Infinite Mana In The Apocalypse

Chapter 3769 Fold Dwellers II

The platform of the Middle Wheel stretched before us, broken and vast, a graveyard of forgotten dreams.

Votharion Mountain loomed in the distance, its shattered spires clawing at the heavy skies.

I moved.

Thauron moved.

Two currents winding silently through the ruins, the fragments of collapsed paradox vibrating softly underfoot as we passed.

Each of us gathered Sigil Fragments, the shimmering shards of some deeper authority, with fluid ease, our Null Forms drifting across the dead terrain like specters.

And as we moved, Thauron spoke.

Only I could hear him.

The others watched, Primarchs, Resplendent Monads, entities of renown, but they heard nothing. The space between us was soundless to them.

But not to me.

Never to me.

"There was once," Thauron began, his voice like the shifting of ancient stone, "an Existence."

His vast hand, clawed and unhurried, swept down to gather another fragment glowing faintly with the authority of time.

"A being not unlike the rulers you see here."

He gestured lightly, at the distant, curious gazes of those watching, at Kalysta, standing cautious and wary, and beyond her, at others scattered like careful sentries across the platform.

"Fold Dwellers."

His tone held no reverence.

"Those who dwell within the Nullvein Gravewake Folds. The powerful ones. The rulers of regions. Territories carved from paradox and collapse."

He glanced sideways toward me as we moved in perfect synchrony, two titans tracing forgotten lines across the Folds.

"You know of them, Stranger?"

I smiled faintly. "I know some of the names."

Thauron chuckled, low and dry.

"There are many. The Deathlight Folds, illuminating the paths of the Dead Things for a better life. Chronosect of Threadbound Folds," he murmured. "Tyrants of time. Those who believe history itself is a leash to be pulled tight."

He flicked his gaze to the side.

"The Veiled Sunfolds, hiding behind the splendor of dying stars, cloaked in veils of collapsed suns and burned-out skies."

Another chuckle.

"The Genefolds, where flesh and spirit are rewritten endlessly, evolution turned into an art of grotesque creation."

A soft, hollow smile.

"Powerful. Many of them, reigning with grandeur across the Folds."

Another fragment slid into his hand.

"But… not supreme."

HUUM!

His words held weight.

"Fold Dwellers," he continued, "are mighty. They hold dominion over the regions they inhabit. They are kings and queens of their broken corners of the Folds."

"But the Nullvein Gravewake Folds…"

Thauron's voice dipped lower.

"They are larger than any Fold Dweller."

Another step. Another fragment.

"Because there are those who move beyond the Fold Dwellers, who have been alive and dead far longer than them."

His tone shifted, reverent, almost wary.

"Those whose names are not spoken. Those whose existence is neither Living nor Dead."

I stilled internally.

Listening.

"They are not Fold Dwellers."

A pause.

"They are the Foldless Ones."

…!

The weight of the words was immense.

He had not said their name.

Because no name was given.

Only that title, whispered, unclaimed, untouched by oath or record.

"Lineages of Living Paradoxes," Thauron said softly. "They are not of Life. Nor Death. They are of Something Else."

I moved, another Sigil Fragment falling effortlessly into my grasp.

"And this Existence," Thauron continued, "this Prisoner…"

He spoke slowly, each word carved with deliberate weight.

"He was one who dwelled among the Fold Dwellers."

"A name. A being of might and legend."

"Fold Dwellers respected him."

"Feared him."

"The Chronosect marked his movements."

"Even the Livifolds whispered of him."

"Even the Genefolds twisted their creations with his shadow in mind."

Another pause as Thauron's vast Null Form shifted.

"But he was not content to rule his domain."

"He sought more."

"He sought the roots of the Folds."

"The foundation beneath collapse and possibility."

"And so… he journeyed deeper."

Deeper.

Where not even Fold Dwellers dared to tread.

"He delved into the depths of the Gravewake. He found a Key and opened doors."

"Into places where even memory refuses to follow."

"And there…"

Thauron's voice grew softer.

"There… he did something."

A fragment, ancient, seared with abyssal weavings, crumbled into dust between his fingers.

"Something he cannot remember. Something that was deemed wrong, something that crossed the rulings of the True Rulers of the Folds. And that is a grander sin than any paradox."

HUUM!

A long, heavy silence.

"The Foldless Ones," Thauron whispered, "do not forgive."

"They do not forget."

"They do not erase."

"They do not kill."

"They imprison."

Another step.

Another breath.

"They wove a prison not of stone, or iron, or bindings."

"A prison of existence itself."

"A cage within the Nullvein Gravewake Folds."

"A place where the Prisoner could be and not be."

"Where he could think and not think."

"Where he could remember only that which was permitted."

"Where he could exist… and forget why."

I plucked a fragment from the air, watching it spin, slow and heavy, the very notion of time slipping across its surface.

"And there," Thauron said, "he remained. For a long, long time."

"…"

My eyes squinted.

"How long?"

He shrugged, a great, tectonic shifting of his colossal form.

"Long enough for time to forget him."

"Long enough for even the Fold Dwellers to forget about him as his fable turned to myth. Long enough for him to forget himself."

A pause.

A breath.

"But myths are patient."

"And perhaps…"

Thauron's voice dropped even lower, a thread of thunder in the silence.

"Perhaps he found a way to loosen the chains of his prison. Or perhaps he served his time."

"Perhaps he walks the Gravewake once more. Freed, no longer a Prisoner… and yet his power is not where it was before. His memories are not where they are before. He does not even remember what he was jailed for… not entirely anyways."

…!

I moved silently, another fragment whispering into my grasp, the storm of paradox around me tightening, growing more intricate.

Kalysta, standing at a distance, watched us with silent trepidation, though she could not hear a word.

Neither could the others.

Only Thauron and I.

Only us.

The Prisoner.

Too unknown even to himself.

Dangerous and Paradoxical!

And likely…

The very one who now walked alongside me.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!