Infinite Mana In The Apocalypse novel Chapter 4550

Chapter 4550: Pre-THE! I

In regions scattered across Observable Existence, tears began to manifest with increasing frequency.

Not tears of sorrow but literal ruptures in the fabric of reality itself. Cracks spreading through the fundamental structures that separated domains which should never touch. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

The Veil was breaking down with systematic inevitability!

A veil that had separated The Lands of The Living from The Lands of The Dead since time immemorial. A barrier that kept death from freely walking among life and prevented the living from casually traversing into death’s domain.

That ancient separation was failing.

In the Wandering Territories, in a region of multicolored chaotic seas where fold remnants drifted like ash from dying stars, something unprecedented emerged.

A massive shattered fragment of an Early Veiled Shore floated through the collapse like a vessel navigating impossible waters. The fragment was enormous, easily spanning hundreds of kilometers across its broken surface. Golden sands with fading colors still clung to portions of its structure despite the devastation that had clearly occurred.

On this floating remnant, terrifying auras could be felt emanating with palpable intensity. The immense waves of authority belonged unmistakably to The Dead, carrying the distinct quality of existences that had crossed beyond life’s boundary.

Yet at the very forefront of this vessel stood a singular figure who drew attention immediately.

A man with shining white hair that fell past his shoulders in elegant disarray. His eyes were crimson red with an intensity of both ancient weariness and barely contained violence. He wore a long coat that seemed to be woven from shadows themselves, moving with wind that should not exist in this collapsed region.

His features were sharp and aristocratic with pale skin. When he moved, it was with predatory grace that suggested extreme danger beneath cultivated civility.

His expression was unfathomably forlorn and sad, as if he carried burdens that could crush lesser beings into nothingness. Yet beneath that melancholy lay something else: irritation bordering on genuine anger at his current circumstances!

This was Damian, The Disciple of THE Creature.

Around his body burned a crimson-gold light of glorious Sovereignty that immediately marked his classification. The authority was not merely False THE, which would have been impressive enough.

It was actually Pre-THE level power.

Oh!

Pre-THE authority wielded by a Dead Existence created a combination that was genuinely terrifying to contemplate.

Behind him stood a small but potent legion of Dead Existences composed entirely of Guiders of Order. Many of them radiated Complexity and Purity measurements in the Septillions or Nonillions, marking them as extraordinarily powerful entities even among The Dead.

Damian himself held power in excess of the Decillions.

He seemed to be clutching his head with one hand and shaking it periodically, as if something was causing him significant discomfort or annoyance that would not cease.

Behind him, the figure of Forgemaster Vulcan appeared with a concerned expression. The massive craftsman moved forward carefully before speaking.

"O Disciple, are you experiencing difficulties?" he asked with genuine worry in his tone.

Damian’s crimson eyes snapped to look at Vulcan with an expression that mixed exasperation with barely controlled fury.

"Big guy, do I look okay to you?" he said with a voice carrying biting sarcasm. "I am being forced to work against my will by your master. I wake up after sleeping peacefully for all of these eons only to realize that I am now a Dead Existence rather than living. And I can barely establish a proper connection with my actual Master anymore."

He gestured broadly with frustration.

"How exactly do you think I feel about this entire situation? And to top it all off as some sort of existential joke, I am being put to work immediately upon waking as if no adjustment period is needed. This whole situation just fucking sucks beyond measure."

Toward such a vehement reply, Vulcan found he had no adequate response. He looked up at the other Guiders of Order arrayed behind them, but they all deliberately looked away to avoid being drawn into this conversation.

At this moment, Damian’s expression shifted to something more focused as he spoke with command.

"Fuck it. No matter, tell me everything about this Osmont individual," he said with tone indicating this was not a request.

Forgemaster Vulcan blinked with slight confusion before responding.

"In the future, when I tell you to do something specific, do that certain thing without offering me alternative options," he said with cold precision. "I asked about Osmont specifically. Tell me everything about him without deviation or substitution."

Avatars from THE Loom itself.

Entities that originated from a small subsection of that grand and unfathomable structure. They had been dispatched specifically because an entity had dared to encroach upon THE Primordial Civilization of Elemental.

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