The Guardian gods-Chapter 791

Ikenga was the last to arrive. His siblings were already positioned on their massive thrones, their auras filling the hall with the weight of fundamental laws.

As he stepped toward his seat, Mahu watched him emerge from the direction of Keles’s realm. She raised a brow, before calmly looking away to focus on the center of the hall.

"You have kept us waiting, brother," Crepuscular noted.

"I had a few matters to deal with," Ikenga replied, smoothing out his expression as he settled into his throne. Then, the sheepish smile he had been trying to suppress broke through. "Also, it pleases me to tell you all, my brothers and sisters, that the child I share with Keles is expected anytime now."

The atmosphere in the hall shifted instantly. The formal air of a divine council evaporated, replaced by the resonant power of the Origin Gods offering their favor.

Jaus leaned forward, his voice cutting through the celebratory murmurs. "If you don’t mind, brother, I would like to be present when Keles goes into labor. This is something I wouldn’t want to miss, this will be our world’s first-born True God."

Crepuscular’s eyes flashed with a sudden, deep interest. The birth of a being born of two Origins was a never seen before phenomenon. "It must be a sight to behold, brother," he added, his voice resonant. "We would all like to be part of such a moment."

Ikenga, still feeling the lingering warmth of his son’s voice in his mind, turned to the veiled queen beside him. "That would be for Keles to decide. I have no issue with our family bearing witness."

Keles, however, ignored the brothers entirely. Her gaze pierced through her veil, landing squarely on Mahu, who had remained uncharacteristically silent amidst the chatter.

"Sister," Keles spoke, her voice steady and grounding. "If you don’t mind... I would like you beside me during this child’s birth."

Mahu met Keles’s gaze. A soft, knowing understanding passed between them. "If you would have me, I see no reason to refuse, sister," Mahu replied. "It is my duty to you not just as your sibling, but as the Goddess of Motherhood."

The air suddenly grew warmer, smelling of summer heat and ozone. Crepuscular let out a boisterous laugh, his golden hair sparking like living flames against the backdrop of the realm.

"Since we are on this topic," he said, his radiant smile practically glowing, "I would like to share some good news as well."

The hall fell silent as the others turned to him. Crepuscular beamed with pride. "Xerosis is with my child."

The news hit the room like a burst of light. Keles, hearing that her own daughter was now carrying the next generation, could not suppress the joy radiating from her essence. Even through the veil, the sudden change in her aura from cold shadows to vibrant, maternal pride was unmistakable.

Nana, the mother of them all, watched her children with a gaze of pure love. She couldn’t help the smile that graced her face.

She stood from her seat and pulled Crepuscular into a firm, grounding hug. "Congratulations, son," she whispered, her voice carrying the pride of a grandmother-to-be.

Jaus broke the silence with a final, lighthearted grin. "It seems our small pantheon is growing well," he remarked, though privately, the sight of his brothers’ happiness stirred a new thought: perhaps it was time he found a woman of his own to share in this expanding legacy.

But as the laughter faded, a cold aura settled over the council. The time of celebration was over and now the time of governance had returned.

Jaus fixed his gaze on Ikenga and Keles. "We know how restless you both can be. How much have you learned of what transpired in this world while you were away during our small rest?"

"A lot," Keles answered, "But knowledge is a matter of perspective. We wish to see it through your eyes. You all see the hidden thread of this world and hear the whispers of the wind far better than the most ever could."

"True enough," Jaus conceded.

Jaus closed his eyes, and like a chain reaction, the other Origin Gods followed suit. A hum of pure, raw energy filled the hall as a Memory Link manifested, a psychic bridge connecting the minds of the pantheon.

In an instant, years of history were compressed into heartbeats. Ikenga and Keles bore witness to the shifting of borders, the rise of new gods, and the subtle rot of corruption that had festered in the shadows of the Nwadiebube and Osita kingdoms. They felt the prayers, the changes, and the quiet evolution of the world’s magical essence.

Simultaneously, Ikenga and Keles pushed their own experiences back through the link. The other gods were suddenly thrust into the cold, terrifying expanse of the journey Ikenga had taken. They felt the weight of Zarvok’s presence, the struggle for the Universal Translation, the key to the cosmos and the sheer mental toll of navigating realms beyond the reach of their own sun. For the gods experiencing this, it wasn’t just a story, it was a sensory overload, as if they were reliving every second of the perilous trek themselves.

When their eyes finally snapped open in unison, the air in the room had changed. The confusion and gaps in their knowledge were gone, replaced by a crystalline, shared understanding of the past, present, and the dangerous potential of the future.

Every brow was furrowed. The silence that followed was heavy, as each god took time to digest the implications of what they had just seen.

Ikenga addressed the assembly, his voice resonating through the void like chamber. "You have all witnessed my recent actions since my return, and now, having peered into my memories, what are your thoughts?"

"Extermination of the human race," Crepuscular replied, his voice cold and absolute.

Nana shot them a sharp glare, her brow furrowing in instant defiance, yet she remained silent. She understood that the gravity of this deliberation had transcended her right to intervene.

Across the circle, the other gods remained motionless. Not a single expression shifted; not a soul offered a word of dissent. The revelation found within Keles and Ikenga’s memories regarding the "First-Born Child of the World" had cast a long, unforgiving shadow.

If the humans held this sacred status, the consensus was clear: they were unworthy of the title. It was not merely that they did not deserve the honor, it was that they were fundamentally untrustworthy, inherently fragile, and far too easily swayed by the lure of petty, fleeting benefits.

Ikenga nodded slowly, acknowledging the silent verdict. "I arrived at the same conclusion when I first unearthed the truth of that term. But I have since realized the flaws in such a radical path, not least the staggering amount of time it would take for our world to recuperate from such a cataclysm, or the sheer impossibility of selecting a suitable successor to the mantle."

His expression hardened, his tone dropping. "If our world continues on this trajectory, it will not just be the humans who fail us. Even the godlings, our own creations will eventually pose the same existential danger to this world as the humans do."

"Hence why I propose my radical action," Ikenga said.

The chamber plunged into a suffocating silence, the air heavy with the weight of his suggestion. Jaus was the first to break the stillness, his voice measured but laced with caution. "Your proposal is bold, brother, but the cost to our world would be ruinous. It is too great a price to pay."

"We are still here, Jaus," Ikenga countered, his gaze unwavering.

"We are, and that is exactly why we need not resort to such extremes," Jaus argued, his expression tightening. "As long as we remain present, we hold the balance of power."

Mahu shook her head slowly, a grim smile touching her lips. "You do not seem to understand, brother. Based on everything we have witnessed, the coming battle will not be decided by us. We are not the masters of this conflict, we are the last stand."

She turned toward the others, her eyes searching theirs. "You speak as if we could simply exert our will whenever the War of Worlds arrives. If we intervened so clumsily, we would gain nothing. Look at Keles and Ikenga; they stayed low, played the long game, and ultimately returned with victory."

Mahu gestured toward the two of them. "Do you truly believe they could not have brought a swift end to the invaded world, much like what you seem to be proposing now, Jaus? If they had chosen that path, they would have rendered the entire purpose of the War of Worlds meaningless."

"It was not just them, brother," Mahu continued, her voice sharp. "The mages they fought could have easily brought an end to their world, but none dared. They understood that the war exists precisely because there is more to be gained from a world kept intact, the value of the conquest far outweighs the sacrifices required to claim it."