Infinite Mana In The Apocalypse novel Chapter 4331

Chapter 4331: MANA! III

Noah’s declaration was a quiet thunderclap in the dead air, a promise of violence that made the very fabric of Collapse hold its breath!

He was coming!

Tatiana watched him, her obsidian-gold eye a swirling vortex of analytical fury. She saw the six spectral manifestations of his power, the arrogant calm on his face, and she prepared. The obsidian flames of her Principle, the Waking Dream, danced around her, a corona of pure, absolute power.

Then, he began!

It was not a charge, not a grand, sweeping attack. It was a storm. A relentless, unending, and utterly tyrannical artillery barrage of pure, conceptual destruction.

"Fireball."

The word was a whisper, a soft, almost gentle, murmur.

And from the roiling sea of his Mana, a single, perfect sphere of crimson-blue fire bloomed into existence.

It was a thing of terrible, beautiful power, a miniature sun fold born for the sole purpose of annihilation. It streaked across the void, and Tatiana met it!

BOOM!

She did not raise a shield; she simply wove a dream. A flicker of her authority, a whisper of her Principle, and a perfect, identical copy of the fireball appeared before her, smashing into the real one in a silent, contained detonation.

She smiled. A simple, elegant counter. But as the light of the first explosion faded, another was already there.

"Fireball."

And another. And another.

"Fireball. Fireball. Fireball. Fireball."

He did not shout. He did not roar!

His voice was a calm, steady, and unending metronome of death. With every whispered word, another sun fold was born, another bolt of 5-Quintillion-damage power streaking towards her.

She wove dream after dream, her own vast authority a wellspring of counter-spells. A wall of dreamt ice. A mirror of imagined realities. An afterimage of herself that absorbed the blow.

But he was relentless. It was a storm of a thousand suns, a blizzard of annihilation.

For every dream she wove, he had a fire to burn it. Her calm, analytical facade began to crack. A flicker of genuine, profound annoyance entered her eyes. This was not a battle of skill; it was a battle of attrition, and his reserves, impossibly, seemed to be... infinite.

The space between them became a canvas of glorious, terrible chaos. Explosions of crimson and blue painted the dark void, each detonation a silent, beautiful flower of pure, unadulterated power.

The very fabric of Collapse began to fray at the edges, the sheer, overwhelming energy of their duel too much for even this realm of endings to bear.

Tatiana’s advance had not just been stopped; it had been turned into a desperate, stationary defense!

She!

Who was more powerful!

She gritted her teeth, the sound a silent grinding of primordial power.

"Enough!"

WAA!

She raised her hand, and from the aether, a shimmering, conceptual Grimoire, her own Living Astral Codex, materialized.

It opened, and from its pages, a single, terrible card of light flew into her hand. It depicted a skeletal devil, its wings woven from solidified screams, its eyes hollow pits of absolute, final sorrow.

"You have shown me your little fireworks, Child," she hissed, her voice a low, venomous promise.

"Now, let me show you a true dream of endings." She raised the card glyph high, her voice a booming, terrible incantation that seemed to shake the very foundations of the Fold.

"Let the Dream of Cessation Bloom...Final Verse: The Ashen Requiem!"

HUUM!

The card dissolved into a wave of pure, necrotic authority. The skeletal devil from the Glyph materialized behind her, but it was no longer a mere image!

It was a being of 15 Quintillion in Complexity, its form a colossus of bone and despair that dwarfed even Noah’s spectral guardians. It opened its mouth, and it began to sing.

HUUM!

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