Infinite Mana In The Apocalypse novel Chapter 3779

Chapter 3779: Fold Dwellers II

A quiet revelation.

I understood.

Not in a flash of brilliance, nor some grand unraveling of hidden truths. No. It came slow, steady- in the way a river wears down stone, patient and inevitable.

Paradox, living now, breathing as I breathed, would not be content as mere shield or foundation.

It was something more.

A catalyst.

I could feel it, deep in the weavings of my being, threading itself through the weavings of my existence. Hard to describe, though if I tried, I would call it…

Anchoring.

Tethering.

Once, I had been bound to the certainties of my Complexity and Purity. My existence woven carefully, held firm by what I was and what I could be. But now, there was a shift. A stillness.

A grounding.

No matter the storm, no matter the paradox that tore at the edges of reality, I would not be unmade.

Anchoring.

It meant I could not be undone by contradiction. Others might fracture, their Lattices severed by the careless hand of collapse or paradox. But mine would remain- immutable, indelible.

I would not unravel when reality itself turned against me.

I would endure.

The Foldless Ones, the Living Paradoxes, endured not because they were the strongest, nor the most ruthless, but because they were anchored beyond the simple dictates of existence. Fixed not to what was, but to what could not be altered.

It was not invincibility. It was not immunity.

It was a quiet defiance.

A refusal.

A tether lashed to a shore unreachable by the tides of unmaking.

And, like all things Paradox, it was incomplete. A beginning. A potential waiting to be forged.

I would have to shape it, hammer it in battle and contradiction, temper it against collapse until the anchor was unbreakable.

But the seed was there.

Growing.

And it would take more than strength alone to uproot me now.

The 10th Lattice wove itself into place, threads locking and settling into orbit around Paradox’s living form.

A breath escaped me, slow and steady.

Outside, the Cradle of Folded Time cracked and groaned, folds of false eternity unwinding, tearing apart.

The Irradions surged forward like a black tide, while the Living Collapse stood unmoved, poised against them. The battle balanced on a razor’s edge.

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And I?

I was now…

Rooted.

Anchored.

Calm as a stone at the bottom of the deepest ocean.

The threads of the Cradle strained, a final high, thin note- like glass under too much weight.

Yet amidst the growing collapse, something within me pulsed. A warmth, steady and inevitable.

The prompt unfolded before me, silent and precise.

|Evaluation complete. True Existential Quantification finalized. |

|Distinction attained: Living True Anchor Being of Existence. |

| Distinction: Even if all Existential Dimensional Lattices are decimated and all weavings of existence severed, the user will not experience True Death. Anchored and tethered to the roots of Existence itself, the user will reconstitute from collapse, initiating reformation within moments. |

I read the words.

And then I read them again.

A slow breath stirred in my chest, unseen and unfelt by any but me.

Living True Anchor Being.

The words rang heavy, folding themselves through the Lattices of my soul.

Anchor.

Tether.

Even should all of me be shattered- Lattices crumbled, Resistances unwound, True Sources cracked and scattered- I would not end.

I would begin again.

From something deeper than mere existence.

From the tether wound invisibly through the roots of reality itself.

It was a terrifying thing.

A humbling thing.

I turned inward, letting my awareness sweep across the latticework of my being, feeling the way the anchor pulsed beneath everything, quiet and immovable.

Even now, seated in the crumbling heart of a dying wonder, I felt it.

A stillness.

A certainty.