The Guardian gods-Chapter 516

The last thing Rattan saw before the world twisted around him was the silent, watchful form of the ogre, seated on his throne.

At the same time, the Ogre King spoke to the open air, his voice calm and steady.

"Prepare the dining hall. We will soon have visitors."

He sat in silence, eyes closed, letting his thoughts churn. His mind circled back to Rattan—a young goblin, still a student, but unlike any he had seen in years. Talented, yes, but more importantly, compassionate. That was rare. And in the role he was meant to play, it was exactly the trait that mattered most.

That compassion, that stubborn need to do the right thing—that was what made Rattan perfect. He could influence, guide, and shift things from the inside. And the fact he was still a student? That only made it better. It placed him in a position that could sway the young, the curious, the undecided. A subtle power, but one that could stretch far.

The Ogre King had not had a win like this in centuries. For a long time now, he’d been on the edge of surrender. The Empire was everywhere, tightening its grip, and even he had started to consider giving in. There was no glory in fighting a slow defeat.

But with Rattan... there was something again. A sliver of hope. A move to play.

He didn’t open his eyes when the presence revealed itself. He felt it—familiar, cold, unwanted. He only opened his eyes when Vellok and the Emperor stepped out from the shadows.

No words were exchanged at first. The room felt heavy with the silence between them.

Then, the Ogre King stood. His face was fully visible now—he made no attempt to hide it. Let them see what age and waiting had done. Let them see he was still standing.

He walked down from his throne slowly, arms spreading just slightly.

"Well," he said, voice deep and even. "You’re right on time."

"It brings me much joy that my two little brothers decided to pay me a visit today," the Ogre King said, a smile creeping onto his face.

Strangely, neither of the goblin royals reacted to being called brothers. No surprise, no denial. Just silence. An Ogre, related to the Emperor and his advisor—that wasn’t something most would believe, but here, no one denied it.

Vellok scoffed. "We know what you’re playing at, but this isn’t the time for it. There’s an invasion at hand— possible ratmen rising if we don’t do something about it. We don’t need your games right now."

The Ogre King didn’t respond. He turned and began walking toward the heavy doors. "Let’s go eat. It’s been a while since we’ve all been together. Centuries, in fact."

As he reached for the door, a fluctuation of energy rippled through the room—cold, sharp, unnatural. The Emperor’s aura pressed outward like a blade unsheathed. But before it could deepen, a massive hand clamped down on his shoulder.

The Ogre King leaned in, voice low and firm. "I said, let’s go eat."

The Emperor looked down at the hand, then slowly up at the Ogre’s face. At this distance, the Ogre could see the faint glow now pulsing behind the Emperor’s eyes. Whatever he had become, it was more than flesh and bone.

The Emperor’s voice came out cold. "Get your hand off me."

For a brief moment, neither moved. The air felt thick. But then, the Ogre King let go, stepping back.

"Follow me," he said simply.

Without waiting, he left the chamber.

Vellok glanced at the Emperor, who said nothing. The advisor followed close behind the Ogre King, and the Emperor treaded behind them in silence.

They came to a massive doorway that creaked open at their approach, revealing a vast dining hall. A long stone table stretched across the room, lit by fire sconces on every wall. At the head and ends were three large chairs—ancient, carved, and clearly meant only for them.

They ate in silence for a long while. The only sounds were the clinking of cutlery and the occasional crackle from the fire.

Then the Ogre King spoke, his voice calm but firm.

"Your goal with the ratmen... was something I never agreed with. And I still don’t."

The Emperor’s reply came cold and measured. "Their extinction should serve you even better. So why resist? They need to be gone for your role to be fulfilled."

The Ogre King let out a low laugh.

"No. My goal has changed. And as it turns out, they’re needed to complete it. You two green grunts are the ones who need them gone—not me."

Vellok’s voice finally cut in, sharp and pointed. "Related or not, you should watch your mouth. You can be dealt with."

The Ogre King laughed harder, full-bodied and unbothered.

"You were hesitant to deal with me before the invasion," he said, wiping his mouth with a thick cloth. "And you definitely can’t now—not with a threat so big that our entire race is hanging by a thread."

The Emperor spoke up, his tone calm but suggestive. "You could rule another world... after you help us get through this."

The Ogre King’s smile finally cracked. His hand slammed down on the table, rattling the plates.

"I don’t want to rule another world. I want this one. I want the position that rightfully belongs to me." free𝑤ebnovel.com

Vellok scoffed, voice dripping with mockery "It was never your s to begin with. You’re nothing but a brute."

The table split with a loud crack as the Ogre King rose to his feet. His body lit up with glowing markings that pulsed with power, immediately drawing the attention of both the Emperor and Vellok.

The Ogre King’s voice deepened, filled with heat.

"Could a brute achieve what you see before you? We’ve been free folk for over two centuries, yet you still cling to the old doctrines. Still bound by what the mages taught you—what should or shouldn’t be."

There was a moment of silence.

The once-lively dining hall, now bearing the remnants of a fierce argument or perhaps a subtle confrontation, seemed to hold its breath. The light of the chandeliers reflected in goblets of untouched wine.

Then, in a voice edged with solemnity, the emperor spoke.

"Congratulations, brother, on your sixth-stage advancement."

His words rang out with a calm finality, but behind them was something else—admiration laced with unease.

With a casual wave of his hand, the shattered remains of the ornate dining table began to reassemble themselves. Splinters of polished mahogany and shards of fine porcelain lifted into the air, reforming into their original elegance as if the destruction had never occurred.

Vellok, seated at the far end of the hall, his fingers lightly tapping the restored wood, leaned forward and spoke again.

"But your advancement," he said with a quiet intensity, "only makes it clearer why you are unsuited to claim the throne of this world."

The Ogre King remained silent, his massive frame still as stone. There was no outrage, no retort—only a steady gaze that revealed nothing and everything at once.

Vellok continued, voice rising slightly as if challenging the silence itself. "The mage circles will be stunned by your achievement. A knight reaching the sixth stage was already unheard of in our world. But to forge a new path entirely? A path that bypasses traditional limits?" He shook his head, a small, wry smile touching his lips. "Brilliant. Dangerous. Impossible to replicate."

He paused, letting the words sink in before speaking again, his tone more somber now.

"And that is the crux of it, isn’t it? Your path forward is no longer lit by precedent or guided by legacy. You have become a pioneer—and pioneers walk alone. This new road you’ve carved, this strange evolution of the knightly art... it may take decades to master. Centuries, even. You walk into a wilderness where no map exists."

He leaned back, folding his arms.

"And what this world needs, what its throne demands, is not a king lost in the maze of personal transcendence."

"You’ve taken a step," Vellok said, his voice calm and devoid of malice, "from brute to a merely decent powerhouse."

It wasn’t an insult—just a statement of fact, cold and clinical, like a physician diagnosing a wound. The words hung heavy in the air, their truth undeniable.

The Ogre King, now seated with deliberate stillness, fixed both Vellok and the Emperor with a gaze like ice—sharp, unmoving, impenetrable.

"I would not have chosen this path," he said at last, his voice low and gravelly, "had either of you allowed me to follow the original path of advancement."

His words carried not just accusation, but a quiet grief—of a path denied, a destiny stolen.

The Emperor’s expression did not change, but his voice was steely. "That was impossible," he replied. "The title your path would have bestowed upon you... would have torn at the very foundations of the empire. We have no place for a god among us."

Vellok scoffed, the sound short and sharp. "A god?" he repeated. "You flatter yourself, brother. You wouldn’t have become a god. You would’ve become a symbol. A tool. A servant—enshrined, yes, but shackled all the same."