Infinite Mana In The Apocalypse novel Chapter 4313

Chapter 4313: We Follow His Will! II

The Veil...that junction separating the living and the dead, a concept as old as consciousness itself!

A line drawn in the sands of existence that different cultures interpreted according to their preferred level of existential comfort.

For some, it was mere metaphor, a poetic way to describe the boundary between known and unknowable. These were the people who slept soundly at night, who thought death was just another transition, who used phrases like "passed on" and "in a better place" without their voice catching.

They saw The Veil as natural order, no more threatening than the horizon...a line that existed but didn’t really matter since you’d cross it when you crossed it.

For others, it was a point of connection, a sacred threshold to mystical realms.

They built altars, left offerings, spoke to ancestors they insisted were "just beyond The Veil," listening and occasionally intervening.

These people found comfort in proximity, in the idea that death was just a very thin wall between neighbors who could still hear each other if they spoke loudly enough.

And then there were those who saw it for what it truly was: a fragile, fraying curtain between their ordered reality and a hungry, absolute dark. A taboo. A danger!

These were the ones who understood that some doors were closed for a reason, that some boundaries existed not to be crossed but to keep things separated that should never, ever meet.

As for which group was correct?

It turns out, the ones with the most anxiety, the ones who saw monsters in every shadow, were the most right.

Because The Veil wasn’t just a boundary. It was a containment system.

Think about it: if death was natural and peaceful, why did everything living spend so much energy avoiding it? If what was beyond The Veil was benign, why did crossing it only work in one direction? If the dead were really resting peacefully, why did every form of life have stories about what happened when they didn’t?

The optimists said The Veil was there to give life meaning through finitude. The mystics said it was there to separate stages of spiritual evolution. But the pessimists...oh, the pessimists understood!

The Veil was there because without it, The Dead would consume The Living like a tide dissolving sandcastles.

Not from malice. Not from evil. But from the simple fact that entropy was hungry, and order was delicious.

The Dead didn’t hate The Living any more than winter hated summer.

They simply were, and their very existence was antithetical to the careful arrangements of atoms and energy that The Living called "life."

Put them in the same space without separation, and The Living would cease while The Dead would simply continue, slightly more substantial for having absorbed what they touched.

This was why The Veil mattered.

Not as metaphor, not as mystical gateway, but as Existence’s desperate attempt to keep its experiment in consciousness from being reabsorbed into the hungry dark it had emerged from!

In the current moment, as tears multiplied across Folds and The Dead emerged with complexities that mocked the power scales The Living had so carefully constructed, the truth became apparent.

The Veil hadn’t been philosophy or poetry.

And now it was thinning. Not failing...that would be too simple. Thinning, like fabric worn down by too much use, too much pressure from both sides, too many attempts to peek through or poke across.

The optimists were revising their positions, suddenly finding merit in barriers they’d previously called "artificial constructs of fear."

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