Infinite Mana In The Apocalypse novel Chapter 3784

Chapter 3784: The Tug of the Fold Dwellers I

I launched forward, blue-gold flames spiraling behind me like dying stars.

My weavings pulsed. My mind sharpened.

Every lattice, every flicker of paradox roared as I prepared to strike.

And then, in the middle of such grandeur and glory...

| Absolute Fictional Transcendence senses a coming change that vastly changes the current narrative. |

What?

| The True Source of Destiny warns you of an extremely powerful coming change. |

|The Living True Source of the Protagonist curses!|

...!

The weavings of my Existence buzzed.

I slowed.

Not because of fear. But because the air itself...shifted.

Reality paused.

Across the shattered Null Cradle of Fold-Breaking Ascension, a voice rippled through the broken Fold like a lazy afterthought carried on the wind.

"Bah... if things were unfolding like this, then I didn’t even need to come. Why did those old hags force me to make my way here?"

...!

A voice.

Dripping with annoyance, laced with drunken grandeur- yet behind it, a pressure that folded time itself backward for half a heartbeat.

Thauron, who had been a blade of Finality moments ago, instantly stopped mid-strike.

His expression darkened and became somber. He pulled waves of Finality around himself like a shield as he retreated towards the distant mountain where Bob stood.

Those of the Mannafolds and Chronosect of Threadbound Folds became stern.

The Fold Dwellers from the Veiled Sunfolds...their reactions were stranger.

Althera inhaled softly. Caedryn froze mid-weave. The Solstice Veils all turned- some with relief, some with unmistakable dread.

As if they knew that voice.

And wished they didn’t.

Kalysta whispered it under her breath like the name of a forgotten wonder.

"...Master Shen..."

The name trembled with reverence and resignation.

Then he appeared after his voice had spread out.

An old man. Well, not truly as his dark hair was lustrous and vibrant, his beard majestic.

White-gold robes swaying, sleeves loose and flowing like faded glory.

He stepped out from behind a crack in the Folds above, a single gourd dangling from his hand, sloshing rhythmically as he took a lazy gulp.

His steps wobbled slightly... yet the ground beneath him repaired itself with every movement.

Like existence realigned for his balance.

He raised a hand and waved cheerfully toward the stunned Fold Dwellers.

"Haha! Why do you all look like you’ve seen a ghost? Hmph. Should I really not have come?"

His face twitched- dramatically, exaggeratedly- as if wounded.

One of the Solstice Veils quickly coughed into his fist.

"Of course we’re happy to see you, Master Shen," he said, voice tight. "If you could... please lend us your aid-"

"Haaaah, finally!" The old man took another swig and grinned like the sun. "That’s more like it. A little respect goes a long way, kid."

He turned slightly, nodding at Kalysta.

"Little Sun Star. You’ve grown prettier. Still weak, though."

Kalysta bowed low, trembling, her crown of starlight dimming in the presence of the one who even the Primarchs deferred to.

"Thank you for the compliment, Sifu!"

...!

A Primarch...was replying like this towards the newly arriving being.

And then...

Existence hushed.

Even the Living Collapse paused, its obsidian-gold form shifting ever so slightly.

For the first time... it seemed to hesitate.

I narrowed my eyes.

This new arrival... was different.

He wasn’t just a Primarch.

He wasn’t just powerful.

He was something else entirely.

Unlike all of those here, he had exceeded Primarchy.

An entity beyond Primarchy!

I tried to observe him...

And failed.

Every field, every value on his status panel was replaced with:

[???]

Except for very, very few.

NAME: Master Shen (Sifu, the Drunken Master)

TITLE: ?????

TRUE SOURCE: Gongfu

CQ: ????? SU | PQ: ???? SU

RESISTANCE: Law ???, Paradoxical???, Origin ???, Emotive ???, Spiritual ???, ???, ????

I blinked.

Incredulity nearly pulled me from my Ember Eternum state.

"...You’re kidding," I muttered aloud.

A True Source of Gongfu?

What kind of narrative was this?

But before I could laugh, his gaze shifted.

To me.

And everything stopped.

A hundred layers of existence pressed into mine like a blade to the throat.

Temporarily, I couldn’t move.

Couldn’t breathe.

And then, with a wink, he smiled and the pressure vanished like vapor, his gaze turning to the Living Collapse who had not moved, still frozen as if weighing a grim truth.

"I haven’t seen one of you in a while," Master Shen mused, adjusting his robes and shaking the more drops from his gourd that seemed endless. "You’re here for..."

He paused.

The Living Collapse said nothing.

Then its void-filled eyes turned slowly toward me once more.

"I am here for the Sin."

Its voice was cold again.

Absolute.

"The Sin of Refusal. The Heresy of Continuance. The Disgrace of Survival."

It lifted its arms, its ruined health crackling in silent protest.

And I knew it was preparing its final monologue. The last blow of a fading monster.

But the Drunken Master... had heard enough.

He sighed loudly.

"Boring."

And then...

He threw a punch.

A single lazy fist.

No flourish.

No battle cry.

Just a slow movement...

And Existence snapped.

BOOOOM!!!

One million Existential Dimensional Lattices flashed in a microsecond.

Not layered.

Not stacked.

One million Lattices at once.

They burst forward like a tsunami of glowing force.

I saw them.

My senses strained to keep up.

A cascading matrix of golden martial truth.

The fist collided with the Living Collapse, and the impossible happened.

The towering monster didn’t explode.

It didn’t scream.

It was...flattened.

Folded into a shimmering sheet of black and gold like crumpled paper, crushed between causalities and truths too strong to comprehend.

| Living Collapse — 0 / 999,999 |

...!

The silence was total.

Every Fold Dweller froze.

Even Thauron.

Even Kalysta.

The Drunken Master casually walked forward, picked up the collapsed sheet of Existence, and with two fingers, folded it like origami before slipping it into a satchel that had no right to exist.

Then he took another swig from his gourd and exhaled.

"Whew. That hit the spot."

No one spoke.

Not a soul.

Except me.