Infinite Mana In The Apocalypse novel Chapter 5474

Chapter 5474: Elvarna! IV

THE Creature descended, and Noah’s eyes narrowed.

Three hours. Less than three hours had passed, and yet this monster was clearly stronger than before!

Noah’s mind churned. He himself relied on the Osmontian Tongue, the Tide That Owes Nothing, and a bloodline that fed him boon after boon. Every increase in his power had a grand source behind it. But THE Creature possessed no such things. No Letters. No Distinction. No Genesis Tesseracts to devour.

And yet he had grown this much, in the time it took to draw a few breaths?

He wasn’t some hidden protagonist that Existence bent around, right?

He shook his head and set the thought aside. Now was not the time.

The two of them exchanged a nod, and their gazes swept across the burning Expanse together. Then Noah’s eyes moved past it all. Past the twisting mountains, past the torn and bleeding sky, past the Originals hovering above who were beginning to regret their descent. Past the countless chained prisoners with their faces turned up toward him.

Down. Deep into the mine. To the thing he had come to kill.

The Vessel.

Its aura pulsed against his senses, that unmistakable pressure of an ancient existence wearing the flesh of a lesser one. He had felt it twice before. He would never mistake it again.

His gaze rose, and he looked coldly across the crowd. Thousands of prisoners. Followers scattered atop the peaks, holding their positions, watching him.

"I have come for the Vessel you dogs have spent who knows how long feeding," Noah said. His voice was not loud, yet it pressed down on the entire Expanse. "Every one of you who dares call yourself a Follower, listen well, for I will say this only once. If even a sliver of Intent or Pantheon rises from you, you die. Any who stand between me and that Vessel, yet hold their tongues, may live long enough to watch." His eyes swept the mountains. "Any who desire a different fate. Step forward. Let us begin."

HUUM!

He lifted his hand, and THE Loyal Reach materialized within it, the split blade catching the crimson light, its quasi-True Intent thrumming softly. He began to drift downward, unhurried, and his flat, indifferent words struck the crowd harder than any roar could have.

Above, the Originals exchanged glances!

Every existence present could feel it. He was different! Almost none of them could explain why. They simply felt it in their bones, the way a beast senses a storm before the sky admits anything.

One among them decided that feeling was not enough. That dumb motherfucker.

A Warden. Massive, his body like a wall poured full of Infinity, glowing rivers of it carved down both arms, an Ego of Ira coiling around him thick as smoke. Mesozoic Scale, and among the stronger of them. Noah watched pride and terror make the decision in his place, the way they always did with the ones who cracked first. The Warden’s Olympian Intent began to erupt, crimson pressure stacking around him, a body of law rising to declare that he, at least, would not kneel in silence.

Noah had already decided how this would end. He did not reach for the blade.

He reached for the wings.

THE Pinion Vigil of the Unbroken Gaze burst from his back and unfurled, two vast wings spreading across the heavens, and every eye upon them opened at once. Hundreds of them, blue-black and gleaming, their lemniscate pupils rotating slowly in every direction. Some stared outward at the Expanse. Others, he knew, stared inward at himself. Along the membranes, countless tiny mouths began to whisper, a sound just beneath hearing that could neither be understood nor ignored.

The wings settled into place as though they had always belonged there. Because they had!

He allowed the Estuary Eye to open as well, high above him, the nine-pointed star turning slowly, hungrily, existence already bleeding toward it in thin streams.

And he left them both in plain sight for all to see. This was new for him. For a while, he had concealed the truest parts of himself, veiling this anatomy out of caution and instinct. But the Distinction had made something clear in the little while since it descended upon him, and the more he turned it over, the more it held. One could not stand as fully True while hiding the very things that made one True. Concealment was a gap between what he showed and what he was, and gaps were precisely what his enemy hunted. So he hid them no longer. Better to be seen and whole than veiled and lessened!

Noah had witnessed countless deaths. This one he marked as an existence handed a mirror it could not survive gazing into.

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