Chapter 3835: End His Beginning! IV
Golden waves pulsed within the Crucible of the Infiniverse.
Noah hovered still at its heart, arms outstretched, his golden robe billowing with the rhythm of the blue waves of infinity circling him.
Yet soon after, he moved no more.
His figure, so often alight with purpose...had gone quiet. Eyes that once gleamed with cunning calculation were dulled. Stone crept across his irises, consuming light as from his eyes- a process of calcification began!
...!
"Stop!" The Infiniverse Body’s voice rang like a bell tolling through endless space.
Every battle, every lattice within the Crucible came to an immediate halt.
Barbatos turned over in shock alongside many others, her eyes burning with dread.
"Little Fish!" shebellowed.
Others gathered close, drifting with worry, their voices urgent. Yet none dared approach as the Infiniverse Body began to shine. The brilliance of white gold lattices swelled around her, the very weavings of the Infiniverse bending!
She moved forward, slow and silent, until she stood alone before him.
His form still floated, unmoving. His robes were etched in the golden sigils of True Sources, the air around him laced with blue strands of infinite motion. The Infiniverse Body hovered inches away. Behind her, an illusory Wheel bloomed, vast and endless, its center bound to her very essence.
An instant later, light from every Frequency of Existence flowed into her like rivers into the sea.
She reached forward, her palms gently resting upon Noah’s stone-cold head.
"Master," she whispered, her voice softer than starlight. "I am here."
A golden hum answered her touch.
---
Elsewhere, within the vast caverns of the Living Origin Labyrinth, the soft glow of origin etched every wall. Noah and Sigrid had just bid farewell to Master Shen.
They turned, ready to move deeper into this wonder as the distribution of many Resistance Archetype Points was critical.
But moments later...Noah froze.
Sigrid noticed quickly how he stood rooted and unmoving. The light faded from his gaze.
"Noah?" she called, stepping in front of him.
His eyes, once alight with depth and calm, were fading. The white glow inside them began to spill outward, calcifying the edges of his vision.
Sigrid’s heart pounded as she saw into his eyes!
"Living Origin Authority...!" she murmured. Her breath heavy. "Why...would someone be attacking your Origin?!"
HUUM!
She moved close, her hands taking his cheeks. She brought her forehead to meet his. Her long strands of star-woven hair brushed his face like gentle waves.
Her Origin pulsed and began to gush out madly!
The tattoos across her arms and neck began to glow.
"Please," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Please don’t leave me. I don’t remember anything else. Not who I was. Not what I am. So please...don’t leave me."
As she spoke, the single bright rune on her forehead glowed like a small sun. That same rune, shining in a mirrored reflection, etched itself onto Noah’s brow.
"Don’t leave me," she whispered again!
---
And far away, in a quiet place untouched by the grandeur of Paradox, Origin, or the weight of Fold Dwellers, another Noah sat at a simple table.
A plate of food, half-finished.
A soft smile from across the table.
His mother, Amelia Osmont, had just been laughing, a rare light in her eyes. And then... silence.
She turned, her voice still caught in laughter, only to see his gaze fall away. His spoon slipped. His shoulders slumped. Stone crept over his eyes.
She was on her feet in a moment, her arms catching him before he could fall. She lowered him to her lap, cradling his head as she looked at him up and down, her existence buzzing!
"Noah?"
She called out...and there was no answer.
Only a sense of emptiness.
Tears did not yet come.
Only the terrible silence.
She cupped his cheeks, her voice heavy as her eyes shone with decisiveness!
"My refuge," she said, louder than before, "Come back to me."
HUUM!
And a pulse of white brilliance burst from her body, washing over him.
And so, across all the folds.
Across all the infinities of existence.
Everywhere his bodies rested, they were held.
Held by hands trembling or strong. Held by loyalty, by sorrow, by love.
Held as he turned to stone. Held as his purpose and beginning came under siege.
Held, while the fate of all that he was teetered on the edge of unraveling!
And as this attack from Origin Authority cascaded into all corners of Noah’s vast existence, tremors rang through every fragment of his identity.
From Ozymandias to the quietest fragment nestled in a far-off fold, every body he held in reality found itself bound, struggling, calcifying. Cradled by his mother, companions, and Foldless Ones alike, none could halt the dreadful crawl of the attack.
And yet, within the folds of his own soul, in the deepest halls of the self, something stirred.
Inside his Living Wheel of Existence- a domain beyond time, wrapped in endless spokes that shimmered with multicolored lights- a council gathered.
The spokes of the wheel were platforms of being, each one adorned with a seated figure. Each was Noah, but each was more.
They wore robes of different hues, each color whispering of the True Source that animated them. Their faces were the same, but their eyes were vastly different. And in the center of the Wheel, where light should have danced endlessly, the calcification had begun.
It crept in slow, deliberate turns, grey veins curling through the core, choking the radiance of purpose and of beginning. A chill in the heart of existence.
...!
A voice broke the silence.
|Your external influence is useless if it puts us in such perilous predicaments.|
A figure in a flowing robe of deep violet sat on one of the nearest spokes. His arms rested across the sides of his ornate chair as his glare burned through the center.
Tyranny. The Living True Source of Tyranny made his presence known with disdain sharpened like a blade. He did not look away from the golden-robed figure across the wheel.
|The path of the Protagonist is a perilous and a glorious one, overcoming something like this will only lead to greater glory.|
The Protagonist. Dressed in woven threads of gold spoke out, his voice grand. He did not flinch under Tyranny’s stare.
From another spoke came a scoff. A dark-haired Noah in loose silvery garb reclined lazily.
|Glory will be nice if we aren’t dead. Now, as much as we can chit chat in the span of an instant, what solution is there for standing against an attack from an entity arguably much more powerful than us?|
Cheats. His True Source whispered trickery and survival. His words were blunt, lacking poetry, and far more concerned with solutions than sentiment.
A hush settled. The spokes of the Wheel pulsed. Their glow dimmed slightly, as if even the authority of their sources bowed beneath the weight of the Origin’s hand.
Then, colorless light shimmered. From a spoke draped in pale hues, a figure stepped forward. The robe he wore bore no color, and yet shimmered with the hint of all.
Quintessence. The Living True Source that bound them all.
He stepped to the very edge of the gray spreading across the heart of the Wheel. His steps were quiet, but each echoed like chimes through the chamber of self.
His face was calm. Stern. His hands clasped behind his back, as his eyes watched the calcification.
The others looked to him.
He did not yet speak. But when he did, the Wheel itself leaned to listen!
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