The Guardian gods-Chapter 792

Ikenga stepped into the silence, his presence commanding the focus of the room. "In a conflict between two worlds, the objective is not mere annihilation. The goal is for the victor to absorb the origin and the very core of the defeated world, integrating it into their own to expand their foundations and transcend their current limitations."

He turned his gaze toward Jaus, his expression unreadable. "We have reached the absolute limit of the power our current world can sustain, hence the current slow growth. A victory in the War of Worlds would shatter that ceiling, allowing us to grow faster and more. But none of that growth is possible if the world we conquer is reduced to ash, which is exactly what would happen if you were to force your hand, brother."

Ikenga leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low resonance. "Such a war cannot be fought by us directly, Jaus. If we intervene, we forfeit the prize. If we destroy the foundation in our haste to win, we are left with nothing but a graveyard."

Jaus listened, his jaw tight. He closed his eyes for a long moment, the silence in the chamber stretching thin before he spoke, his tone cold "I understand the mechanics of this coming war, but I spoke as I did because your proposal treats our children as expendable pawns. Their livelihoods are at stake."

A heavy, suffocating silence descended, only to be cut through by Crepuscular. "They are already at stake, Jaus," he said, his voice devoid of warmth. "They would be involved regardless, thanks to the machinations Murmur has set in motion. I stand with Ikenga. If suffering is inevitable, I would rather it come from our own hands than be dictated by our enemy."

Ikenga glanced at Crepuscular, a silent acknowledgement passing between them. It was clear he was not the only one who recognized the looming shadow of Murmur’s ambition.

"If the human gods begin to appear as Murmur intends," Ikenga continued, turning back to Jaus, "our children, the ascended gods will be the first to fall. These human-born deities will rise with terrifying speed, fueled by the sheer, overwhelming tides of faith their kin will shower upon them."

He leaned closer, painting the bleak reality for his brother. "The coming conflict will reach a scale where we cannot simply intervene. By the time we attempt to step in, our children will be crushed beneath the weight of those human gods."

Ikenga’s expression softened, "My proposal ensures that our children’s strength grows in lockstep with the human population. We are not discarding them, instead we are forging a connection that will withstand what is to come. If we act now, the bonds they will build with the humans will be too deeply rooted to be shaken by the ascent of these new, ascended human gods."

"My proposal may seem wicked, even monstrous," Ikenga admitted, his gaze scanning the circle. "But brother, consider this: if we were to face a civilization as ruthless as the goblins, how do you think the powerhouses of our world would truly fare as we are now?"

"This world of ours requires a cleansing in blood. The lifeforms that inhabit it have forgotten how fragile they are; they have grown complacent in our shadow. We could continue to shelter them, but for how much longer?"

Jaus made his final stand, his voice trembling with a rare flash of vulnerability. "Have you considered what you are asking of our sister, Mahu? You speak of withdrawing her grace. You are asking her to look away while mothers face the agony of labor, uncertain if they or their children will even survive the night. Is that the ’cleansing’ you desire?"

"Of course I considered it," Ikenga replied, his voice rising "Mahu’s domain is exceptional. What I described was a worst-case contingency, a dark thought I entertained, but one that remains entirely within her discretion. It would be hers to decide whether the world must endure such a trial."

Jaus fell into a heavy silence, his expression caught between a reluctant contemplation. Before he could voice his surrender, Ikenga stood abruptly. He crossed the chamber, his footsteps echoing in the void, and placed a steadying hand on Jaus’s shoulder.

"I have had a long time to wrestle with the necessity of this proposal," Ikenga said, addressing the room at large. "I know my words and my actions come across as cruel. I know they strike at the heart of everything you deem wrong."

He looked at each of them in turn, his eyes searching. "You deserve time to process this. If, after reflection, this path does not sit well with any of you, then it will not be taken. We will set it aside and find another way to transcend our limits. I will not force this burden upon this house."

With that, he turned and returned to his throne, leaving the silence to settle once more.

Most of the gods saw the cold truth in Ikenga’s proposal, they understood the necessity of the transformation and the ultimate benefit it would yield for their world. Yet, acceptance remained a bitter pill.

It was agonizing to contemplate watching a civilization they had cultivated for millennia descend into chaos and bloodshed. Their pride, however, was the deepest wound. They were a divine collective; the thought of their own creations, the godlings being dragged into the mire of mortal conflict was an affront to their station.

The prospect of sitting in their celestial realm, masked in apathy, while their creations cried out for grace and intervention, stung these prideful beings. To the gods, it was an insult that their very divinity and status were no longer enough to shield their subjects from the coming tide.

Crepuscular was the first to break the heavy silence. "I support Ikenga’s proposition," he stated, their voice cutting through the tension. "This was inevitable, If the world must bleed, it is better that the blade be held by our own hands."

Mahu followed, her voice softer but no less resolute. "I, too, support the proposal. However, I will not withdraw the grace of motherhood. The sanctity of life must remain protected by my divinity. The Moon’s grace, however..." She paused, her expression hardening. "That, I can withdraw. Let the world grow cold in the darkness; perhaps they will learn to value the light once they have lost it."

Keles, who had remained a silent observant until now, offered only a few words: "I stand with the proposition."

It was finally Jaus’s turn. He looked around the circle, his initial resistance having withered under the weight of the consensus. With a resigned shrug of his shoulders, he murmured, "I have no issue with his proposal."

Seeing the unanimous agreement, Ikenga extended a hand. At his gesture, a multifaceted crystal shimmered into existence, hovering in the center of the chamber. It pulsed with a complex, hypnotic light, a key to the architecture of the cosmos itself.

Before them lay the path to quantification, the method by which they would finally force their world’s origin to expand and harden. They were no longer willing to be sitting ducks, shivering in the dark, waiting for an inevitable calamity to descend upon them.

Instead, they would be the architects of their own evolution. By taking the initiative now, they were choosing to forge their strength in the crucible of conflict, ensuring their world would be an apex predator, not a victim, when the next true challenge arrived.

"How do we use it?" Crepuscular asked, eyes fixed on the pulsing light.

Ikenga offered a knowing smile. He remained silent, waiting for them to reach out. As their fingers brushed the cool, humming surface of the crystal, a collective jolt surged through them. The chamber vanished, replaced by a shared premonition, a vivid window into a destiny tied to the stone.

Their collective focus shifted to the lone figure within the vision. Jaus let out a low, dry chuckle. "Such a lucky fella, that one."

Mahu’s expression softened, her voice carrying an uncharacteristic warmth. "He deserves this grace. He has endured much, and his past trials have forged him perfectly for such a role."

A solemn murmur of agreement passed among them. They watched the figure, the first being to successfully map the breadth of their ever growing world. By sharing the gift of the Great Map, he had ignited an era of unprecedented expansion and restless curiosity across the realms.

"So, are we all in agreement?" Ikenga asked, his voice grounding them back in the present. One by one, they nodded.

Ikenga rose to his feet as a shimmering rift to his realm tore open in the air. He stepped through the threshold, followed in silent procession by the others, even Nana, who moved rarely.

They stepped through the rift and into a sun-drenched clearing. The first thing that struck the divine assembly wasn’t the scenery, but the overwhelming, pungent scent of fermented spirits. Their gazes drifted downward, landing on two figures sprawled in the grass, snoring in a rhythmic, uncoordinated duet.