Infinite Mana In The Apocalypse novel Chapter 4152

Chapter 4152 Who Is He?! VII

The shock that rippled through Duke Gwendolyn's existence was the fundamental dismantling of everything she thought she understood about power, progression, and possibility!

She rose from her throne, her form trembling with emotions that Duke-level existence rarely permitted to surface.

"How has she regained all her power and even exceeded it to become a Duke!?"

The words tore from her with the raw force of disbelief colliding with undeniable reality.

Her eyes remained fixed on Sigrid, drinking in every detail as if careful observation might reveal this to be some elaborate illusion, some trick of perception that would dissolve under sufficient scrutiny.

But Sigrid stood there in terrible, beautiful reality.

She was adorned in a dress that seemed to have been woven from possibility itself…white fabric that was inscribed with runes of green-gold leaves that spoke of ordered harvest.

The symbolism wasn't subtle…Order that had learned to reap rewards, structure that had discovered how to cultivate power rather than merely organize it.

As Duke Gwendolyn stared at this impossible transformation, movement behind her drew attention to a presence that had been observing silently until now.

A woman floated upward, her ascent not dramatic but inevitable, rising above even Duke Gwendolyn's position.

The woman appeared to be in her fifties or sixties…an age that should have suggested decline in normal existence but here spoke of accumulated wisdom that had transcended the usual relationship between time and power.

Her beauty was unique for this apparent age…beauty that had evolved, matured, become something that youth itself looked toward with envy.

She was adorned in a golden robe which suggested that Origin itself had chosen to take the form of clothing. Her hair fell in waves of white-gold. But it was her eyes that commanded true attention…pure white orbs that contained no iris, no pupil, just endless expanses of possibility that had chosen to manifest as sight.

"That is our weapon that we cultivated?" she asked, "That is the Young Miss's current form?"

Duke Gwendolyn was pulled from her stupor by that voice, turning toward the speaker with a respect that transformed her entire bearing.

The shock fell away, replaced by something approaching reverence mixed with professional respect.

"Yes, Origin Ama, Gias."

Origin Ama.

Ama.

The word carried weight.

In its most basic form, it meant mother, but not in the biological sense alone.

Ama was the one who nurtured when nurturing seemed impossible, who cared when care required sacrifice, who took responsibility for growth in ways that only someone who had borne life into existence could truly understand.

It was motherhood elevated to conceptual authority…the power to design the conditions for life to flourish!

Duke Gwendolyn looked toward this being with respect that went beyond mere hierarchy.

Among the Living Origins, they had their own illustrious Dukes, their own legends that made regular Duke-level existence look like apprenticeship.

The one who had come here, who had chosen to personally attend this gathering, was Origin Ama…Gias herself.

Gias nodded while keeping her gaze fixed on Sigrid, her pure white eyes reading information that existed in layers beyond normal perception.

"Then let us go get what is ours."

The statement was simple, direct, and carried the particular certainty of someone who had never encountered a possession they couldn't reclaim.

"...Yes, Origin Ama."

Duke Gwendolyn's response came with hesitation that she couldn't quite suppress, but she followed as Origin Ama Gias began moving toward Noah's section of the amphitheater.

Other Dukes fell in behind them, Duke Valen, Duke Albalos, Duke Septimus, Duke Marienne…and others.

More than half of the terrifying forces that the Living Origins had brought to this gathering moved as one toward that tiny sliver of the Concordat Amphitheater that had been added almost as an afterthought.

As they traversed the impossible architecture of the amphitheater, Duke Gwendolyn's mind raced through everything that had occurred with Noah so far.

The market in Aeternitas Concordia. The display of impossible resources. The power displayed here. Each memory added another layer of complexity to the equation she was trying to solve.

"Origin Ama," she said carefully, her voice pitched to carry only to Gias, "we should proceed with caution. We do not know the true origins of Osmont. His capabilities suggest connections that-"

"Interesting," Origin Ama Gias interrupted, her tone carrying layers of meaning that would take epochs to fully unpack.

"We, Living Origins, do not know the Origin of someone, and we even fear them while they take what is ours and showcase it before our eyes. Is that not interesting?"

HUUM!

The question wasn't really a question.

It was an observation of failure, a notation of inadequacy that had been allowed to persist.

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