Infinite Mana In The Apocalypse novel Chapter 5668

Chapter 5668: Dreamer!

The center of the gigaparsec-wide Dimension was reduced to a churning, ruined sea of crimson gold Sanguine Mana and shattered reality.

Descartes stood at the edge of the destruction. The old philosopher kept his unfathomable gaze fixed on his two disciples. THE Primordial Paradox and Erwin flickered violently, trapped in a constant, agonizing state of paradox.

Descartes fed them his own authority, ensuring they remained simultaneously alive and dead, here and not, refusing to let the residual Provenance Cause of Existential Terminus claim their existences.

Once he stabilized them, Descartes turned and floated over the sea of blood to stop near Noah.

"Existence loves and loathes Those Who Remain for the exact same reason," Descartes said.

"It loves what they can do, and it loathes what they can do. They have free reign to author the epochs, but they also have restrictions. They can succeed, and they can fail. They failed here."

The philosopher looked at the scattered, rotting ash of the Scion.

"What do you think they will do?"

Noah stood amidst the ruin of his own making, his shattered skin still knitting itself together.

"They’ll simply try again," Noah replied calmly.

"Yes," Descartes nodded. "But they are not omniscient. They do not know many things, and they only know some things. If they fully and truly knew about you or I, we might not be alive much longer."

Descartes clasped his hands behind his back, looking up at the shredded, empty sky of the moving Dimensional Cabin.

"But we also cannot remain in the place where one of their tools has died. That will just give them free information when they send others to check. We are lucky none were watching this Dimension directly... or perhaps it is not luck at all. Perhaps it is a part of their restrictions. If they already had one of their cards on the field, existence demands balance. They could not also watch. Even I do not know."

The old man sighed, the weight of countless epochs settling into his shoulders.

"There are many profundities about existence, about Provenance Lifeforms and Those Who Remain, that remain a complete mystery. Vakochev tried to peer through these mysteries and change things. Even someone as grand as him failed. That alone should have told all of us to not even try."

Descartes looked back at Noah, the corners of his eyes crinkling with a sad, ancient warmth.

"But we are thinking beings, and we dream. Oh, we love to dream."

To dream.

To Dream!

HUUM!

Noah felt his entire existence violently buzz!

The words of the old philosopher did not just land in his ears. They struck the very bedrock of his identity like a physical trigger!

His entire existence vibrated with an unfathomable frequency, and it was his Provenance Essence that buzzed the absolute loudest.

To dream!

It was only human to dream. All humans always dreamed. They dreamed of a better life. They dreamed of a better spouse, a better home, a better anything and everything. The capacity to imagine a reality grander than the one they were handed was the defining trait of humanity.

As THE True Human Emperor, was Noah not the grandest dreamer of them all?

He dreamed of coming out on top against monsters who had lived for Ages. He dreamed of surviving and butchering the exact architects that Vakochev had failed against. Even standing in the wreckage of a nearly impossible battle, bleeding from a dozen fresh wounds, he still dared to dream. He still dared to believe.

At the absolute core of his existence, this was who he was. A human who dreamed of a better life.

Dreams almost always remained dreams for the vast majority of existence. But some humans fulfilled them. Noah wanted to be among them. He wanted to succeed against impossible odds, and he wanted to drag his people to the summit with him.

They had gained a true, generated identity.

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