Infinite Mana In The Apocalypse

Chapter 4276: Prisoners and Wars! V

They had been flying across uncountable distances at a terrifying pace for the last few minutes.

And in that period of time, Noah was not sitting still. He was a silent, captive emperor, but within the internal weavings of his own being, a universe of change was unfolding.

|Master, diagnostics are complete. The ongoing, symbiotic evolution between your existence and [The Aegis of the Architect] is proceeding at a rate that is... frankly, absurd.|

|Post-Battle Analysis: The harvest from the Trolls and the Yeti King was significant. Your own Purity has now reached a baseline of 150 Quadrillion. Your Complexity stands at 90 Quadrillion.|

|System Optimization: Your entire existential framework has been further optimized. I have made significant advancements in nurturing your Principles.|

| - [Perpetual Harvest] has advanced to 55% Maturity. The Seed Glyphs have been forged, and five additional Endowments have been utilized.|

| - [The Cheating Architect] has advanced to 15% Maturity. A total of 15 Seed Glyphs have now been forged.|

|Physiological Update: The process of Existential Hematopoiesis is accelerating. The number of Drops of Blood of an Early Creature across your being and the Aegis has now exceeded 500 Million.|

|The [Ascendran Nodule] has reached 71% completion.|

|The [Cheating Tower of Osmont] is, for lack of a better term, speedrunning its way towards the Fourth Stage.|

|General Assessment: If you were to simply sit still for a few years, allowing the passive evolution between you and the Aegis to continue, you could likely step into the Quintillions and enjoy a restful, prosperous life as a conceptual farmer. But, things are never that easy. Struggle is present. Struggle is real.|

|[The Aegis of the Architect] – Status Update|

|Classification: Growth-Type Symbiotic Living Existential Armor (Phase I)|

|Purity: 520,000,000,000,000,000|

|Augmentations:|

| - [The Tyrant’s Feast]: Actively refines the Everythings of defeated enemies into Purity, adding a percentage to the armor’s reserves and your own.|

| - [Innate Omnichalcum Aura Field]: Now capable of withstanding 520 Quadrillion in damage. Stored Kinetic Energy: 77 Quadrillion.|

| - [Absolute Purity Control]: Your voice is a law to those of lesser Purity.|

| - [Existential Trembling (Active)]: Your will can now induce absolute immobility.|

Oh!

Noah absorbed the data with glory! He was a prisoner, yes, but he was a prisoner who was becoming more powerful with every passing second.

He continued to map the First Folds as they crossed, RUIN/EDEN’s Architect’s Eye drinking in the impossible landscapes, adding them to his own, ever-expanding Atlas.

After another few minutes, after traversing a distance that would have taken lesser beings eons, they arrived.

Before them, nestled in a valley carved by a river of liquid starlight, was a grand, archaic citadel.

It was a city of impossible, breathtaking beauty, a place that seemed to have been sung into existence, not built.

Gilded golden walls, thosuands of miles high, rose to meet the swirling nebulae of the sky, their surfaces etched with the entire history of a proud and ancient people.

Within those walls, impossibly tall towers of white stone and gold filigree reached for the heavens, their spires so fine they seemed to blend into the starlight!

Hundreds of thousands of Early Creatures, their forms clad in robes of white and gold, moved about the city’s vast courtyards and terraces, their collective presence a low, powerful hum of ordered, ancient power.

|Location Identified: [Aethelgard – The Gilded Bastion of The First Leader].|

|Analysis: This appears to be the primary seat of power for the entity known as Gilgamesh in this era. A detailed scan has begun, but a terrifying power, far exceeding the Quadrillions, and the swirling, conflicting weavings of many active Principles, prevent an accurate analysis of all the entities of power and majesty here.|

|Threat Assessment: You have arrived in a region of unprecedented danger and possible opportunities. The highest possible gain from this situation is not escape, but information. A glimpse into how a true Civilization was progressing in the Earliest Folds.|

Noah and Elara were escorted through the great, golden gates of the city, their every move watched by the calm, ancient eyes of the Early Creatures who lined the streets.

Elsewhere.

Deeper into this domain, towards the very center, there was a massive, central structure, a palace of such scale and beauty that it seemed to be the heart of the city itself.

And there, hidden in the cool, silent shadows of a vast, pillared hall, three hooded figures were seated, gazing at each other with a calmness and serenity that was a stark, unnerving contrast to the immense power that radiated from the city around them.

They were three women, their faces obscured by the deep shadows of their hoods, and their stillness was a thing of profound, terrible power.

The hall was a place of quiet, profound power. It was not a throne room, not a court, but a simple, circular chamber at the heart of Aethelgard’s central palace.

There were no grand decorations, no displays of wealth. The walls were a smooth, seamless expanse of white stone that seemed to absorb all sound, creating a pocket of absolute, contemplative silence.

At the center of this room, seated on simple, unadorned stone benches, were the three hooded figures.

THE Weavers.

Their bronze robes were the only touch of color in the monochrome stillness, their faceless hoods a void that seemed to drink the very light of the hall!

The silence was broken by the arrival of a new presence. He did not enter through a door; he simply... arrived.

A being of such magnificent, terrible power that his very presence was a declaration of dominion!

This was Gilgamesh, The First Leader.

He was an emperor cast in the mold of a titan.

His visage was a masterpiece of primordial creation, his features sharp and noble, his eyes the color of molten gold, holding a wisdom and a cruelty that were eons old.

His long, golden hair was braided with threads of starlight, and he was adorned in a simple, elegant white chiton that did little to hide the raw, overwhelming power that radiated from his form.

He did not wear a crown, for he was the crown

He looked at the three silent, hooded figures, his expression not one of reverence, but of a king granting an audience to a trio of intriguing, if potentially dangerous, supplicants.

”You called for me?” he asked, his voice a deep, resonant baritone, the sound of a mountain giving a command.

THE Weavers, in their perfect, eerie unison, spoke.

Their three voices...one high and melodic, one low and resonant, one a dry, academic whisper...were a single, harmonious chord.

”The board is set, O King of Aethelgard. The pieces are moving.”

Gilgamesh’s golden eyes narrowed. He did not appreciate riddles, especially from beings who cloaked themselves in such deliberate mystery.

”The board is always set. The pieces are always moving. Existence is a game without end. Speak plainly, or do not speak at all.”

THE Weavers remained still, their faceless hoods a void of unreadable intent.

”A storm gathers on the horizon of this Fold,” their unison voice continued, its tone as calm and as inexorable as the turning of a galaxy. ”A storm of paradox and order, of law and chaos. A bloody war, born from the follies of you and your peers, will be descending upon the golden walls of Aethelgard.”

Gilgamesh’s expression did not change, but a new, dangerous light entered his golden eyes.

”A war? With whom? The Living Existences are a squabbling, divided people. Early Creatures and their tribes has all but submitted. They would not dare to march on my lands.”

”They will not march,” THE Weavers replied, their voices a chilling, prophetic whisper. ”They will be led. This time, it shall be a War between THE Living Existences and their hopes and dreams.”

BOOM!

The King of Aethelgard was silent for a long, heavy moment. He processed the cryptic words, his mind, a brilliant engine of strategy and ambition.

”When?” he finally asked, his voice a low, dangerous growl.

THE Weavers’ reply was a simple, terrible, and absolute verdict.

”Within the next day.”

WAA!