It seemed that true mana could only manifest when these primordial forces rubbed against each other organically, completely free from the domineering influence of any outside willpower. By forcing the collision with their own will, the Origin Gods were inadvertently smothering the very reaction needed for mana to come about.

As Ikenga peered deeper into the tower’s design, the dark brilliance of the mages methods laid itself bare. They had found a way to tear into the Elemental Plane, drag the living elemental residents out of their home world, and permanently imprison them within the heart of the spires. Trapped together in a confined space, these spirits were forced to co-exist and interact indefinitely, allowing the natural generation of pure mana to occur without any artificial guidance. 𝑓𝘳𝘦𝑒𝑤𝑒𝘣𝘯ℴ𝘷𝘦𝓁.𝑐𝑜𝑚

The mages genius went even further as through some highly sophisticated means that Ikenga had still yet to fully unravel, they managed to filter and tune the resulting raw mana. They could manipulate the output so that the generated mana perfectly matched the specific elemental affinity of the mage who commanded the tower.

A perfect example stood directly before him, the core of this very tower was flooded entirely with light-elemental mana, tailored to empower a master of the light arts.

It was truly amazing how much wisdom that could be gleaned from a single mortal structure. Yet, fascinating as it was, this new understanding added absolutely nothing to Ikenga’s personal strength, nor did it alter his original design for these towers. The complex riddle of cultivating the tower’s core was not his burden to bear, that was a task meant for the Paragons, the very ones who would ultimately need and wield these artifacts of power.

Turning his gaze back down to Ember "Your path forward should now be entirely clear to you," Ikenga said, his eyes locking onto his grandson "Go out into the world. Gather these materials. The day you possess the mastery to forge a Mage Tower of your own will be the exact day you truly ascend."

Before the young apeling could even open his mouth to reply, Ikenga casually waved a hand. In an instant, space folded around the boy, and Ember was swept away, safely returned to the ethereal depths of the spirit realm to begin his trial.

With a wave of his hand, a flawless replica of the marked map materialized in the air before him. Ikenga studied the glowing coordinates for a brief second before making his move. In the next heartbeat, the moon was gone and he was standing directly in front of a massive, shimmering boundary wall.

This was the barrier protecting the realm of Tide, the God of the Everflowing Treasury. Ikenga placed a calm palm against the surface of the wall, intentionally bleeding a fraction of his energy into the structure to make his presence known. The realm recognized his signature instantly, and the barrier parted, allowing him to easily slip through the boundary.

However, the sight that welcomed Ikenga on the other side was far from what anyone would expect from a deity of riches. There were no glittering mountains of gold, no radiant halos of divine wealth. Everything looked profoundly dull. The vibrant luster and metaphysical shine that defined a true treasure were entirely absent from the domain.

Instead, a suffocating heaviness and a profound grayness clung to the air. Ikenga frowned, his eyes narrowing as he stepped forward into the gloom. He had honestly believed that, by now, Tide would have managed to overcome his crippling heartbreak over Siren. It seemed he had vastly underestimated the depth of his nephew’s despair.

But now, looking at the decay around him, it was clear the boy had truly given up. Walking deep into the heart of the palace, Ikenga found the grand throne completely vacant. Instead, the air was thick and suffocating, dominated by the heavy, sour stench of divine alcohol.

Tide was slumped in a shadow nearby. His appearance was an absolute mess, his robes disheveled and his hair matted though it was obvious he had scrambled to frantically tidy himself up the moment he sensed his visitor’s arrival.

Shame bled through Tide’s expression. With his shoulders slumped and a look of embarrassment plastered across his face, he forced himself to speak. "Uncle... why the sudden visit?"

Ikenga offered no immediate reply. He simply took slow, measured steps toward his nephew. Once he reached him, he began to silently circle the younger god gauging him. The deliberate, heavy rhythm of Ikenga’s footsteps caused Tide to visibly fidget, his anxiety spiking in the quiet room.

"I had plans for you," Ikenga said, his voice cutting through the damp air "I figured your unique talents could be of monumental help to me. But looking at you now... I highly doubt that."

Hearing that he was actually needed shattered Tide’s stupor. He snapped his head up in genuine surprise, for someone like his uncle to explicitly request his assistance, the task must be of great importance. But the sudden spark of hope was instantly extinguished. As Tide raised his eyes, he was met with Ikenga’s cold gaze. The sheer coldness of that look caused him to flinch, and he immediately bowed his head back down, unable to hold his uncle’s stare.

The pathetic sight made Ikenga smack his lips in disgust. He finally understood why Jaus had been avoiding his own son lately. For someone as prideful as Jaus, witnessing his own flesh and blood reduced to such a spineless wreck would have driven him into a blinding rage. He likely would have left the boy with permanent damage and done things he would come to regret.

"Have you truly lost so much of your spine that you cannot even look me in the eyes?" Ikenga demanded, clear anger and biting irritation in his voice. "Where is the loud, boisterous boy I used to know?"

The raw fury in Ikenga’s tone made Tide shrink even smaller into himself. "I am sorry..." he whispered miserably.

His apology was instantly cut short by a fist.

The punch connected with terrifying force. In a fraction of a second, Tide found his entire reality shattered, his senses were completely overwhelmed by an explosion of hot pain as his feet violently left the ground. He flew backward through the air, a helpless streak of motion, until his momentum was abruptly and brutally halted.

He smashed directly into a grand fountain, shattering the structure as it began to bleed out heavy, glittering streams of liquid gold.

"What did you say?"

The voice of his uncle drifted down to him, cold and clear, as the ringing in Tide’s ears finally began to fade. Coming to his senses amidst the ruins of the shattered fountain, Tide tasted the copper tang of blood pooling in his mouth. He instinctively opened his jaws to repeat his apology, but a sudden, terrifying premonition told him exactly what another spineless "sorry" would bring. He wisely snapped his mouth shut.

Ikenga was levitating just above him, his shadow completely enveloping the fallen god. "Stand up," he commanded.

Tide hesitated for a fraction of a second, his body aching, but he forced himself to his feet.

As Tide stood swaying, Ikenga peered down at him with a look of disappointment. "While you are here, rotting away in your own filth, Siren and her new man are actively growing in power"

The words cut deeper than the physical blow. Ikenga stepped closer, his voice dropping to a harsh, mocking whisper "The very same mortal who stepped into your shadow and took what belonged to you is on the verge of ascension. Soon, he will hold the exact same status as you. He will be able to look you dead in the eye as an equal... though, in truth, you wouldn’t even be able to look back, given how utterly miserable you’ve allowed yourself to become."

Ikenga gestured broadly to the desolate, unpolished palace around them. "Look at you. You are the God of Riches, yet here you sit, moping on a pile of gold that has lost all its value because its master has lost his soul. As the deity of the treasury, you of all people should understand the fundamental law of exchange, a loss must sometimes be accepted so that a greater profit can be gained later. Yet a single bad investment, a single loss has completely broken you."

Tide stood frozen, the mention of Siren’s new mortal lover ascending to godhood felt like a physical blade twisting in his chest. His fingers twitched, digging into his palms from clenching hard.

"He... he is ascending?" Tide managed to choke out, his voice hoarse, a fragile mixture of disbelief and long-buried resentment finally cracking through his apathy.

"He is running laps around you," Ikenga countered, landing softly on the debris of the golden fountain. "While you drowned yourself in fermented sorrow, he forged a path. The world doesn’t halt its rotation because a god’s feelings were bruised, Tide."