Infinite Mana In The Apocalypse novel Chapter 5725

Chapter 5725: Existence and Time! I

<Pocket of Narrative Existence: THE Endless Dusk>

The spilled tea had soaked into the boards where she knelt.

The cold of the Fiend’s visit still hung in the air, and her throat still ached where his fingers had held it. She could feel the words he had pressed into her, sitting at the back of her jaw like a bruise. He had walked into her home and out again without once slowing his stride.

She had spent an age keeping still!

That had been the whole of her strategy. Stay quiet, hold what she had lost on the Mountain of Gu without stirring it, and maybe the currents would pass her porch by. She had told herself the stillness was a kind of strength. That keeping the past intact and undisturbed was itself a way of enduring.

The Fiend had taken ten seconds to show her what it actually was.

Staying still in front of Those Who Remain did not hide you from them. It only made you easy. An architect did not respect a thing that would not defend its own door. He looked at it and saw something that had saved him the walk.

The Widow got up off the timber.

The silk was wet at her knees. She did not look down at it. She straightened, and her spine came up out of the stoop it had held for Ages.

Behind her veil, the two halos stopped.

For as long as she could remember, since the sky over the mountain had gone grey, they had turned one way and pulled her grief inward, holding her still. Now they hung motionless for a breath. Then they turned the other way.

The grief she had been storing all that time stopped going in. It started coming out and hardening along the edge of her porch.

She reached into the deepest fold of herself, where she had buried it, and drew out the mobius ring.

She set it on the table, between the upright cup and the broken one, and pressed her fingertip to the spikes along its curve. She fed a thread of her own Trueness into the metal. The ring took it, and the line opened, running to Atlas past every thread.

"What are you planning, Atlas?" Her voice was level. "What do you want to do? I...will not do it the way I did it last time. I will give you my power now, and whatever else you need. I do not know if you meant this, leaving your ring with me. But I am going to try to believe in possibilities."

WAA!

The porch was quiet for a long moment.

The mist beyond the timber did not move, as if the dusk were waiting to hear whether the dead answered.

Then something turned over inside the iron and the metal warmed under her hand.

"Existence is full of things that do not care how safe you feel," Atlas said. "Everyone thinks they are untouchable. They sit up high, they build their little fences, they decide the sky owes them a favor. I thought so too, once. Grand workshops, a crowd of bright fools carving to my drawings, and I was sure my blueprints were law. I was wrong. I was loud and careless, and it cost me my hands."

"I am quieter now, humble..." he went on. "Quieter, and meaner about it. When you have no hands left to swing a hammer, you learn fast which joint to tap to bring the whole ceiling down. You were grand once yourself, you know. Before you made a headstone of your porch, you walked the folds without flinching, and even Those Who Remain gave your perimeter room. What you did just now is a start. Hold your footing this time and you might...end up larger than you ever were. Maybe. Maybe..."

"So. There is work to be done. I have the first move already. An inscription. I want to take the eyes off them, off Those Who Remain. If they cannot see or hear...things become just a bit fairer."

...!

<THE True Human Emperor>

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