The Guardian gods-Chapter 436

From the shadows of the deep, his divine realm took form—a place of infinite waters, where grand cities of coral and pearl rested beneath waves of liquid silver. The Everflowing Treasury was not merely a vault; it was a kingdom where wealth moved like the tides, where golden rivers flowed, and where the souls of those who sought fortune in life now drifted, ever entwined with the fate they had chosen.

Ships of spectral merchants sailed these waters, forever trading, forever seeking the right moment to grasp opportunity before it slipped away. The sky above shimmered, reflecting the wealth below, yet never revealing its full depth.

And at the heart of it all sat his throne, hovering over the boundless expanse of the Everflowing Treasury. From there, he would watch, guide, and shape the fate of those who sought fortune—or ruin.

Descending to the depths of the Flowua side, her rune pillar guided her toward the place where her father once clashed with his counterpart. The scars of their battle still lingered, though time and the relentless tides had worked to erase them. The vast chasm her father had carved into the ocean floor had long since been filled, yet a haunting emptiness remained. No sea creatures had returned, as if they still feared the lingering echoes of divine wrath.

Something had changed in this part of the ocean. The currents no longer flowed naturally—they were turbulent, chaotic, as if the sea itself rejected anything that dared approach. The very water seemed to rebel, its motion not a simple current but a forceful rejection, pushing away all intruders with an almost sentient will.

Flowua felt the pushback and smiled. It had been a long time since the sea itself had resisted her. Unlike other demigods who commanded a personalized domain—territories molded to their will—Flowua had none. Her power was not confined to a single realm but extended as far as her endurance allowed.

At the stage where most demigods sought to comprehend and manifest a domain, Flowua had done something different—she had shattered that limitation. Her understanding of water was not about control but about movement, about the ceaseless flow of existence itself. She had always disliked how the ocean, the very thing she belonged to, created resistance against her. And so, she had overcome it.

She comprehended fluid friction, not as a hindrance but as a force to erase. Her power negated resistance, rendering her movement unimpeded. In water, she moved as if no currents opposed her; on land, the very air parted before her, allowing her to traverse with unnatural speed. She had become one of the fastest beings in existence, untethered by the limitations of friction.

Now, as she faced the sea’s defiance, she responded in kind. Her power extended, crashing against the ocean’s unnatural turbulence, dissolving its resistance as she took her first step forward. But the moment she did, the opposition grew stronger—far beyond anything the sea itself could produce.

This was no ordinary resistance. The waters had been tainted, infused with the lingering auras of two gods. A clash of divine wills had seeped into the currents, warping them into something unnatural, something that refused to yield.

For the first time in a long while, Flowua felt the sea truly fight back. And that only made her more determined.

Flowua closed her eyes, letting the turbulence wash over her. The sea raged against her presence, its resistance unnatural—wild, corrupted, almost alive with the echoes of the divine battle that had scarred this place. But she did not fight it. Instead, she surrendered herself to the flow, allowing the water to envelop her, to press against her skin, to seep into every fiber of her being.

And then, she let go.

A deep stillness overtook her mind as she drifted into a trance, sinking into the depths of her own existence. Her body remained in motion, yet her consciousness expanded, reaching beyond the physical. In this state, she was neither here nor there—she was the current, the tide, the shifting weight of the ocean itself.

Within the depths of this trance, a voice echoed, ancient and powerful. It resonated not in her ears, but within her very soul. "Flowua," it intoned, "you have defied the currents, shattered the resistance, and bent the very sea to your will. You stand on the precipice of divinity. But the question remains: what type of god do you want to be?"

For the longest time, she had defined herself by movement, by her ability to erase resistance. But what was she beyond that? What was she when there was no path ahead, no opposition to overcome?

The answer lay in the water. It had never merely been an obstacle; it was life, force, will. It was the unyielding push and pull of existence itself. It was not just the flow, but the reason for movement.

Her mind dove deeper, past the knowledge of demigods, past the mortal understanding of the sea. She glimpsed something vast, something ancient—the true nature of fluidity. Not just the absence of resistance but the very force that guided all things into motion.

Flowua saw rivers carving through stone, storms churning across the sky, the great unseen currents of the deep shifting the world itself. Water was never truly still; even in stillness, it was alive, waiting, adapting, shaping.

And then it struck her.

She had spent her existence removing obstacles from her path, but in doing so, she had only grasped half the truth. The flow did not merely erase resistance—it redirected it, transformed it, bent it to its will.

Her trance deepened. She felt her very being unravel and reform, reshaping into something greater. Her power expanded—not just negating friction, but commanding it, guiding it. Where there was resistance, she would not merely cancel it—she would shape its direction, turn it into power, mold it into force.

And so, as she returned to herself, as her consciousness snapped back into her body, Flowua did not merely stand against the sea’s resistance—she became the force guiding its currents.

The tainted water pushed against her, trying to repel her presence.

This time, she did not erase its force.

She redirected it and at the same time it’s form changed.

The chaotic turbulence that once opposed her now flowed around her, its force bending and breaking to her will. The path ahead, once blocked, now welcomed her like an extension of her own body.

The solidified water crunched beneath Flowua’s feet, each step a testament to her defiance. The divine pressure, meant to be an insurmountable wall, now fueled her ascent, the transformed water a bizarre, almost beautiful path carved through the resisting sea. She continued her climb, the massive pillar held aloft, its weight seemingly insignificant against the force of her will. The aura of the two gods pulsed around her, a desperate attempt to maintain its hold, but it was like trying to contain a raging river with a sieve.

As Flowua ascended further, the strange, solidified path stretching before her, a profound shift occurred. The chaotic energy of the resisting sea, the clash between her power and the divine aura, began to coalesce. The world around her seemed to slow, the churning water calming, the solidified path shimmering with an ethereal glow.

Flowua opened her eyes, and in that moment— A deep vibration pulsed through the ocean, a resonance that rippled through the very fabric of the sea. Flowua had already become the flow, had already embraced the boundlessness of movement—but now, something greater called to her.

The sky.

A golden thread of divinity wove itself into the waters, reaching down like a beckoning hand. Flowua could feel its pull, the undeniable force of ascension. Yet, the weight of the sea held her down, not as resistance, but as a final tether to the world she had always known.

And then—Nana arrived.

She did not rise or appear; she was simply there, standing amidst the endless deep, her form untouched by the turbulence. She gazed at Flowua with knowing eyes, her presence as vast and eternal as the ocean itself.

"You are ready," Nana said, her voice carried by the very currents Flowua had once fought against. "But you must leave the sea behind to claim what is yours."

Flowua hesitated, looking down at the depths she had called home. She had never known a sky, had never belonged to still lands and open air. The ocean had been everything—her cradle, her battlefield, her proving ground.

Nana extended her hand. "It is not abandonment, Flowua. The sea will always be a part of you. But now, you must take your place among the gods."

A shift occurred. The waters around them began to split, parting as if bowing to Flowua’s newfound divinity. The golden thread above became a pillar of light, piercing through the sea, calling her upward.

Flowua clenched her fists, then exhaled.

She had never feared forward motion. She would not start now.

With a single step, the currents lifted her—not as a struggle, but as an ascension. The ocean did not pull her back; it carried her forward, honoring her rise. Nana guided her, the light intensifying as Flowua broke through the surface for the first time in her existence.