Infinite Mana In The Apocalypse novel Chapter 3881

Chapter 3881: The Living That Are Bound! V

Noah sat alone on the sands.

His back straight. Shoulders still. Eyes fixed on the slow rhythm of the mist-veiled tide.

Amelia raised an eyebrow. Then softly laughed. "Sir Osmont?" She looked at her son from the corner of her eye, shaking her head with exasperation. "Just call him Noah. Or Osmont. He’ll prefer either."

The rubble stirred.

Except for the Blood.

But...

So why would Living Origin Authority or Living Origins be a shock?

Her crimson-gold form shimmered with tight restraint as she walked toward the pair. She bowed her head lightly.

"Is not failure the greatest sculptor?"

Failure was not the end.

...!

...!

HUUM!

He looked to its center.

At his will, it released dull crimson tendrils that stretched into the ruins, wrapping them like vines returning to a dead forest.

Not just a name.

...!

Still.

Yet Noah remained as he was.

|You have destroyed all Towers of Origin budding from your Wheel of Existence.|

A prompt flashed before all present.

But the sharpness of his loss had dulled. Beneath it, a new shape was forming.

She raised her gaze with conviction. fre\e(w)ebn ov.e l\. co.m

"I will build what they cannot even conceive."

Failure was the clay.

Noah exhaled slowly, the weight deep in his chest quieting to something cold and reflective.

His Towers of Origin- some destroyed, some fractured, stood like ancient trees struck by quiet lightning. The Infinite and Origin Towers of Origin were reduced to gleaming rubble. Others leaned with splinters of half-built lattices, their integrity eaten by betrayal and blood.

And beside that loss... the soft sound of a Foldless One’s stunned eyes.

Moiraine.

He was not unfamiliar with loss.

"Moiraine, right?" Amelia’s voice was kind and direct as she walked over. "Where are you from?"

The sea lapped in distant silence, but the air around him was dense. It carried the weight of loss.

The Tower began to rise.

He did not smile.

He raised his hand.

She stared at Amelia Osmont with parted lips, her eyes wide. Her form stiffened when she heard the words from Amelia’s mouth referring to the Early Creature, Sir Osmont, as her Son!

The Mythic Living True Signatures that upheld each surviving Tower flared for a breath, and then shattered. Their pillars crumbled. Their light winked out. In moments, everything was rubble.

The stones shook.

She knelt beside one of the Schrödinger’s Boxes and patted the top with one hand.

And then raised their hands with utter glory.

And turned inward.

One drop stirred.

She had already seen Sir Osmont, thr Early Creature, utilize Living Dimensional Authority!

Let them devour half a drop.

From their backs unfurled wide wings, glass-veined and luminous.

The Wheel was silent now. Naked.

His eyes opened, gleaming with quiet violence.

HUUM!

Gone.

Prompts flashed incessantly!

Then he closed his eyes.

And from the rubble...

Noah watched it all, expression calm.

The command rippled outward with no anger. No regret. Just intention.

They knelt.

Moiraine hesitated for only a moment before moving forward, her hand lifting to press on the etched runes of one of her boxes. A white-gold light flared, and with it, the soft hiss of release. The top shimmered, and from within, a limp white eel floated upward- its Basic Glyph of Water dim and still.

The glyph on her forehead burned with light, matching the pulse of Existence.

He drifted down, far below the flicker of surface thoughts into the core of his Wheel. Into the heart of his being.

"If you are the mother of the Early Creature," her voice was steady, "then you are owed more respect than I can express. I was once a Living Golden Paradox of the Transcendent Paradoxical Folds... but now, I am nothing but the retainer of Sir Osmont."

A prompt shimmered in front of him.

"Break."

"I will not rebuild what they took," he whispered into the darkness of his existence.

He looked at the towers that had survived. Those that still stood proud within his Wheel.

Half a drop of his Blood...taken from him!

"Mother," she said respectfully also, her voice gentle. "May I?"

But Moiraine wasn’t casual. She lowered her head, white-gold flames circling her shoulders as she bowed with respect.

But it was not like the others.

This one felt inevitable. Rooted in his soul. Pulled from the very core of who he was.

|The Early Sacred Living Eidolons have been formed from the shells of Mythic Living True Signatures.|

"Come," she said gently. "Help me with these."

The drop of blood.

It floated, drawn upward as though by memory alone. Slowly, deliberately, it began to reform. And at its center, glowing with soft authority...

There, 80.5 drops of the Blood of an Early Creature rotated in solemn orbit. Each drop pulsed with quiet potential, waiting.

Taken instead into Diviticus.

The others had already begun to move, Ruination drifting like a crimson whisper through the haze, Moiraine a celestial blade glowing faintly.

His mind buzzed with possibilities as...

Movement began all around at this moment.

A lineage!