Infinite Mana In The Apocalypse novel Chapter 5606

Chapter 5606: Two Halves!

The first quark held, and Noah seated a Telos within it instead!

His Telos of Adversity answered first, a grain of the aim that lived in his lungs threading down into the borne quark, and the weight and the Provenance and the aim fused in one instant, and the quark stabilized and turned bright and stayed! One Provenance Telos Quark, the first grain of a body that would eventually be nothing but grains like it!

He moved the weight to the next one.

And the grandness of what followed filled the Realm from its first hill to its last!

The weight of Existence hung over him unending, an invisible mountain of THE Primordial Source and Infinity and THE Argent Loom and Time and Dimensions and Observable Existences and everything imperceivable, and Noah stood beneath it and did not sway, and quark after quark took the whole of it and held!

Bear, seat, stabilize, move! Bear, seat, stabilize, move!

The rhythm found itself and then quickened, ten quarks, a hundred, a thousand, the weight sliding through the anatomy of his ten singularities with less and less friction as his existence learned the shape of its own art!

And Thalia Vasiliou did not take her eyes off him.

She sat in the grass with her hand at her wound and she watched, and she did not blink more than she had to, because what she was watching should not have been happening!

There was supposed to be failure here! There was supposed to be a body bursting and starting over, and starting over, and starting over, and instead there was a man beneath the weight of all things transforming himself particle by particle without a single collapse!

Because Noah’s body was changing in real time.

His muscles rolled beneath his skin, sliding and pulsing as though they were being rewritten while they moved, fibers unmaking and remaking themselves denser with every thousand quarks converted! His frame drew tighter and grander, shoulders broadening under a weight that would have flattened Dimensions, his bare chest hardening as stellar blue threaded through the crimson gold of his blood beneath the surface!

His hair lifted in the pressureless air. His obsidian singularity pupils burned brighter. And all of him took on the bearing of some ancient lifeform overcoming its own limits again and again, tearing past the ceiling of what it was, then finding a new ceiling and tearing past that too, an existence in the middle of arguing with the size of itself and winning!

Ten thousand quarks!

Fifty thousand! The grass beneath him had caved into a crater and the hills groaned around the crater’s rim! Eighty thousand! His breathing had gone deep and slow and enormous, each inhale pulling the weight further into him instead of pushing it away!

One hundred thousand Provenance Telos Quarks!

And on the one hundred and first thousand... his existence ERUPTED!

BOOM!

Provenance detonated out of his depths in a flood, all ten singularities blazing at once as the accumulated generation of a hundred thousand aimed and remade particles finally crossed some threshold his existence had been climbing toward without telling him, and in the incandescent blue storm at his core...

An eleventh singularity bloomed!

...!

Eleven! He had broken past the count of ten, and the moment he did, the moment that new sun turned its first turn, something else happened, and Noah felt it arrive at the sides of his own head.

Radiant...blue wings bloomed!

They unfurled on either side of his head in brilliant light, wide and layered and beautiful, feathers of pure incandescent Provenance stretching out from his temples, and for one breath the Realm was lit by them alone!

Then the wings tranaformed!

They folded inward, drew together, condensed, and out of each of them rose a figure! Two miniature humanoids of stellar blue gold light, each hovering at either side of his head, each no larger than a forearm, and each one wearing his own face!

The one at his right sat cross-legged in the air, hands resting open on its knees, its light soft and even and warm, a stillness coming off it that felt like the doorway of his long hall and the murmur of his river and the calm of a man entirely aimed. Peace, personified. His Provenance as the thing that heals, protects, and gathers.

The one at his left stood upright with its arms folded, and its light burned dark gold at the edges, and its miniature frame carried a fiendish ancient weight that made the air around it feel narrower, a crown of shadowed brilliance turning above its head. Tyranny, personified. His Provenance as the thing that takes, breaks, and rules.

|A UNIQUE PRECEPT has been written: THE PRECEPT OF THE SUNDERED PROVENANCE.|

|Your Provenance now expresses itself as two manifestations of yourself, seated at either side of your head: THE PROVENANCE OF THE OPEN HAND and THE PROVENANCE OF THE CLOSED CROWN.|

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