Chapter 4214: Weavings of Power! III

In the Transcendent Origin Folds.

The silence where Nysteria had been was a wound in the fabric of the battlefield, a pocket of absolute quiet that was somehow louder than the surrounding chaos.

The Living Origins, their collective will momentarily fractured by the impossible theft, were a tempest of suppressed fury!

Accusations, unspoken but potent, flew like poisoned arrows across the void, their primary target the impassive, smiling visages of the Living Paradoxes.

Duke Elagabalus, his form a shimmering contradiction of youth and antiquity, met their glares with a cold, weary arrogance.

Duke Diviticus, still radiating the borrowed might of the corpse she believed she controlled, looked ready to unleash her deathly authority at the slightest provocation!

But the arguments, the simmering resentments, the eons of bad blood...all of it had to wait. Because The Dead did not stop coming.

The Tears of Existence continued to weep their necrotic contents into the Fold, an endless tide of endings pouring into a reality that was struggling to simply be. The Living Existences were forced to turn from their infighting, their rage redirected toward the more immediate, all-consuming threat.

In the midst of this grand, chaotic weaving, Noah’s form remained a point of terrible stillness.

He watched the unfolding drama, but his mind was elsewhere. He was a bard who had just been handed a new, infinitely complex instrument, and the battlefield was his orchestra. He closed his eyes!

He felt the thrum of his new Heart, the raging furnace of Tyranny at the core of his being.

The Ascendran Nodule, the nascent Principle of Complexity, was a humming engine waiting for fuel, waiting for purpose.

He looked out at the swarming legions of The Dead, at the tears that scarred the heavens, and he began to explore the new language of his power.

His focus settled on a distant tear, from which a new horror was emerging. It was a being of pure, crystallized despair, its form a golem of jagged, black ice that radiated a cold so profound it seemed to freeze the very concept of hope.

Its power was immense, a wave of over 700 Trillion in Complexity!

A perfect test subject.

Noah’s will was the command.

He felt it, a conscious decision to draw upon the vast ocean of his own power. Trillions of Complexity and Purity, once a scattered sea across his existence, now answered the call of a singular master.

They flowed like rivers of starlight into his heart, into the humming engine of the Ascendran Nodule. The Nodule flared, a dazzling, internal supernova of pure, informational light. It activated the first of his new tools!

The Crucible of Tyranny.

Imposition!

HUUM!

His will was a whisper and a roar.

A Weave of his new Artifice.

Above the ice golem, a spectral, bloody purple throne materialized from nothing. It was not a physical object, but the concept of his authority given form, a declaration that in this space, his rule was absolute!

The throne descended, and its mere presence was a weight that made the golem’s 700 Trillion Complexity groan.

|Weave of Imposition activated. The target’s existential parameters are being forcibly rewritten.|

|Your authority is now a law in this immediate vicinity.|

|Target’s resistance is... considerable, but ultimately, irrelevant.|

The golem roared, a sound of shattering glaciers, and raised its massive arms to strike at the conceptual throne. But Noah was already weaving the second part of the spell.

Dominion, he commanded. From the base of the spectral throne, ethereal chains of the same bloody purple light shot down, wrapping around the golem’s limbs.

These were not chains of matter, but of will. They did not restrain its body; they seized its very authority, its will to fight, its right to exist in opposition to him!

WU! WU!

|Weave of Dominion activated. The target’s authority is being siphoned, its will subjugated.|

|You are pulling its strength, its very essence, toward yourself.|

|Its power is now a resource for you to command or discard.|

The golem froze, its attack faltering. The Weave of Imposition crushed it from above, while the Weave of Dominion hollowed it out from within!

It was a perfect, inescapable trap. The creature looked up, and in its eyes of frozen despair, Noah saw a flicker of something new: dawning, absolute terror.

With a final, silent command of his will, Noah clenched his fist. The throne smashed down. The chains constricted. The 700 Trillion Complexity Dead Existence shattered into a billion pieces of black, glittering dust, its authority, its very being, unmade as all that remained was taken to his Shore!

|Tremendous effort has been exerted and recognized. [The Principle of Perpetual Harvest] applauds your tyrannical artistry.|

|Harvest Yield for utilization of the Existential Artifice, The Weavings of Power: +50 Trillion Complexity and Purity.|

...!

The power flowed back into him, a warm tide that not only replenished what he had spent but amplified it.

His eyes, burning with the purple fire of his Haki, turned to his next subject.

It was a creature of shifting, ethereal shadow, a being that seemed to exist in the spaces between moments, its complexity a fluctuating wave of around 800 Trillion.

This time, he reached for a different Crucible!

The Crucible of Infinity.

Expansion, he wove. He raised his hand and flicked a single, infinitesimal speck of his Haki toward the shadow creature.

As the speck traveled, it multiplied. One became a thousand, a thousand became a million, a million became a billion.

In the space of a heartbeat, a storm of a billion identical purple flames descended upon the creature, each one a perfect copy of his own authority, a relentless, all-encompassing assault.

The shadow creature shrieked, its form flickering as it tried to phase out of existence, but the storm was everywhere at once. It was being hit in the past, the present, and the future simultaneously.

Then came the second Weave.

Compression!

Noah opened his hand, and at the center of the fiery storm, a point of absolute nothingness appeared.

It was not a black hole; it was the concept of compression itself, a command for the vast to become small.

The storm of a billion flames, and the 800 Trillion Complexity creature caught within it, were pulled inward.

Space, time, and authority were crushed into a singularity the size of a marble, which then winked out of existence with a final, silent pop!

POP!

...!

Oh!

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