The Guardian gods-Chapter 804

But as they vanished, the atmosphere didn’t lighten, it curdled.

A new presence surged into the vacuum they left behind. Four eyes snapped open in the darkness, unhidden and brimming with pure, suffocating malice.

Two of the eyes were a piercing, abyssal blue, radiating a supernatural chill so intense that the very breath of the Sixth-Tier beings turned to mist in their lungs. The other pair glowed a deep, sickly greenish-red. Under the weight of that dual gaze, these new higher beings felt their own bodies betray them, their flesh began to tremble and writhe as if it were trying to crawl off their bones to escape the stare.

The arrogance of the new Sixth-Tiers evaporated instantly, replaced by the realization that they have stepped too far.

For the ascended gods Maul and Ikem, the joy of their little brother’s birth was stripped away in a heartbeat. They had barely begun to manifest their presence to welcome the newborn when the void was flooded with the murderous intent of dozens.

They watched, paralyzed by the speed of it, as multiple Laws, the fundamental building blocks of reality were woven together with the sole purpose of snuffing out their brother’s life. Though Ikenga and Keles had stepped in to erase the threat, the insult remained. The sanctuary of their family had been violated.

The rage that followed was tectonic. Maul and Ikem turned their collective gaze upon the newly ascended Sixth-Tier beings, their four eyes burning with a localized, suffocating fury.

Unlike the presence of Ikenga and Keles whose power felt like an infinite, unreachable abyss, the strength of these two gods felt tangible. It was massive, yes, but it was a mountain they could see the top of.

Realizing they weren’t facing the absolute erasure of the parent-gods, the Sixth-Tier beings found their courage again. Their own Laws and Domains flared to life, wrapping around them like shimmering cloaks of defiance. This spiritual armor dampened the passive, bone-chilling effects of the god’s gaze, allowing them to stand their ground.

The confrontation remained brief. One by one, the shimmering figures of the newly ascended began to flicker and vanish, retreating from the void. While their new power gave them the arrogance to stand their ground, they were not fools. To engage two gods who had mastered their divinity decades ago, beings who had inhabited the celestial heights while their mortals selves were still crawling toward the Sixth Tier was a death sentence.

Any further provocation would have granted Ikem and Maul the divine permission to strike, and in that exchange, only the gods would remain. Sensing the window of opportunity closing, the "beings" slipped back into the mortal world, leaving the space hollow and silent.

Ikem and Maul turned to one another, their shared gaze heavy with a dark, lingering grimace.

The words of their father regarding the "coming time" now echoed with a terrifying clarity. They finally understood the burden of their lineage. The birth of their brother hadn’t just brought a new life into the world, it had painted a target on their entire family.

They realized then that their current strength, as vast as it seemed to the world below, was no longer enough.

Mortal could now reach them. To uphold their status, to secure their positions, and most importantly to protect a younger brother whose very existence invited the wrath of the world, they needed to ascend further. They needed a level of power that could silence with a gaze.

Deep within the shifting shadows of the Underworld, the Origin Gods had already gathered. The moment Keles went into labor, they had crossed the threshold of the divine realms, appearing in her sanctuary before a single blink could pass.

Mahu took her role with a fierce, quiet intensity. She moved to Keles’s side, recognizing the weight of the moment, for the first time, the Goddess of Death was experiencing a natural birth. Reaching out, Mahu channeled her divinity of Motherhood, her blessing acting as a steadying anchor that guided Keles through the raw, agonizing process of bringing new life into existence.

Standing further back, the male gods Crepuscular and Jaus wore expressions of profound unease. Hearing their sister, a being of absolute power struggling and crying out in pain was a jarring, "weird" sensation that neither knew how to process.

They watched in silence as the child finally emerged, followed immediately by the global piercing cry. But when the ripples of that cry were met with the coordinated, murderous intent of the mortal world, the Underworld itself seemed to shudder.

In that instant, the air turned frigid. Crepuscular’s hand twitched, his power ready to flash-sear the atmosphere and turn the entire crust of the planet into jagged glass. Beside him, Jaus stood like a coiled spring, his essence prepared to summon a deluge that would flood the world until not a single mountain peak remained.

Only the sight of Ikenga and Keles asserting their own overwhelming protection stayed their hands. The apocalypse was averted, but the message was clear: the world of Nana had come dangerously close to being erased for its insolence.

A heavy, contemplative silence settled over the Underworld as the Origin Gods watched Ikenga and Keles cradle the newborn. The air was still thick with the residue of averted catastrophes. Both had always known this day would come, that a child born of such divergent and absolute domains would be hunted from his very first breath.

Among them, Crepuscular was the most visibly shaken. His eyes, which moments ago had been ready to turn the world to glass, were now clouded with a different kind of intensity. With a child of his own on the way, the reality of the mortal world’s malice hit him with newfound weight. He wondered if his own offspring would face the same scrutiny, the same cold blades of fate. More importantly, he wondered if he possessed his brother’s restraint or if his own wrath would have already left the world a scorched, silent tomb.

While Mahu remained by the bedside, her divinity of motherhood acting as a soothing balm for the exhausted Keles, Ikenga turned.

With the child held securely in his arms, Ikenga walked toward his brothers. The terrifying aura of the protective father had vanished, replaced by the soft, glowing pride of a parent. A loving smile played on his lips as he approached Crepuscular and Jaus.

"This is your nephew," Ikenga said, his voice a low, resonant hum of affection. "The God of Stagnation and Succession."

With a trusting gesture, he handed the small, fragile bundle to Jaus. The god who had been ready to drown the world reached out, his massive, world-shaping hands moving with an unexpected, trembling gentleness as he took the child.

Watching the normally turbulent Jaus handle the infant with such exaggerated care, Ikenga spoke, his voice soft "I would like for you to name him, brother."

The air seemed to still. Jaus froze, his eyes widening as he looked up from the bundle in his arms. Confusion flickered across his face, replaced by a rare flash of humility. "Me?" he whispered, as if the request itself were a weight he wasn’t prepared to carry.

"Yes," Ikenga reaffirmed.

Beside them, Jaus’s gaze darted toward Crepuscular. In his mind, he believed the honor should have fallen to the brother who was closest to Ikenga, the one who had stood ready to turn the world to glass. But Crepuscular only met his gaze with a serene, knowing smile. He reached out, giving Jaus’s shoulder an encouraging, firm tap, silently yielding the honor to him.

Jaus looked back down at the boy. The child was sleeping peacefully now, his tiny chest rising and falling, oblivious to the fact that his birth had nearly triggered an apocalypse. Jaus remained silent for a long time, searching for a name that could bridge the gap between the child’s contradictory nature and the dark majesty of his parents.

Finally, he spoke, his voice carrying a weight that resonated through the Underworld.

"Ikelos," Jaus declared. "A name to honor the blood of both mother and father. And a name that those arrogant Sixth-Tier mortals will eventually learn to whisper only in fear."

"Ikelos," Ikenga repeated, the name rolling off his tongue with a sense of rightness. He nodded at Jaus, his expression softening. "It is a fine name, brother. I am certain he will carry it with the pride it deserves."

However, as the joy of the naming settled, Ikenga noticed Crepuscular standing slightly apart. His brother’s gaze was distant, his mind clearly drifting far from the celebration in the Underworld.

Ikenga moved toward him, offering a firm nudge to his shoulder. "You look disturbed, brother," Ikenga said, his voice dropping to a private, concerned tone.

Crepuscular started slightly, meeting Ikenga’s eyes. "I apologize," he said, his voice laced with a rare tremor of uncertainty. "On such a grand day, I find myself unable to fully bask in its glory." He looked over at the infant Ikelos, still sleeping in Jaus’s massive arms. "I cannot stop thinking of Xerosis. When the time comes for her to bring my child into this world... will it be like this? Will the world rise to hunt them before they even breathe?"