Chapter 4412: Never Meet Your Heroes I

In another direction across the Transcendent Quantum Folds, a singular figure stood suspended in void-like space.

Khor floated with perfect stillness, her diminutive form surrounded by profound sense of Hunger that wanted to claim absolutely everything within perception’s reach.

The appetite radiating from her wasn’t mere desire...it was a force that recognized no satisfaction because satisfaction would mean cessation of growth.

Her crimson eyes remained half-closed as she repeated sacred words to herself, voice emerging barely above a whisper.

"Hunger is the fundamental acknowledgment of incompleteness. We hunger because we recognize we are not yet whole..."

Her form pulsed with obsidian-crimson radiance.

"Hunger must remain carefree in its pursuit. To hunger with desperation corrupts the purity of desire."

The space around her darkened further, as if reality itself was being consumed by proximity to her essence.

"True Hunger establishes natural hierarchy. Leadership flows toward the hungriest as naturally as water flows downhill."

She continued through all Nine Doctrines, each recitation reinforcing her existence’s fundamental nature...reminding herself of immensity accumulated across eons, anchoring consciousness against recent events of confronting THE Living Paradox and witnessing her people’s suffering.

The repetition served dual purpose- meditation and preparing mind and essence for what observation was revealing.

Before her stretched something that should not exist in accessible space...a Unique Doorway to THE Loom itself, manifested as domain hidden across different dimensions of existence simultaneously.

This felt like something only extremely powerful Living Dimensionals would be capable of creating.

Just to traverse the different layers of Dimensional Existence required to reach this point, one needed prerequisite of 1 Quintillion Complexity and Purity minimum.

As for the domain itself...

What Khor observed made her ancient composure pulse and tested.

A grand and sleek Citadel stretched before her perception—architecture and structures that were simultaneously weapons and works of art.

Tall silver buildings rose, their surfaces catching light that didn’t originate from any visible source.

A few hundred Living Existential Armors- Justiciars, were stationed throughout the Citadel.

The Citadel itself connected to something far more disturbing...a manifestation of massive wall that stretched beyond visual limits in both directions. And fused to that wall...

Millions upon millions of Mutated Inevitabilities.

Khor’s hands clenched involuntarily as she witnessed her people...or what remained of them after whatever corruption had been inflicted, trapped within the wall’s substance.

Their bodies pulsed with synchronized rhythm of hunger and pain, tentacles writhing in patterns suggesting perpetual agony.

They seemed to be devouring surrounding atmosphere continuously, consuming existence itself and feeding that stolen essence into the wall they had been merged with.

It was perpetual motion engine of suffering...exactly as THE Living Paradox had described in mocking tones during their confrontation.

Her people reduced to fuel sources, their fundamental nature corrupted and weaponized against them.

Khor looked at this reality with rage contained only by iron discipline accumulated across eons, repeating Doctrines of Hunger in her heart like mantras against descending into mindless fury.

She tracked the Justiciar she had followed from the battlefield, the entity that had fled later after THE Living Paradox manifested, watching as it approached the strongest presence within the Citadel.

That central figure radiated authority reaching 10 Quintillion in Purity.

The approaching Justiciar’s grand armor, sleek white construction incorporating sharp white wings that folded against its back like blades awaiting deployment, opened.

Plates separated along seams invisible until activation, revealing the pilot within.

A female Living Emotive gazed outward with expression mixing exhaustion and urgency.

Her features held delicate beauty that seemed incongruous, her humanoid face framed by silver-white hair that moved as if suspended in water despite no visible current.

Around her, other Justiciars stood with helms removed, revealing additional Living Emotives of various appearances...all humanoid, all carrying exceeding beauty.

The 10 Quintillion Purity Living Emotive, clearly the commanding presence here, turned his attention toward the newly arrived figure.

His armor remained sealed, but his voice emerged with perfect clarity nonetheless.

"Aileen, what manner of nonsense information did you transmit? Your report claimed THE Living Paradox made personal appearance outside THE Loom’s boundaries? Such occurrence would defy all established protocols."

Aileen shook her head with gesture mixing frustration and conviction, meeting her leader’s unseen gaze without flinching.

"Sir Qanan, I anticipated skepticism, but circumstances demand belief despite improbability. The Will of THE Living Paradox genuinely descended, manifesting through the corpse of a deceased Living Paradox. And it was opposed by an entity possessing terrifying power...possibly exceeding even your capabilities, Sir."

She paused, ensuring her words registered fully.

"I experienced profound sense of suffocation merely from proximity to this being. I couldn’t discern much of their discourse due to overwhelming pressure, but there was explicit mention of Khor, The First Hunger herself. As if she was present, as if she had somehow returned from collapse that should have been absolute."

...!

The surrounding Living Emotives exchanged glances mixing disbelief.

Such claims bordered on impossible, yet Aileen’s demeanor showed genuine conviction rather than delusion or exaggeration.

Sir Qanan’s presence seemed to intensify, authority pressing outward as he processed implications.

"Anything remains possible within existence’s infinite permutations, but I harbor substantial doubt that an entity as monumentally significant as THE Living Paradox would bother dispatching even fractional portion of his consciousness outside. We should represent the strongest existences operating in external territories of THE Loom unless multiple Civilizations began manifesting independently within the Wandering Territories."

His tone shifted, carrying challenge mixed with curiosity.

"This entity you perceived as potentially superior to myself... we shall see. If such being truly exists, eventual confrontation becomes inevitable given our operational parameters."

As he spoke, Sir Qanan turned to gaze at the massive wall behind him...that terrible structure incorporating millions of suffering Inevitabilities.

On its outline, barely perceptible unless one knew where to look, a faint doorway could be seen.

A conceptual threshold, a gateway between domains operating under fundamentally different rules.

"We will continue executing The Will of THE Living Emotive here without deviation," Sir Qanan declared.

"Upon completion of our assigned task, we shall be blessed with entry into THE Loom itself, rejoining our Civilization and receiving rewards commensurate with service rendered. Since the appointed time approaches with increasing proximity, we cannot afford errors or hesitation. We will proceed with utmost caution and not slip up."

HUUM!

The surrounding Living Emotives nodded in synchronized agreement, expressions showing dedication mixed with anticipation of promised rewards.

They possessed no awareness that at this precise moment, in the distance beyond their perception’s comfortable reach, ancient eyes blazing with crimson fire of Hunger were observing them with a gaze carrying immeasurable coldness.

Khor watched the Justiciars and the pained Mutated Inevitabilities fused to that terrible wall, and in her heart, judgment had already been rendered absolute.

But she was now calm. She knew what had to be done.

She reached out to the man who made it possible for her to even be here to potentially recrify the wrongs being done to Inevitabilities!

—

Far within the Wandering Territories, a different scene was unfolding with its own weight and consequence.

Noah sat in the center of large plot where radiant golden tree extended upward with impossible vitality, its leaves shining like miniature stellar bodies...each one a sun in compressed form, radiating warmth.

He and several others he had brought into the Sanctuary of The First Farmer had spent the past subjective day observing accumulated accomplishments...witnessing what The First Farmer had built, what Civilization he had attempted to forge.

Attempted.

The word carried weight of unfulfilled potential, of dreams interrupted before reaching fruition.

At this time, behind Noah’s seated figure, another presence descended through air with grace.

Elyndra floated downward with movements resembling falling leaf.

Her gorgeous figure remained ridiculously beautiful.

Golden hair cascaded past her shoulders in waves. Blue eyes, color of deep ocean, held depths of intelligence mixed with carefully concealed conflict.

She wore green dress at this moment, garment that appeared woven from living plants rather than simple fabric, leaves and vines arranged into elegant patterns that moved with her breathing.

She descended until floating beside Noah’s position.

"Friend that is not quite friend, we have completed preparations. We are positioned to depart and bring the accumulated boons of the Sanctuary to your home domain. Together...our combined forces will halt the advancement of The Dead into the Lands of The Living. Your power and the remnants of my Father’s work...we will be able to get much done."

She spoke with confidence that seemed rehearsed, as if convincing herself alongside him.

Noah turned toward her, thoughts dwelling on his own developing Civilization and contemplating what exactly should be done with the Sanctuary of The First Farmer.

He looked at Elyndra’s figure, and in this moment, he consciously activated The Lens of Civilization with focused intent.

The moment perception shifted, prompts bloomed before his vision with revelatory clarity.

|LENS OF CIVILIZATION - INNER TRUTH ANALYSIS|

|SUBJECT: Elyndra, Daughter of The First Farmer|

|SURFACE EMOTION: Confidence mixed with anticipation of departure|

|DEEPER CONFLICT: Profound uncertainty regarding father’s commands to cultivate relationship with you and reclaim Perpetual Harvest|

|CORE BELIEF: Father is wrongly convinced this Principle represents key to achieving THE distinction, even if it is true...is this really the way to go about it?|

|HIDDEN THOUGHT: "Collaboration is the answer to building Civilization. Father may have lost his Way the day THE Living Emotive collapsed his dreams. I envision what Civilization of Farming could become if freed from obsession with single Principle. But what can I do? I am dutiful daughter. I am loyal extension of his will. Yet I wonder... I wonder..."

|DEEPEST TRUTH: Conflict between filial obligation and emerging independent philosophy regarding Civilization’s true requirements|

...!

Noah saw her complete inner landscape laid bare, understanding flooding his consciousness with clarity!

His eyes flashed sharply, but his external gaze remained unchanged...calm, analytical, revealing nothing of sudden insight.

He rose to his feet with fluid motion, voice emerging with a casual tone that belied significance of his words.

"I will visit your Father before we depart."

HUUM!

Elyndra blinked in confusion, caught off-guard by unexpected declaration.

"Oh? Certainly, but.."

Before she could complete her sentence, Noah took single step and disappeared, the area he was just on showing swirling leaves of brilliance.

Elyndra remained alone in region saturated with scent of harvest and agricultural abundance, surrounded by products of her Father’s obsessive cultivation.

Yet despite being immersed in plenty, her existence seemed to shine with profound sense of desolation.

She sighed deeply, arms wrapping around herself in unconscious gesture of self-comfort, and her gaze continued carrying that terrible conflict...duty warring against emerging conviction that perhaps Father’s path had diverged from wisdom into obsession.

The golden tree above her continued radiating warmth, indifferent to the turmoil of the small figure standing in its shadow.

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