The Guardian gods-Chapter 803

The true rot in Nwadiebube’s spirit wasn’t just fear, it was disillusionment. His encounter with Osita had left a scar deeper than any physical wound, silently warping his perception of what a Sixth-Tier being should be.

In Nwadiebube’s mind, a being with the power of a god should carry themselves with a divine, untouchable gravity. Instead, he saw Osita, a man wielding world-shattering power who still acted with the irrationality and petty whims of a mortal.

This dissonance created a mental blockage he couldn’t bypass. He had begun to look down on the very rank he sought, he couldn’t bring himself to "proclaim his law to reality" because, in his heart, he no longer believed that reality deserved to be governed by such flawed, "mortal" divinity.

This subconscious contempt made the act of opening a world-wide domain feel beneath him, a cheap imitation of true power. Every time he attempted to ascend, his psyche recoiled. How could he commit his soul to a Tier that produced someone as repulsive as Osita?

It didn’t help that a far more seductive whisper echoed in the back of his mind, the promise of true Godhood. To Nwadiebube, the Sixth Tier now felt like a dead end, a tainted crowded room full of irrational actors. Godhood, however, was a clean slate. It was a path that promised a level of existence far removed from the "god-like" mortals he despised. He was trapped in a self-imposed limbo, rejecting the power he needed to survive because he was already reaching for a throne that didn’t yet exist.

Despite his growing contempt for the Sixth Tier, Nwadiebube was no fool. He understood the brutal reality of the power scale. No matter how "irrational" or "mortal" he deemed Osita to be, a Sixth-Tier’s Law was an absolute force. It was a ticket to safety, a shield he desperately needed to forge if he were to survive the coming storm.

He knew he was living on borrowed time. He was acutely aware that he only remained on his throne because Osita’s people lacked the hunger for expansion. If Osita or his son ever developed the same territorial ambition that drove Nwadiebube, his kingdom would be toppled in a single afternoon. There would be no defense, only erasure.

Standing in his silent courtroom, Nwadiebube’s gaze drifted toward the south, his mind heavy with the absence of a certain female figure. Mei had been silent since she departed for her mission. Given the volatility of the current climate, he accepted the grim probability that she was dead, a spent pawn in a much larger game.

If Mei was gone, his direct link to her Master had vanished with her. Yet, his need had only grown. The Sixth Tier was a tainted path, but Mei’s Master promised something else, a methodology for true Godhood.

Nwadiebube steeled his resolve. He would have to find a way to initiate contact himself. He was willing to bargain with shadows and walk a path that most would consider heresy, all to bypass the "lowly" Sixth Tier and ascend to a height where neither Osita nor the laws of mortals could ever reach him again.

Nwadiebeube’s relentless spreading of the news achieved its intended effect, a grim realization swept across the lands. It was now undeniable that the Osita Kingdom had ascended as the preeminent human power, solidified by the staggering presence of two Sixth-Tier beings.

To the world wide ations, this shift made their own perceived authority feel like an illusion, a handful of sand held with closed arms, only to watch every grain slip through their fingers.

A heavy, suffocating silence settled over the world of Nana, a period of collective dread that stretched until it felt permanent. Then, without warning, the silence shattered.

The sound of a baby’s first cry pierced the air. It was not muffled by distance or walls, it resonated with equal clarity in every corner of the globe. That first, sharp gasp for breath, the universal signal of new life was heard by every ear. And as the cry echoed, an innate knowledge surged through the hearts of every living being on the planet, as if the world itself were whispering a new truth.

The innate knowledge hit like a tidal wave, branding a name into the collective consciousness of every soul "The God of Stagnation and Succession". Born of the union between the God of Nature and Curses and the Goddess of Death and Darkness, this child was the embodiment of the end of one cycle and the violent beginning of the next.

Following the infant’s cry, a metaphysical surge rippled across the globe. To the common man, the air merely grew heavy, but to those who could see beyond the veil, the world was being lit up in a waves of light.

Across every continent, massive pillars of light erupted, piercing the heavens. These were not mere displays of mana, they were signatures of ascension. Each pillar represented a new Sixth-Tier being breaking through the limits of mortality. In a single day, the World of Nana, once dominated by a handful of elites saw its ranks of power swell by the dozens.

It was a celestial salute. The pillars stood like a forest of white fire, a silent, terrifying choir welcoming the newborn god to a world that would never be the same again.

For the newly ascended Sixth-Tier beings, the euphoria of their newfound power was fleeting. As the infant’s cry resonated within their souls, it triggered a buried, shared memory, the cryptic prophecies of the Oracle.

Suddenly, the Oracle’s warnings and the child’s dark lineage snapped into terrifying focus. Their perception shifted, revealing a shimmering thread of fate extending from their very essence, stretching into the infinite void. At the end of that thread lay a small, curled figure "The Time Child". This was the one the Oracle spoke of, the harbinger who would eventually see to their end.

Driven by a desperate survival instinct, many of these new higher beings struck at once. They funneled their immense power and law through the connection, attempting to extinguish the child’s life before it could truly begin.

But the child was not unguarded.

A veiled woman manifested within their vision, her form radiating an absolute, quiet authority. She did not even deign to look at the attackers, her gaze remained fixed with maternal devotion on the child she cradled. As the Sixth-Tier strikes neared her, they were erased, as if the very concept of their power had been rewritten into nothingness.

Then, looming behind the woman and child, a second presence stirred. Two massive, mismatched eyes opened in the darkness: one vibrant green, the other a deep, haunting purple. They glared through the void with a cold predatory gaze, a warning that froze the hearts of the new higher beings.

The newly ascended were not alone in their disturbance. Every established Sixth-Tier being on the planet felt the same jarring sensation, a spectral line anchoring their very essence to the newborn child.

Roth, Murmur, Osita, Nwadike, and the ancient Dragons all felt the tug of the thread, but their reactions varied.

For Roth, the connection was a triviality, he stood on the precipice of godhood himself, viewing the thread as a tether he would soon outgrow and snap. Murmur remained equally unbothered, his mind already weaving a grander design where, once complete, this fated connection would become nothing more than a forgotten motion in the gears of his plan. The Dragons, secure in the ancient sanctity of their own heritage, merely acknowledged the thread as a new law of the world, unconcerned by the whims of a fledgling deity.

However, for Osita and Nwadike, the sensation brought a different heat. Unlike the others, they did not strike out in fear or stay silent in arrogance. Instead, they felt a sharp, stinging annoyance.

They had meticulously avoided the Oracle’s path, choosing to ascend through the purity of their own bloodlines and heritage rather than through his method to avoid issues such as this. To find themselves suddenly dragged into the "Time Child’s" web bound by the same fate they believed they had bypassed felt like a personal insult to their sovereignty. They weren’t afraid of the child, they were livid at the audacity of being claimed by it.

Ikenga and Keles, having effortlessly neutralized the assault on their child, became the targets of countless scornful glares. These newly ascended Sixth-Tier beings, drunk on their sudden elevation, now possessed an arrogance that blinded them to the true scale of the power they faced.

One figure, emboldened by his new rank, stepped forward. His voice echoed through the metaphysical space: "You cannot shield him for eternity. He will grow. His very nature will eventually compel him to seek us out, and when that day comes, even your protection will not be enough to save him."

Ikenga and Keles did not argue. They didn’t even acknowledge the threat with a word. They simply cast a final, lingering glance at the assembled ranks before their forms dissolved into the nothingness of the void.