The Guardian gods-Chapter 687

If Murmur still lived, if his reach still lingered in the unseen corners of the world, surely he would not stay silent while his own son toyed with beings so closely tied to the Origin Gods. Murmur's obsession with the divine was something Chen had witnessed all his life. To risk the ire of such beings and have their attentio turned to this side of the world would be madness and Murmur was not a man who allowed madness to go unpunished.

So Chen waited.

The nobles complained. The officials fretted. The godlings grew unpredictable and strange, wandering into cities, upending the empire's fragile order with their whims and curiosity. But Chen only smiled.

"Let them do as they please," he had told his council. "A little chaos never hurt an empire."

In truth, he welcomed it. Every disruption, every act of godling mischief, blurred the lines of control across the empire, making it easier for him to move unseen.

And as he turned his gaze eastward, toward the horizon where the morning mists clung thick and low, a small grin tugged at his lips.

The Misty Lands. The domain of the Vampire Godlings.

If the chaos of the wandering godlings did not stir his father from hiding, perhaps they would. The vampires had long existed under the wary gaze of the empire, their allegiance uncertain. Their growing power had always been a silent insult to his rule and to his empire.

Now, they would become the next piece in his quiet rebellion.

"Let's see," he murmured to himself, eyes glinting like shards of glass,

"How many can resist being drawn into my game."

On the faraway Misty Land, Ethan stood atop the fortress wall at the border of his kingdom. The early sunlight crept through the fog in thin, sharp strands, each ray irritating his skin but he welcomed the sensation.

For the turmoil churning inside him, even pain felt grounding.

Two weeks had passed since the day the godling's competition was meant to take place, a day that had held immense weight for him, for his people, and for the noble houses who had prepared tirelessly. The significance of that event was not merely ceremonial; it was a statement to the world, and to the vampires themselves, that they were worthy of standing alongside their fellow godlings.

But the godlings had not come.

Every time Ethan thought back to that moment, heat surged up his neck. The image of himself standing before his people, grand arena filled, nobles lined in perfect formation, warriors ready, elders present

only for nothing to happen, made his jaw clench painfully.

He had looked foolish, worse, he had looked naive.

At first, he had convinced himself that the godlings were simply planning a dramatic entrance. Their kind seemed to enjoy theatrics, and their antics were often strange even to other godlings. But even so, they always coordinated, always sent word, always gave notice before any grand display.

This time, there had been nothing. No message, no envoy, no sign. Not even the courtesy of a warning.

Those hours waiting in front of the crowd still burned in Ethan's memory. The anticipation had slowly shifted to confusion, then to irritation, then to something far uglier. He could still recall the looks exchanged among the younger nobles, the raised brows, the whispered assumptions, the sighs hidden behind fans and sleeves.

To them, it wasn't the godlings who had failed, it was Ethan who looked like he'd been played.

Anger and shame seethed together in his chest, tangled so tightly he could no longer separate them.

Were they being underestimated by their fellow godlings? Did the others truly think so little of the vampires? Did they not take him seriously at all?

His fingers dug into the stone railing, leaving small cracks spidering across the surface. Dark Fog swirled around him heavy and cold.

His council, the older ones shared in his humiliation, they had planned meticulously, only to be made into fools before their own people. He could still hear their frustrated murmurs, their attempts to mask embarrassment with anger.

Ethan closed his eyes, letting the burning sunlight prickle along his skin again.

If something had truly delayed the godlings on their way, Ethan could have understood, annoyed, yes, but understanding of the situation. Accidents happened, even to beings as powerful as they were. But what he could not accept was the silence.

The anger returned whenever he thought of it, sharp and visceral yet it faded just as quickly when he remembered the opposite truth, the other godling leaders would never do such a thing.

Ethan himself had been in communication with them for a while. He knew their personalities, their pride, their codes of conduct. Whatever else godlings could be arrogant, playful, whimsical. They were not petty to this degree. They would never humiliate a fellow godling's people so openly.

Which meant only one thing, Zephyr and the others had not known.

They migh be as confused as he was.

That certainty settled in only after the mirror-c

all he received on the evening of the failed competition. Zephyr, along with the leaders of the other races, contacted him the moment they realized something had gone wrong.

Ethan had immediately sensed something strange in their expressions, like they were dealing with something acute but their was a genuine worry for his situation.

Their first question they asked, had been whether their godlings had reached the Misty Land safely. Their second was why they could not witness the competition on their side, why the viewing rites had failed, as the people on their side was also looking forward to view the competition.

This alone confirmed everything. Zephyr and the others had been expecting the event, anticipating it even, their people had prepared, just as Ethan's had. There had been no intention to miss the event, nor to cause this humiliation.

Something was wrong.Terribly, clearly wrong.

But knowing this and admitting it were two very different things.

Ethan felt a cold weight settle in his chest at the realization. If something had indeed happened, if their godlings had encountered danger on their way to his land. Then it was on his soil, his territory, his responsibility.

How could he tell his fellow godling leaders that danger might have swallowed their people? How could he admit that something beyond his knowledge had unfolded in his land without his awareness?

How could he confess that the Misty Land, the territory he prided himself on controlling, had failed to protect even its invited guests?

Worst of all, this was his people first time hosting. It was not a good look for him and his people to show such incompetence.

He couldn't admit this to them, not with the shame of the failed ceremony still fresh in his veins.

So he chose to conceal it, to cover the truth with the most convenient explanation he could muster.

"A technical failure," he had told them "A simple mistake. It will be corrected soon."

His voice had been steady, but he felt the lie twist uncomfortably inside him.

He told them that the godlings were merely touring the lands for now, getting used to local customs, learning about the mortal world here.

"I will inform you of the new date for the competition," he said before the mirror dimmed, cutting off the call.

And when the light faded from the glass, Ethan was left staring at his reflection, a ruler trapped between humiliation, confusion, and the fear of what he might discover if he sought the truth.

With urgency pressing on him from all sides, Ethan began issuing orders the moment the mirror-call ended. Scouts were dispatched beyond the fog-covered borders. Messengers left under concealment spells.

Ethan had three orders, find out what happened, find out where the godlings were and find out if they were in danger.

For two days, information trickled back inconsistently, fragmented rumors, vague sightings, hints that led nowhere. But on the third day, the reports aligned, forming a truth so infuriating that Ethan had to read them twice before he accepted them.

The godlings had been trying to reach him. Repeatedly, Persistently and Desperately to inform him on their current situation.

And the empire had been stopping them.

That was what brought him to the fortress wall today, standing beneath the irritating rays of sunlight, letting the burn keep him steady as he processed the outrage.

Of all the explanations he had considered, accident, misdirection, internal conflict among the godlings. He had never once imagined that humans of all beings would be the obstacle. That mortals would dare to block the godling's path. That the empire would dare to cut off communication between them.

It was unthinkable.

Yet the intel was undeniable.

The only reason Ethan even knew this much was because he had leveraged one advantage uniquely to his own, the vampires ability to blend in among humans when needed.

They began to take steps they had planned on taking at a later time which was having their own people infiltrate the empire and keep an eye out.

Using that, he had his people slip quietly into the empire as ordinary travelers, merchants, or laborers. It was through these means that they learned of the empire's recent, suspicious behavior.