Infinite Mana In The Apocalypse novel Chapter 3767

I let the prompt linger for a breathless instant.

The offer.

Two doors.

Two futures.

One: The True Source of Khaos.

To seize the very origin of Bob's power, to unravel it, remake it, perfect it.

Or—

Two: His memories.

His journey since he attained that power.

His decisions.

His regrets.

His Fable.

I chose immediately as my mind settled from viewing things in two different perspectives of existence simultaneously.

My own view and narration felt nice and simple. The narration of another hand was unique as it held its own charms.

Seeing both occur simultaneously opened my gaze.

My gaze, calm and unfaltering, still remained on Thauron. His imposing Null Form was still. His ancient, unspeakable will restrained for now.

And Bob…

Bob still stared.

Still wondered.

Still despondent as I remembered how he felt.

His anger. His hopelessness. His drive for nothing else but his daughter. But did that drive make it okay for him to do what he did?

I folded my hands behind my back, my fingers weaving together as easily as one might interlace strands of inevitability.

I smiled, not wide, not grand.

Just enough.

Enough for Bob to see.

Enough for Thauron, the Null Monarch, to understand.

The Null Monarch.

Looking at his figure, my mind was instantly drawn over to the prophecy my other self mentioned.

[…The Black Monarch will offer choice, but not freedom. The Sentinels of Reversal will ask for the Keys that should not exist.

One will walk away empty. One will walk away whole. One will not walk away…]

Time Sentinels already came and asked for a Key. Did this refer to the Time Sentinels he killed, or others since the Key was plural in the prophecy?

The Black Monarch…was it not the Null Monarch?

"…"

I disliked the haziness of the prophecy as I rather liked simplicity.

I shifted slightly, almost languidly, as if the weight of the last exchange had not even brushed against me.

"Now then," I said softly.

Thauron tilted his head, a slow, predatory motion.

Bob's tentacles twitched, the massive mass of his Null Form coiling tighter.

I could feel his tension.

His hesitation.

His confusion.

He did not yet understand.

How could he?

He had not walked the paths I had.

Not seen the Fables I had.

Not devoured what I had devoured.

The quiet hum of the Middle Wheel Platform persisted, but it felt thinner now.

Sharper.

As if the very Frequency of the platform strained to listen.

I looked at Thauron and Bob, hands folded neatly behind my back.

Calm.

Unhurried.

Dominant.

"I merely wanted to make an introduction."

A pause.

A deliberate one.

"Since those who were seeking me," I continued, my gaze passing lazily over Bob's towering, unmoving form, "have finally arrived."

Bob remained silent.

Somber.

Tense.

As if trying, and failing, to process what had just unfolded.

I let the silence stretch a heartbeat longer before speaking again, voice smooth and unbothered.

"You now know where I am."

My gaze narrowed, just a fraction.

"I'll get back to my business."

Thauron's response was immediate.

A slow, reverent incline of his colossal Null Form, a gesture of power from a being who commanded Finality itself.

Finality.

Just thinking of that concept made my heart pulse. If this entity was not such a monster, I might have tried to make a move.

His eyes, hidden deep within the monument of his existence, pulsed.

Bright.

Brilliant.

Alive.

"Of course," Thauron rumbled, his voice carrying the weight of collapsed aeons, "proceed with what you need to do."

He shifted slightly, not a threat, not submission.

Acceptance.

"The True Source Sigils here," Thauron continued, "are of profound help in expanding your complexity."

He spoke softly now, almost contemplatively.

"Observing the weavings of other beings, their truths, their collapses, and how all things eventually lead toward Finality..."

He paused, the air around him thick with ancient wisdom.

"...it can help one greatly in elevating their understanding of Paradoxical Resistance."

I inclined my head, slow and controlled, a silent acknowledgment that his words were not lost on me.

As if I understood.

As if I agreed.

As if we, Existences of different natures, spoke the same language.

And then…

I raised my hand.

Effortlessly.

No flourish.

No theatrics.

Just precision.

Authority.

Existence buckled faintly.

And from my palm, it erupted.

Obsidian violet brilliance, searing and cold at once, rippling outward like the slow unfurling of a silent catastrophe.

It was…

Khaos.

Bob's True Source of Existence.

Not a replica.

Not a shadow.

The genuine, terrifying, uncontested weaving of Khaos itself.

The violet-black aurora spread slowly, majestically, tendrils of paradox and entropy dancing across the air.

I let it unfold.

Let it breathe.

Let it be.

Freely.

Unashamedly.

Bob's colossal Null Form shuddered.

Visibly.

A sharp intake of breath, a flicker of disgust and incredulity across his ashen face.

As if a part of him, primal, instinctual, recognized the theft.

The impossibility.

The inevitability.

Thauron's vast eyes gleamed brighter still.

Hungry.

Fascinated.

Not with envy.

But with pure, undiluted curiosity.

I turned my gaze to Bob.

Smiling.

Tyrannical.

Magnificent.

I said nothing as I did not need to.

The Khaos roiled around me in a quiet, sovereign storm as I turned, cloak fluttering lightly in the storm of collapsing paradox, and began walking away.

Not hurried.

Not arrogant.

Just certain.

I walked calmly, unhurriedly, heading back toward Votharion Mountain, the towering structure of obsidian collapse awaiting me.

Each step silent.

Each breath steady.

Behind me, the stunned silence of the Middle Wheel Platform remained.

Kalysta trailed a few steps behind, her form shimmering faintly as she followed without speaking, only stealing glances back toward Bob and Thauron, who remained rooted in place.

Bob's thoughts churned.

Tangled.

Disbelieving.

Thauron watched.

His unseen smile sharper now.

Deeper.

As if amused by the game he found himself in.

But me?

I did not look back.

I did not slow.

Because when one was inevitable—

There was never a need to.

—

Absolute Fictional Transcendence was in a weakened state after its constant and heavy usage.

And in such a state, variations of Fables could unfold freely, allowing grand perspectives to drift loose and unrestrained, glimpses into the ripples of causality that could not otherwise be seen.

The atmosphere remained tense around the landing zone of the Middle Wheel Platform.

"I will discuss Paradoxes," Thauron said with a slow, cold smile, "and more…" _{freewēbnoveℓ.com}