Noah turned Ryaenara's words over slowly, weighing them against the future and against plans that were already taking shape in the quieter parts of him.
Dimensions of Existence, scattered across time and across existence itself. The possibilities in that were vast, and the moment she had said the word time, something in him had flickered and turned its attention elsewhere, toward the body he kept in THE Infiniverse, beneath the great tree that rained its endless soft mana.
He had sent Barbatos away for a little while. She had understood, and left him to the illusory screens hanging in the cerulean light, each one showing a different corner of the war unfolding across THE Braneworld.
And things were picking up with rapidity across everything!
At this time.
WAP!
Space twisted and folded, and a figure stepped out of the distortion, ancient and young at once. Amser Modred, THE Living Temporal, arrived without ceremony, and Noah kept his eyes on the screens as he spoke.
