Infinite Mana In The Apocalypse novel Chapter 3773

Chapter 3773: The Coronation of Folded Time!

My distinction as the Origin Prime Osmontian Infinitum bore the brunt of it.

The pressure of endless folded time did not tear my Lineage apart.

No.

It tried something else.

“Ho?” My eyes sparkled.

It pressed upon the authority contained within my Lineage, tried to eat away at the very complexity and purity that fueled it, the lifeblood of its existence.

The Authority that powered up the Existential Dimensional Lattices of my Lineage.

The moment I sensed it, I understood something and smiled.

This was why others failed.

Why, after a few hours, even the strongest Primarchs faltered.

The Cradle was not simply crushing their True Sources.

It was grinding down their authority.

The very essence that maintained the complexity of their Lattices, the regenerative fountain that allowed them to maintain their existence in this suffocating realm, it was siphoned, worn away.

And slowly, inevitably, they would be hollowed out.

Until they collapsed.

Until they were ejected.

Even if they built Lattices, even if they forged resistances, their energy, their authority, could not regenerate fast enough.

They could not endure.

Their energy, their mana, could not sustain them with all the layered epochs.

That was the fate of others.

But me?

The Cradle pressed harder.

Epochs battered me.

A thousand years in a second.

Ten thousand in the next.

It was heavy.

But where others would see their authority wither, mine…

HUUM.

Mine regenerated.

Because the authority of my Lineage, and the authority of every True Source I bore, was fueled by something the Cradle could not deplete.

Follow new episodes on the "N0vel1st.c0m".

My Mana.

My Infinite Mana.

What the Cradle thought to unmake, to erode, it only reforged.

This ordeal actually put my authority across epochs of time to erode it and wear it down.

Hah.

I was an engine powered by multiple different faces of complexity and purity.

An engine running on endless mana at its core.

And this ordeal wanted to cause an increase in complexity and purity by depriving what made me of its fuel to propel me to surge over epochs?

With my Mana being Infinite, there was no exhaustion of fuel. While my Lineage, my True Sources, my Complexity and Purity, would still bear the pressure of epochs of folded time, but with no exhaustion.

No hollowing.

Only reinforcement.

Only evolution.

The authority of my Lineage burned brighter.

The Infinite Mana spun endlessly through my weavings, through my Living Wheel, saturating and strengthening every fold, every structure.

And so…

As others were ground into ash by the weight of folded time, I…

I was carved sharper.

Made finer.

The Infinite Mana did not just allow me to endure.

It empowered me to devour.

The very battering of the Cradle reforged my Infinite Mana, subsequently honing my Manadynamics and the True Source of Infinity to terrifying degrees, even if capped by the nine Lattices I had already forged.

But more importantly, it granted me the one luxury no one else in the Cradle could afford.

I could endure.

Indefinitely.

I smiled.

A simple, terrible thing.

And with that smile, I turned my attention away from my Lineage and the already Primarchial True Sources.

I had work to do while given such a glorious environment.

I began with the newly gained complex True Sources first.

Chronospirit unfolded first as I exhibited this True Source over my skin.

The Cradle’s folded time crashed down upon it.

It was not even at Primarchy as it held nothing to protect itself.

An entity with less would have been crushed instantly.

But I fed it my Infinite Mana.

And it grew.

It flourished.

It absorbed the epochs, the ages, the endless fall of collapse, while only the fuel of Mana burned.

Within moments…

| Primarchy Initiated: Chronospirit. |

| Forming Existential Dimensional Lattices… |

Lattices unfurled.

Nine.

Glorious.

Fractal and infinite, shimmering in hues of deep violet and silver, the interplay of time and soul made manifest.

I moved on.

Pyrochron, time and elements emerged.

Epochs tore at it.

Flames that burned brighter than stars blazed across the folded eras, devouring, consuming, transforming.

| Primarchy Initiated: Pyrochron. |

| Forming Existential Dimensional Lattices… |

Again.

Nine Lattices.

A symphony of time-wreathed fire.

Aeonforge.

Conceptum Vitae.

One after another, the True Sources I had prepared were lifted under the relentless pressure of folded time, their structures evolving, elevating.

Each forged to Primarchy.

Each birthing nine more Lattices.

And still the Cradle pressed down.

Still it tried to unmake my Infinite Mana.

But it could not.

I was a paradox.

An impossibility.

The others, Resplendent Monads, Primarchs, watching from outside would not understand.

From their perspective, I stood still in the heart of collapse.

My body with its arms outstretched as it withstood everything.

But within?

I was transcending.

Living a thousand years in each breath.

My body, my existence, my True Sources, all bathed in the endless forge of Folded Time.

Every Lattice formed was another layer of dominion.

Another mark of inevitability.

The Cradle was a slaughterhouse to the weak.

To me?

It was a coronation.

A redefinition.

I was not merely reforging.

I was becoming.

Because what the Cradle offered…

I would not simply endure it.

I would ascend by it.

I continued.

No pause. No hesitation.

The Cradle of Folded Time pressed, ground, collapsed.

But it could not diminish me.

It only fueled me.

My Infinite Mana churned, endlessly feeding the authority of my True Sources as they bathed in the endless epochal onslaught.

I did not stop at Chronospirit, Pyrochron, Aeonforge, or Conceptum Vitae.

No.

There was more.

There was always more.