it. Could bear the weight!
Could dance along the edge of catastrophe without plummeting into its depths.
This was what he preferred: a measure of control, however small, regardless of what struggles pressed against him.
At this moment, he felt its absolute absence.
The air itself had changed.
It was thicker, heavier, as if existence had become viscous fluid that resisted all movement.
Breathing required conscious effort. Thought moved through something like honey. Simply being demanded exertion that moments ago had been effortless.
Around them, crimson-gold brilliance pervaded everything.
The light claimed, establishing dominion over space and time and the very possibility of action.
|CRITICAL CATASTROPHE DETECTED|
|You have fallen into THE FESTIVAL OF PARADOX|
The words materialized before Noah’s vision with clinical precision, but he barely needed their confirmation.
He could feel the truth in his existence, in the way his Primus Mana guttered like flame in windstorm.
|Due to vast disparity in the immensity of Civilizations between yours and THE Living Paradox’s, all current weavings of expressed Civilizations have been suppressed completely.|
The Civilizational Chains of Paradox moved through the air like serpents of concentrated authority, and they had already wrapped around everyone present with discriminating precision.
Leonore Rureaux hung suspended, her considerable power rendered meaningless against constraints designed to suppress entire frameworks of existence rather than mere individuals.
The two remaining Living Schrodingers, Concept and Quantum, were similarly bound, their multiple natures collapsed into singular helplessness.
Khor floated immobilized, The First Hunger herself unable to devour despite that being the fundamental principle of her being.
And Noah, with Riya beside him, caught in the same terrible web.
The chains wrapped around limbs and stretched them in different directions, anchoring them in space so completely that even the smallest movement became impossible.
It was not merely physical restraint, this was existential binding!
The Quintillions of power they held within their beings meant nothing when the very Ways through which they expressed that power were shut down entirely.
Noah’s Primus Singularity had dimmed to barely perceptible glow, a dying sun overwhelmed by foreign radiance. Only crimson-gold remained, absolute and inescapable.
The wind carried no scent of death, but something worse: the absence of natural order, as if the rules governing how things should be had been temporarily suspended pending review by an authority that cared nothing for their restoration.
Noah looked at the chains binding him with the analytical focus that had become his nature.
Even now, even trapped and helpless, his mind worked with clarity.
The Lens of Civilization and his recent ascension into The Early Infinity Dominion Realm provided benefits that ran deeper than mere power…they granted understanding, a cool peace that crept over his thoughts even in the face of impossible odds.
The chains were actively suppressing his Primus Mana, preventing its expression through mechanisms that operated at civilizational scale.
But as he observed them with enhanced perception, testing their constraints with the gentlest pressure of his will, he felt something interesting- they dimmed ever so slightly when his Way pressed against them.
Barely noticeable, like starlight competing with the sun, but real nonetheless.
Given time…seconds, minutes, perhaps longer, he could batter them endlessly. Even suppressed, the infinite nature of his reserves meant sustained assault remained possible.
He could potentially break free, though doing so would reveal abnormalities about his Way that he preferred to keep concealed.
So I will observe. Collect information. Wait for the proper moment.
Panicking would accomplish nothing. Rage would change nothing. Screaming about wanting to live, about having people depending on him…such displays were luxuries for those who believed their emotions might influence outcomes.
Noah had learned better.
His gaze swept the tower of compressed authority they now occupied, this space THE Living Paradox had claimed as absolutely as a king claims his throne.
To his right, Riya struggled furiously against her bonds. Her figure pulsed like a lamp fighting to stay lit, blue-gold Mana attempting to erupt from her body only to be snuffed the instant it manifested.
She had been looking at Noah the whole time, desperate to help despite her own helplessness.
When their eyes met, something in his steady gaze seemed to calm her. She stopped struggling, breathing heavily, finding composure in his apparent lack of panic.
Noah turned his attention to the Corpse of Schrodinger standing before them. To THE Living Paradox inhabiting that reconstructed flesh.
The entity closed its crimson-gold eyes and breathed in deeply, not from need, but as if savoring some quality of the air that others could not perceive.
When it exhaled, the sound held satisfaction mixed with faint distaste.
“The air itself smells nostalgic,” THE Living Paradox said, voice making the surrounding space ripple like water struck by stone, “and yet dirtier than I remember. The air in THE Loom is much nicer…purified, refined, optimal for contemplation. Out here…”
The entity’s expression twisted slightly. “Out here there are so many contaminants. Uncontrolled variables. Beings pursuing their own Ways without coordination or purpose beyond their limited perspectives.”
HUUM!
THE Living Paradox opened its eyes and gazed upon the bound figures with expression mixing fondness and cruelty in equal measure. Its attention settled on Khor, and the smile that spread across the corpse’s reconstructed face carried depths of meaning Noah couldn’t fully parse.
“Is this not simpler, Little Inevitability?” The voice was almost gentle, a teacher addressing a struggling student.
“Nobody throwing tantrums. Nobody raging about imagined injustices. This is how existence should be…moments of peace and clarity. Things happen, yes. Good and bad alike. But they do not have to make us victims. We choose that designation through our refusal to accept what occurs.”
As THE Living Paradox spoke, its figure floated through the crimson-gold light with serene grace, moving until it stood directly before Khor.
Close enough that Noah could see the way Khor’s eyes had changed…the livid rage draining away, replaced by the cold calculation of someone with eons of accumulated wisdom returning.
Those who held years of philosophy were not immune to moments of weakness, to being blinded by emotion. But if they could control themselves, return to paths of discipline…
Khor had a momentary lapse. That was all.
THE Living Paradox examined Khor with clinical interest, gaze traveling up and down her bound form like an artist assessing a canvas.
“How wondrous,” it said, “It truly is you, not fragment or echo, but actual restored existence. Though infinitely weaker. Even though you faced complete collapse of your very Way. Even though I personally unmade you and claimed your Heart of Hunger…”
The crimson-gold eyes blazed brighter. “You stand before me again. Impossible, and yet here you are. How did you accomplish this?”
…!