The Guardian gods-Chapter 454

Ursula beat her wings, soaring higher, the flames parting for her as if recognizing her as their own. A surge of exhilaration coursed through her—this was nothing like the fear and pain she had known before.

Here, she was not a mortal being suffering under the sun’s scorching rays.

Here, she was part of it.

She let out a cry—a phoenix’s song, a melody of rebirth, triumph, and belonging. The very air rippled with its power, sending waves of golden light cascading across the realm.

Her father watched, his golden eyes glowing with pride.

For the first time in her existence, Ursula was home.

And the sun welcomed her as one of its own.

Crepuscular spent a while with Ursula, watching her revel in the flames of his realm, her newfound strength making her glow with the radiance of the sun itself. He was proud—proud in a way that only a father could be. But he had another place to be, another presence that pulled at him.

As he bid his daughter a temporary farewell, his form shifted, dissolving into a golden light. Like a falling star, he plunged toward the depths of Xerosis’ realm.

Unlike the suffocating void of her mother’s dominion, Xerosis’ realm was structured—not a place of endless decay, but of absolute balance.

Pillars of light and shadow intertwined, forming towering halls of unwavering judgment. The air crackled with the weight of justice itself, every sound carrying a sense of deliberation and consequence.

And yet, he did not hesitate—he flew directly toward the one whose presence was etched into his very being.

She was waiting for him. Xerosis stood in the dim light, shrouded in her eternal night. Unlike the other gods, her body did not reflect beauty in the traditional sense—her figure was lean, almost gaunt, her skin a shade between life and death, and the thin veil over her face barely concealed the unnerving truth beneath.

Her robe—so thin, so delicate—did little to hide her form. It was a quiet act of trust, but Crepuscular saw beyond that. He saw the hesitation in her stance, the way her fingers twitched as if caught between reaching for him and withdrawing.

And Crepuscular, in all his haste, found himself still.

There were no words—only the silent tension between them, the heavy air of uncertainty and desire.

Then, at last, he stepped forward.

Xerosis did not move as he reached for the veil covering her face. But as his fingers brushed against the fabric, a tremor ran through her. A fear not of rejection—but of being truly seen.

Her hand came up, catching his, trembling.

He felt it.

The uncertainty. The silent plea.

"It’s okay," he said, his voice low, reassuring.

For a moment, she hesitated. Then, slowly, she let go.

With deliberate care, Crepuscular pulled back the veil.

What greeted him would have terrified mortals—a face marked by the abyss. Two hollow voids where eyes should be, their depths swallowing light. Lips, thin and torn, barely containing the unnatural maw that lurked beneath.

And yet—

To Crepuscular, she was beautiful.

His golden gaze softened, unshaken by what lay before him. His hand, instead of withdrawing, slid to her trembling waist, fingers brushing over the fabric of her robe as if to anchor her in place.

The shadows around them pulsed, uncertain.

He bent down.

Xerosis did not recoil. a moment where fire and balance, creation and judgment intertwined.

She responded, hesitant at first, then with a depth of emotion she had never dared to show before. Tears, silent and shimmering, fell from the dark hollows of her eyes, absorbed into the endless night that surrounded them.

Crepuscular held her closer, his flames never as gentle as they were in this moment.

As they drew nearer to the inevitable next step, her voice, soft yet weighted with unspoken emotions, brushed against his ear.

"Take it easy," she whispered. "This is my first time."

Crepuscular stilled.

His golden eyes burned brighter, yet the fire of his touch remained tender, reverent.

Down on the planet, the night had passed in a blur—when you were terrified for your life, time never seemed to move at the right pace. Too slow when you lay awake, straining to hear any signs of danger, too fast when dawn finally crept over the horizon. But even with the sun rising, its light did little to chase away the fear that had settled deep in the bones of the people.

No one wanted to leave their homes. Not yet. Not until they were sure the nightmare was truly over.

But the leaders—those with power and responsibility—could not afford such hesitation. Despite their own fear, they stepped out, inhaling the morning air tainted with the lingering traces of last night’s devastation. In a way, they saw the people’s fear as both a curse and a blessing. A curse, because it meant the terror was real, suffocating the hearts of their people. But a blessing, because it gave them time. Time to assess the damage. Time to understand what had transpired. And, if necessary, time to hide things that were better left unseen. If there was something that needed to be covered up, they had the chance to cook up an excuse before the rest of the world stepped outside to witness it.

On the eastern continent, near the great boundary between the Omadi and Osita kingdoms, Nwadiebube and his sister, Ezinne, stood with a gathering of other fifth-stage powerhouses. They had braced themselves for the worst as they made their way to the site of the battle. The echoes of last night’s explosions still rang in their memories, and they had expected to find their homeland in ruins. But to their surprise, their territory was left mostly untouched. There was damage—shattered roads, cracked walls, and scorched land—but nothing beyond repair.

It was clear that the godlings had made sure to keep the destruction away from the people. That, at least, was some small mercy. But even their power was not enough to stop the battle from leaving behind something... unnatural.

The crystallized mountain stood at the very edge of the Omadi kingdom, gleaming under the morning light. It wasn’t merely dusted with shards of crystal—it had been wholly transformed. The once-dark rock was now smooth and semi-translucent, glimmering with eerie veins of light that pulsed faintly, like a living thing. Its very presence had a strange pull, an almost magnetic force that kept their eyes locked on it.

But it wasn’t just Nwadiebube and his group who had come to investigate.

From the other side of the mountain, Osita’s son stood with his own contingent of fifth-stage powerhouses. Their presence was heavy, their expressions unreadable as they stared up at the crystallized peak. It was an unspoken reality that despite their kingdoms’ peace, lines of tension always existed between them. And now, this strange new phenomenon had appeared, sitting right on their border.

Yet, for all the mystery of the mountain, there was something even more terrifying just beyond it. Something their eyes had initially ignored.

The aftermath of battle.

Giant pit holes marred the land, some so deep their bottoms could not be seen. A whole forest had been erased, reduced to nothing but barren, cracked earth. The landscape itself had been reshaped by forces too great for mortal hands to comprehend.

Nwadiebube and his people barely had time to take it all in before movement in the distance caught their attention.

A group of shamans approached, their robes fluttering slightly in the wind. Floating beside them was a large shard of crystal, pulsating with the same eerie energy as the mountain.

Something about it sent an unspoken shiver down everyone’s spine.

This was no ordinary crystal.

And whatever had happened here last night... it wasn’t over yet.

Nwadiebube’s voice was steady, but there was an unmistakable weight behind his words as he asked,

"What was the result?"

The group of shamans exchanged glances before one finally stepped forward. His expression was grave as he spoke.

"This was undoubtedly a mountain, Your Highness. A surface investigation confirms that it has undergone extreme heating—so intense that it caused the rock to transmute into this crystalline state. However, when we attempted to probe deeper..." The shaman hesitated for a brief moment, his fingers twitching slightly at his sides. "The crystal pushed back. Any attempt to observe beyond the surface creates interference—an unnatural resistance that makes deeper examination nearly impossible."

Before anyone could respond, another shaman abruptly cut in, his tone laced with unease.

"We can observe deeper, but what we see is not of this world."

Silence fell over the group. The weight of those words sent a ripple of tension through them.

The second shaman reached for the floating shard, his fingers curling around its smooth, cool surface. As he lifted it closer to his eyes, his breathing slowed, his pupils dilating as he peered into the crystal’s depths.

At first, he saw nothing but a bleak, colorless void—an empty, desolate world devoid of light or life. The very air within it seemed heavy, pressing against his senses in a way that made his chest tighten.