Infinite Mana In The Apocalypse novel Chapter 3694

What brings you all to our home?

He asked it plainly- at a moment soaked in tension, when most would've struggled to breathe, let alone speak. _{frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓}

But Noah, even with the storm of destruction and chaos looming over them all, stood there- fearless and unshaken, as if making small talk over the weavings of existence

Far ahead, just beyond a row of fourteen Dead Things, Veltraxis, the Smiling Empty Maw, turned his attention from the ashen horizon and grinned. Edge to edge. That smile deepened as he looked between Noah and the holder of the True Source of Asche.

And then, he spoke.

"If you were any other Harmonized Sourcebound Icon, I might've glanced at that Resplendent Monad standing beside you and asked why he let something so fragile speak for him. But since you are directly responsible for our arrival here... I'll indulge your disrespectful little question. It was you."

…!

It was him?

Noah blinked, disbelieving.

What the fuck did he mean it was him?

The Great Beyonder's gaze sharpened, her eyes narrowing as Veltraxis's grin widened further—so wide now it seemed his entire face was a smile carved into dead flesh.

He lifted a dead hand, motioning to the side—toward the only Harmonized Sourcebound Icon among his monstrous entourage.

"This one here saw you. In your Gateway. From a distance. He witnessed you ignite a white-gold flame that could actually empower and fortify other True Sources."

…!

"You see... the alteration of any True Source, whether it's one's own or someone else's, is nearly impossible. When it does occur, it's the result of something… singular. A presence standing beyond conventional power. Something tied to a special kind of Wheel of Existence. That's why I came. To confirm whether what you wield is that kind of Wheel. In truth… us being here? It's your fault. Your existence, the uniqueness of it, called us. Isn't it beautiful?"

HUUM!

Heavy words.

But the words weren't admiration.

They were psychotic, laced with manic glee—spoken by something that didn't just want to watch the existence burn, but wanted to dance in the ashes.

Noah's gaze sharpened, glowing brighter with each breath.

They came because of him?

Because of the Singed?

He wanted to call it bullshit, but…at the same time, looking at his long history, was he actually the thing that invited apocalypses, catastrophes, and destruction?

"..."

Before he could speak, another voice rose- ancient, amused, and unmistakably alive.

"Oh, come on. A white-gold flame that empowers True Sources? Is that all it takes to make Dead Things giddy these days?"

…!

The voice of the Holder of the True Source of Asche echoed like a song from the grave- timeless and unbothered, even here, in the maw of chaos.

A slow smile tugged at his ageless face.

Veltraxis turned toward the Sea of Ash, answering curtly.

"These days? Everything makes Dead Things jumpy. Every day, we inch closer to True Death.

I am the 77th Mawbearer of Recursive Hunger—part of the Concord of Hollow Nullity...

There are others like us…Dead Things searching for the same answer. For the same thing. Even Living Things clawing to stop the Last Breaking of their Wheels are looking for it. Tell me… can you blame our desperation?"

WAA!

He dropped words that could unhinge a Harmonized Sourcebound Icon.

The 77th Mawbearer?

That meant there were at least seventy-six more like him.

And more, if the number wasn't symbolic.

The Concord of Hollow Nullity wasn't alone.

There were other factions of Dead Things like it.

Other nightmares moving across existence like cancer through stars.

And...

"Fucking hell…"

Noah cursed aloud, his eyes burning with tyranny as his thoughts snapped into focus.

These monsters could not be allowed to leave.

Not one.

Somehow, some way—they all had to die.

A grotesque creature made entirely of sleek, writhing worms—each one twitching in unison, like a hive that wore a corpse as armor.

A ripple of recognition passed through Noah's eyes as the distinction of the Weaver of Existence worked freely.

"M'gorrhaal, The Crawling Colossus. Holder of the Dead True Source of Infestation."

…!

"Think you can handle someone as tiny as me?"

Noah's voice dripped with majesty now, each syllable stabbing at the pride of the Dead Things across from him.

M'gorrhaal trembled.

Not in fear, but in hunger—barely holding himself back.

And then, Veltraxis raised a hand—silent and fluid—and gave the command.

Go.

The Crawling Colossus moved.

Towering. Slouching. Writhing.

The battlefield shifted with each thunderous step.

A 1 v 1.

A Harmonized Sourcebound Icon versus a Converged Architect.

On paper, the result should've been clear.

But none of them—not even Veltraxis—understood what Noah held.

In his hand wasn't just a True Source.

It was a Spoke.

A fragment of a Wheel.

A weight of existence itself.

And now, the outcome?

Was unknown.