The Guardian gods-Chapter 758

From the kneeling remains of Mei's companions, one skull began to crumble. It did not crack or fracture, it simply turned to ash.

Osita's eyes flashed.

"Murmur." The name left his mouth like a blade drawn halfway.

Anger surged through him, sharp and immediate, and Aethelgard answered. The Bastion flared, its laws tightening as Osita directed his will outward not at the Beast King, but beyond it. The domain searched, layers upon layers of reality peeling back as he attempted to locate Murmur and drag him into the Absolute Bastion by force.

There was nothing, no resistance, no attempt at evasion, no trace at all. Murmur had prepared for this.

The realization settled heavily.

Osita's gaze returned to the dark gods before him, and through his connection to his wife, strained but still present he felt her life force. Faint and alive.

He closed his eyes in acceptance.

"Release her," Osita said quietly, the words scraping from his throat, "and deal with me as you wish."

Mocking laughter answered him. It came from the Beast King's form, five voices overlapping in amusement, echoing slightly out of sync with one another.

"It pleases us to see such willingness," they said. "We always welcome new zealots."

The laughter softened into something colder.

"But your goals and desire does not align with ours."

The Beast King straightened slightly, its many eyes fixed on Osita.

"Even now, with the pain you carry, we cannot tempt you to take root within you," the voices continued. "You do not hear us the way others do."

A pause.

"The one you call Murmur does."

The Beast King lowered its massive head until its beak hovered near Osita's ear, its presence warping the space between them.

"He listens," the voices whispered. "You do not."

"You have been assigned a role," the voices said softly. "One you must now play."

A faint smile crept back into the creature's expression.

"You have to play with us, to our satisfaction."

The Beast King lingered there for a moment longer, close enough that Osita could feel the distortion of space ripple against his skin.

"So," the voices concluded, amused and patient, "why don't we get on with it?"

As the last word left the Beast King's mouths, its massive form vanished. There was no buildup, no distortion.The colossal body simply ceased to be.

In its place stood a humanoid, avian figure leaner, denser its silhouette sharp and wrong. Five dark wings unfurled behind it, layered and asymmetrical.

It was already in front of Osita.

The punch landed before the thought of defense could form.

The blow struck Osita square in the gut, space folding inward around the point of impact. His feet lifted from the surface of Aethelgard as if gravity had been dismissed outright. The force carried through him, launching his body backward.

The Beast King did not pause.

Portals bloomed open behind Osita mid-flight, perfectly timed, perfectly aligned. He was swallowed by one and expelled from another, each transition compounding his velocity. With every portal, his speed increased, acceleration stacking without limit.

Space screamed as he crossed it.

Osita became a streak, then a point. Then a falling star.

By the time he broke free of the final portal, he was no longer visible as a figure only a dot of light plunging downward like a meteor.

Far below, in the capital city, the vast tear in space that had rained destruction finally sealed shut.

The sky returned to blue.

In the aftermath, Nwadike lay sprawled across the ground, his chest heaving violently. His clothes were soaked through with sweat, clinging to him as his hands still trembled.

The shield. His father's shield, he had held it.

Every instinct in his body had screamed to let go, to collapse, to flee but he had not. He had anchored himself and endured, bracing against the onslaught until the last of the meteors had fallen.

Or so he believed.

High above, Osita tore through the air.

The moment his awareness sharpened enough for him to recognize where he was headed, he tried to arrest his descent. He twisted, forced power through his body, reaching for control.

A portal opened, perfectly placed.

He passed through it and was flung out again, his trajectory corrected, his speed preserved. Each attempt to regain balance was answered the same way. The Beast King allowed no deviation.

Osita could barely react anymore.

His body had accumulated mass through velocity and compression alone, a consequence of the space he had been forced through. His flesh could endure the impact.

The world beneath him could not as he fell, the air ignited around him.

And the ground below was about to learn what it meant when a protector was turned into a weapon.

The people of the capital city watched in stunned horror as a small dot appeared in the sky above them. Flames licked the edges of its form, hot and fierce, as it fell toward the earth. The sound came next, like the roar of a nuclear strike, crushing and deafening, followed instantly by a shockwave that ripped through districts and streets alike.

Those closest to the impact were obliterated in an instant, reduced to a bloody, unrecognizable mush.

But that was not all.

From above came the cackling, overlapping laughter of the Dark Gods, echoing in the minds of every living soul in the city. The moment it reached them, civilians collapsed, clutching their heads in agony, writhing as invisible hands tore at their sanity. Panic rippled like wildfire, though it mattered little. The destruction had already begun.

Osita reacted instinctively.

Even when bruised, even barely in control of his battered body but quickly healing body. Aethelgard's power surged outward. Tiny, imperceptible shield bubbles snapped into existence over every citizen, covering them like protective domes. Within the shield, the people slipped into a deep, instant sleep, insulated from both physical harm and psychic torment.

His body shot upward, slicing through the sound barrier, flames trailing behind him as he closed the distance to the Beast King. The air itself tore around him.

Mid-air, Osita struck.

Two rapid, precise blows hit the Beast King in succession. His fist connected with its torso and then its wing, each strike landing with devastating concussive force. Without hesitation, Osita grabbed one of the dark wings, spinning violently.

The overlapping voices of the Dark Gods laughed in amusement at the display, their echoes distorted and eerie.

Osita drew deep on the core of his power. Energy surged through him, the weight of Aethelgard behind every muscle, every thought. With one final heave, he flung the Beast King.

The creature became a blur, a streak of darkness hurtling into the distance, faster than sight could follow.

Osita hung momentarily in the sky, surveying the devastation below. The city, his people, his home, it was all shattered. Fires blazed, streets crumbled, and cries of terror would haunt the ruins long after the dust settled.

There was no hesitation.

He surged forward, leaving the ruined capital behind, his figure a comet of retribution as he gave chase to the Beast King.

The battle was far from over.

Osita's mind caught fire with shock from what he saw when he caught up.

The Beast King mid-fall made no effort to correct its trajectory. It did not beat its wings, did not twist to slow itself, did not resist the fall. Instead, it deployed the same tactic it had used against him: portals opened behind its body, propelling it downward with terrifying acceleration.

The realization hit Osita like a punch to the chest.

Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

They were no longer within his territory or domain space. The familiar laws of Aethelgard, the Absolute Bastion, the crushing certainty of his domain no longer applied. They had crossed the invisible threshold. They were now within Omadi Kingdom territory.

Even as comprehension sank in, Osita's instincts took over.

From the final portal opening beneath the Beast King, he discerned the trajectory: straight for the capital.

He acted.

A gesture, fluid and immense, and the hand of his true form appeared.

It was enormous, larger than any city block, black and silver, veined with energy. It stretched outward, a living manifestation of his power, reaching for the cackling dot of light that aimed to annihilate the capital of his rival kingdom.

From the perspective of Omadi's citizens, the sky above their city suddenly tore apart with a cry of air being ripped asunder. Heads tilted, eyes widened, hearts hammered in unison. High above, a blazing dot of light fell faster than reason should allow, trailing flames and energy in its descent.

And then it happened.

Out of nowhere, a colossal, scaled hand appeared, blotting out the sky. Shadows fell across streets, buildings, and terrified faces. The hand descended, reaching for the dot of light.

The city watched, frozen, as the falling streak approached. The hand closed around it with impossible precision. For a heartbeat, it seemed the dot of light had been captured.

And then, just as suddenly, it passed through.