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Infinite Mana In The Apocalypse (Web Novel) - Chapter 5886: Come!
Chapter 5886: Come!
This chapter is updated by JustRead.pl
The questions came from every side at once.
"What did she want?" Moriarty demanded. "What King? Which Legacy does he hold?"
"Unfathomable...hmmm" the Thinker murmured, half to himself.
"Are they coming back?"
"What..."
Question after another came as Noah did not answer many!
Noah sent a small part of his existence somewhere else as he thought about many things.
He went back to his mother’s dream!
The shore was quiet. The afternoon light had gone soft and gold, the boats rocked gently at the dock, and somewhere the same bird was still calling its three notes. Seo-yeon had fallen asleep with her head in Amelia’s lap, one hand still curled around the end of her fishing pole, and Amelia was stroking her hair absently.
Noah sat down beside them on the warm boards, in his plain human body and white robes.
Amelia looked at him for a long moment.
"What happened?" she asked.
Noah watched the water for a while before he answered.
"Someone much more powerful than me is telling me what I can and cannot do," he said. "They said that if I keep doing what I am doing now, only death lies ahead."
He smiled a little.
"But of course, it is not in my nature to listen."
Amelia’s hand stopped in Seo-yeon’s hair.
"No," she said. "It is not in our nature to listen."
She looked out over the water, and her voice stayed low so the girl in her lap would keep sleeping.
"When you were small, the doctors told me all kinds of things about my son. Wonky doctors, some of them with degrees in philosophy, telling me what you would never be able to do and who you would never be. I listened to them politely, and then I went home and did not listen at all."
She smiled faintly at the memory.
"And when the apocalypse took me away, when time and death themselves told you that you would never see your mother again, you did not listen either. You came anyway. Across your whole existence, my son has never once listened to anyone who told him what he could or could not do."
Her eyes came back to his, and they were steady and bright.
"Whatever powerful monsters are out there now, however long they have been alive, it is the same. My son will do what my son wishes to do."
HUUM!
Something stirred in Amelia as she said it, an air of quiet tyranny that buzzed around her, the stubborn will of a woman who had raised a son through every no that life could throw at them. Seo-yeon sighed in her sleep and burrowed closer.
Noah smiled, and closed his eyes.
It was never in his nature to listen to others!
---
<THE Maker of Scales>
Heavy snow was falling in the Undefined Gaps.
It fell over a battlefield that had only just gone quiet. Torn Gaps hung open in the dark, edges still smoking, and the Conduits that ran through them shook with the last echoes of a fight that had ended too suddenly to have a proper ending.
Six figures waited in the snow!
At the front stood THE REMINISCING WIDOW, the twisted loop of her ring glowing faintly, and beside her hung THE MATRIARCH OF INK, a tall shape of flowing ink whose dripping edges rose back up into her as fast as they fell. Atlas, THE Great Engineer, stood with them, tall and lean and drawn in fine lines of pale gold, the same twisted loop glowing through his chest.
Behind them were three more. Anaximander knelt in the snow beside THE Creature, who was badly hurt, and a little apart from them floated THE Writer of Mythos with a closed book resting on her knees, looking bored and curious at the same time as she also healed.
Then existence pulsed!
A rift tore across existence as a grand visage was stepping out!
Every falling snowflake in the Gaps stopped at once and hung in the air. The torn Gaps drew in a breath. The Conduits, all of them, as far as anyone could sense, turned very slightly in the same direction, as flowers turn toward the sun, and there he was.
Vakochev!
He stood among them in the snow as if he had always been standing there, a tall figure wrapped in slow-moving obsidian with black lightning sleeping in its folds, and his dark eyes were calm. He simply stood there, quiet as the snow, and existence around him moved when he breathed, as if it had been waiting for him to arrive and was relieved that he finally had.
The snow began to fall again.
"You are a little late," Atlas said, with a dry tilt of his golden head. "Seconds ago, THE Sealed One gave the order himself for all of them to pull back. Almost as if he knew something a bit grander was coming."
Vakochev nodded slowly and looked around at the torn Gaps, the smoking Conduits, the waiting figures.
"With existence being so old," he said grandly, "exceptional beings will always rise here and there..."
Then he stopped!
His gaze had found Anaximander, kneeling in the snow, pressing steady hands against the Creature’s wounds and murmering to him, calm and scholarly even now.
Vakochev’s eyes narrowed!
Then they began to shine, with a bright, brilliant light that had nothing to do with the snow or the dark, and every figure in the Gaps felt the weight of his attention shift onto one person.
"Existence is truly vast," Vakochev said softly. "Associating with you lot might have some positives after all."
He took one step toward Anaximander.
"You. What are... what is your name?"
It almost seemed he had meant to ask what Anaximander was, before he changed his mind and asked for a name!
Anaximander felt that gaze land on him, heavy and terrifying, the gaze of a lifeform far past anything he knew how to measure. He held it. He helped THE Creature to his feet, and the two of them rose together in the snow.
"I am Anaximander," he said calmly.
Vakochev nodded, as if that answered something and opened a dozen other questions at once.
"Come," he said. "I need to confirm a few things, and there are gazes of too many Narratives all around."
Behind him, existence opened like a page!
It split down a seam no one had seen and turned back, and through the opening came the roar of the Primordial Source, an endless obsidian sea heaving and raging under a sky of black lightning, boundless and old and terribly alive. The snow that fell toward it hissed into steam.
Vakochev stepped into it first, his back to them all.
Atlas turned and beckoned to the two behind him.
Anaximander looked at THE Creature calmly, and asked him silently, mind to mind, "Who the hell was that guy? Should we go?"
THE Creature’s eyes were burning. The swirling white in them had deepened until it looked like countless profundities turning over one another, and he stared at the opening where Vakochev had gone.
"That was THE Maker of Scales," he said. "Existence is breathing all around that... that is Vakochev. Let’s go see."
WAA!
He said it and walked, his injured body leaning into each step, straight toward the raging Source. Anaximander followed close at his shoulder.
Behind them, THE Writer of Mythos rose grandly from where she had floated. Her book opened on its own, and a pen began to write across a fresh page in quick, eager strokes as she drifted after THE MATRIARCH OF INK, who was already glidding ahead into the dark sea.
"What kind of Mythos," she whispered, watching the words appear, "could be blooming here? Before I die, I really want to see...something grand."
...!
