Infinite Mana In The Apocalypse novel Chapter 5628

Chapter 5628: Accountable!

The celebration was winding down when Warden Yrsa appeared behind him with the golden collar open in her hands.

"Your service has concluded, big guy" she said. "Protocol resumes."

Noah lowered his head slightly, and let her close THE GILDED CLAUSE around his neck, and the click of it rang through a hall that had gone quiet and uncomfortable at the sight, seven cured Descendants watching their miracle be leashed again.

"None of that," Mahishasura had said hours ago, about a shove.

He said nothing at all about a collar.

And within Noah, behind the lowered eyes of a compliant prisoner, his two halves were in session!

"We have everything," THE Open Hand said. "All the memories. The plan was information, and the plan is complete."

"The plan has matured," THE Closed Crown answered. "Look at the room, brother. Every asset of this workshop is standing in one sealable box. An Enforcer whose measure we now hold. A Warden whose blood ties to the ninth chair. Seven Veiled Descendants that answer to our commands. This opportunity will not reassemble itself easily"

"So..."

"Kharvel watched Mahishasura for two thousand years without blinking." The Crown’s voice echoed. "The seven compared themselves to him constantly. Their reckoning agrees: deep, but not past the middle thirties in attributes. Four of them hold him for a breath. Seven hold him for longer. Seven, plus surprise, plus a sealed Dimension, plus us... hold him for as long as we need."

"And Yrsa?"

"Yrsa," said the Crown, "is mine."

A pause, and then the Hand, quietly: "Seal the box."

HUUM!

It began with nothing anyone could see.

Along seven threads written into the language of seven existences, options opened. Not commands, not yet, only readiness, and seven celebrating Descendants felt nothing at all as their bodies became pieces on a board they could not perceive!

Through the Weft-thread bound quietly to this pocket Dimension a while ago, crimson rivers only one being could see slid across every seam and door and fold of the marble abode, and latched, and held.

The box sealed. No signal would leave it. Nothing would leave it!

Then, gently, a thread pulled.

Baelgrim, laughing, waved Mahishasura over toward the long table. "My friend! Come, sit with us. For years I could not taste food, only need it. Sit, and watch a man eat for joy."

And Mahishasura came, of course, smiling his composed smile, drifting into the heart of his collection’s happiness, accepting wine he did not drink, seating himself among cured brethren!

Sylvaine drifted to his left, telling him of the blade. Othrys took his right, making him say the name again. The three loungers closed in behind with their cups, warm, adoring, casual.

And across the hall, on the marble floor, Kharvel’s eyes opened from the first sleep of many millennia, clear and rested and calm, and he rose without a sound.

Yrsa noticed none of it. Why would she? A host among his grateful cured, a hall full of joy, a prisoner standing collared and docile at her side.

Seven Descendants moved in the same instant, in complete silence.

No shout. No flare!

Baelgrim’s arms closed around Mahishasura’s body from the side with the whole of a mountain’s mass behind them, Sylvaine’s blade was through his shoulder before the wine in his hand had finished falling, Othrys and the three took his limbs, and Kharvel arrived last and struck once, precisely, at a point below the Enforcer’s ribs where its lineage was written heavily, and the composed immensity of Descendant Mahishasura hit his own marble floor under the mass of his entire collection!

BOOOOM!

The pocket Dimension shook!

"Wh-" Yrsa’s wravings of protocol shattered!

Her pale eyes went wide, flicking from the pile of silent violence to the exits that were no longer exits, shock and horror arriving on a face that had never once worn either. "What... what is-"

And beside her, the collared prisoner rose from his docile stillness, unhurried, and rolled his neck against the golden band.

"Crazy stuff, isn’t it?" Noah said mildly. "Existence is truly vast, and full of terrors."

...!

Yrsa turned to him very slowly, and the shock on her face cooled and hardened into something ancient.

"This is your doing?!"

Noah did not reply.

Instead, at the sides of his head, two small figures of stellar blue-gold stirred, and one of them, the cross-legged one, bowed out, and the other, arms folded, dark gold at its edges, opened its eyes for the first time.

"My turn," said THE Closed Crown.

|THE PROVENANCE OF THE CLOSED CROWN has fully embodied your existence.|

He did not dodge. Dodging was for the light. His body had become unfathomably heavy, twenty-five of PONDUS packed into every limb, and he walked forward through the blade-storm as white edges rang off his frame and opened thin lines that closed before they finished opening, and his right arm rose and fell like an ancient hammer, reinforced in Provenance Essence.

BOOM!

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