I continued weaving, my distinction as an Anchor within me pulsing like the silent tide, my form seated amid the crumbling remnants of the Middle Wheel Platform.
Threads of existence weaved through my fingers- the 49th, 50th, and 51st Lattices of my Lineage clicking into place seamlessly.
My other Living True Sources stirred, following behind Lineage in steady escalation.
Quintessence. Death. Infinity. The Singed. Soul!
No miracles.
Just quintessence forged by sheer, unrelenting intent.
Around me, the Fold Dwellers surged towards the Living Collapse from all sides.
The attacks against the Living Collapse grew sharper, more coordinated. Solstice Veils, Time Elderkings, Primarchs of the Mannafolds all layered their might upon each other.
A celestial chorus of desperation and authority.
And yet…
The Living Collapse did not break.
Its Existential Health Stability ticked downward slowly.
| Living Collapse — 885,670 / 999,999 |
Progress. Measured in crumbs.
