Infinite Mana In The Apocalypse novel Chapter 4093

Chapter 4093: Oh, Shit II

"You are smart enough to recognize this?" the woman confirmed, swinging again.

Each motion of her hoe was planting and harvesting simultaneously. "You see, when you destroyed our home, you planted seeds of consequence. Now it’s harvest time."

Her hoe moved through patterns that suggested farming techniques applied to existence itself. Each swing stripped away layers of Duke Aquarius...not killing but reducing, simplifying, returning him to a more basic state.

"When I plant you and harvest you in the future," she explained as she worked, her tone remaining conversational despite the violence, "you’ll live a much more peaceful life. You won’t wantonly kill Fold Dwellers. You’ll understand that all life in existence is precious, whether it’s a Duke or a farmer on a tiny Wheel."

Duke Aquarius tried to resist, to reassert his authority, but how could water stand against the cycle of seasons? How could an element deny the principle that made things grow?

With a final swing, she reduced him completely. Where a Duke had stood, a small seed remained...a Living Elemental Seed that she picked up with the care of a gardener collecting tomorrow’s garden.

"Let’s go," she said to her brother. "Master sent us out of the Wandering Territories to check other things. This was just a detour. We still have our mission, and I don’t wish to be disciplined for tardiness."

Her brother rolled his eyes while placing a straw hat on his head with practiced motion. "Yeah, yeah, let’s go."

Bronze light of an unknown Principle enveloped them, and they vanished as if they had never been.

Seconds after their departure, space itself cracked with the force of arrivals.

Dozens of Duke-level auras materialized simultaneously. Dozens of Royal Living Elementals arrived with glory, crowns adorned on their heads.

Hundreds of Honored Living Elementals appeared in support formations!

The chamber filled with power that made reality groan.

They looked around as their eyes burned.

"Duke Aquarius has been killed!" Duke Tyrrhic of the Old Flame bellowed, his voice carrying disbelief that wanted to be rage. "Here! In the Tower of Infinite Depths! In the Heart of Elementals!"

The assembled Dukes stood in shocked solemnity. How had this happened? Under their very noses? In the Heart of Elementals itself, where their power was most concentrated?

Who was so daring? So powerful? So impossible?!

They asked, but Existence offered no answers, only the echo of bronze authority that suggested weavings they didn’t understand were being cultivated in places they’d never thought to look.

—

As tears silently opened across existence, as Dead Existences spread through Folds with the quiet certainty of infection, as Dukes fell to powers they hadn’t known existed...Noah finished his preparations in the Early Veiled Shore, literally counting minutes.

Minutes until the Glyphs of the Seed of the Principle of Perpetual Harvest reset. Minutes until he could again weaponize effort itself.

He gauged his newfound power with the assessment of someone who understood that overconfidence killed more beings than weakness ever could.

The 1% Resistance of Perpetual Harvest had fundamentally altered how reality interacted with him.

In simple terms: attacking him now required payment in effort that most beings couldn’t afford. A punch thrown at him demanded the effort of a hundred punches. A conceptual attack needed to overcome not just his defenses but the existence’s sudden insistence that harming him was exhaustingly difficult!

Offensively, the Principle amplified everything he did.

Each strike carried the weight of repeated strikes. Each technique executed with the perfection of having practiced it infinitely. The Goad in his hands wouldn’t just educate...it would provide entire curricula with a tap.

Paired with how effort itself was viewed by the Glyphs, his existence felt unfathomably grand!

Yet understanding his power level meant understanding its limits. All of this magnificence stemmed from a single percentage point of a Principle.

Ninety-nine percent remained unclaimed, each percentage potentially as transformative as the first.

As these thoughts crystallized, prompts suddenly blazed before his eyes.

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