The Guardian gods-Chapter 806

Jaus offered a rare, genuine smile in return. Keles then turned her gaze toward Mahu, who had been her anchor through the labor and had watched over her while she was unconscious. With a gesture of profound trust, Keles held the child out.

"Here, sister. Hold him."

Mahu hesitated but reached out, taking the infant with practiced ease. She studied Ikelos’s features, the curve of his jaw, the way his brow furrowed even in sleep. A soft realization crossed her face. "He has his father’s look," she whispered, tracing the child’s cheek. "Even in rest, he looks as if he is dreaming of how to reshape the world."

Mahu cradled the infant, her divine essence naturally humming a lullaby. She felt the tension leave the child’s small frame as he curled deeper into her arms, instinctively recognizing the comfort of her motherhood divinity. For a brief second, the room held a fragile peace.

"We have visitors," Keles whispered, her eyes shifting toward the entrance of her chamber.

The silence was shattered by two voices crying out in unison "Mother!"

Roth and a heavily pregnant Xerosis burst into the chamber, their faces pale and etched with frantic worry. From the moment they had heard their brother’s first piercing cry, they had been racing toward the Underworld. But they had been met with a wall of absolute power, Keles’s realm had snapped into a reflexive, protective stance, sealing the boundary of life and death.

Stuck at the threshold, they had been forced to watch the spectral assault on their brother through the veil, unable to cross over or intervene without risking a catastrophic collapse that would hurt them. Only moments ago had the realm sensed the danger had passed and finally yielded to their bloodline.

Xerosis, stumbling in her haste, was immediately caught by Crepuscular. He wrapped a steadying arm around her, grounding her before she could collapse from the exertion.

"She is safe," Crepuscular murmured into her ear, his voice a firm anchor against her panic. "Your mother is safe, and so is your brother. Breathe, Xerosis. Take it easy."

Roth stood a few paces away, his chest heaving as his eyes darted from his weakened mother to the small bundle in Mahu’s arms. The transition from the "Demigod" who looked toward godhood to a terrified son and brother was instantaneous. The arrogance he had shown the world was nowhere to be found here.

As the immediate panic receded, Roth and Xerosis finally took in the full scope of the room. The realization that they had just sprinted, screaming, into a chamber filled with the most powerful beings in the word, the Origin Gods themselves, hit them all at once.

Of course the Origins would be here. They had likely arrived before the first sibilings first cry.

Both siblings flushed, a wave of sheepish embarrassment washing over them as the tension broke. The silence was broken by a booming, rhythmic sound, Jaus was laughing.

It wasn’t a mocking laugh, but one of pure amusement. He looked past the blushing heirs toward Ikenga and Crepuscular, who had been inches from a divine clash only moments ago.

"Look at them," Jaus chuckled, gesturing with a massive hand toward Roth and Xerosis. "With such fiercely protective siblings, our seeds have no need to worry about their path. They have an army before they even learn to walk."

Ikenga and Crepuscular shared a long, silent look. Jaus was right, and they knew it. It was easy to preach perspective when watching from the sidelines, but when it was your own blood on the line, even an Origin God could lose his cool.

Soon, the somber atmosphere of the birth chamber transformed into a grand, celestial celebration. Keles’s realm expanded to accommodate the arrival of the elite. The Ascended Gods began to manifest, even the Arch Curses, usually to themselves, moved through the realm with a strange, respectful quietude.

Among those present were Björn and Krogan. The former who is the first ascended god, a figure who presence seem to have been forgotten by the world, the latter Krogan who is the newly ascended god.

The atmosphere of the chamber shifted as Krogan stepped forward. Krogan carried an object of immense weight, a massive, pearlescent egg that seemed to hum with a slow, rhythmic vibration. He moved toward Keles, bowing his head in a gesture of profound respect.

"In the distant Beast Realm of Menagerie," Krogan began, his voice like multiple creatures were speaking at once, "this was found in the deepest foundations of its earth. It is the egg of a World-Shell Tortoise."

The surrounding gods leaned in, their expressions flickering with surprise. Gifts to the Origins were rare, and a gift from the Menagerie was the first.

"In many myths," Krogan continued, looking toward the sleeping Ikelos, "the tortoise carries the world upon its back. It moves so slowly that it appears to be standing still, representing Stagnation and the endurance of time. It does not rush for the future, nor does it flee the past. It simply is."

He extended his arms, offering the heavy egg. "I believe this would be a great companion and guardian for the young god. As Ikelos grows to define the succession of the world, this creature will ensure his foundation never wavers."

Keles reached out, her fingers brushing the cool, pulsing surface of the shell. She felt the small, sluggish life force within, a perfect mirror to her son’s budding divinity. With a small, appreciative nod to Krogan, "Thank you" she said as she carefully placed the egg in the cradle, tucking it right beside the sleeping Ikelos.

As if sensing the arrival of a companion, the infant shifted, his small hand coming to rest against the curve of the egg. The connection was instantaneous, the two "stagnant" souls began to breathe in a shared, slow harmony.

While the Pantheon rejoiced in the arrival of the newborn god, the mortal realm buckled under a swift change, a shift that surprised no one, yet carried an air of grim inevitability.

In the span of a few weeks, dozens of Sixth-tier powerhouses ascended, their sudden rise reshaping the world’s balance. For these newly minted beings, the raw magnitude of the power they now gripped was a double-edged sword, it terrified them even as it emboldened their wildest ambitions.

Among them, animosity toward Osita simmered. Yet, buried beneath that resentment was a begrudging respect. They finally grasped the sheer discipline required for his restraint, recognizing him now as one of the world’s first true Sixth-tier existences.

If not for the recent incident that forced his hand, Osita’s full capabilities had remained a mystery. To the world, he had been nothing more than a benevolent sovereign, a loving king devoted to his wife and family. Now, the mask of the "gentle ruler" had slipped, leaving the new powerhouses to wonder just how much more he was truly hiding.

The power shift in the mortal kingdoms was instantaneous and absolute. Many of the newly ascended Sixth-tier beings had once been mere court mages, loyal head knights, or subordinate nobles. But with their ascension came a corrosive arrogance, no Sixth-tier existence was willing to remain on bended knee before a mortal king.

To their new eyes, mortals were no longer peers or masters,they were merely flesh and bone, materials to be reshaped according to the powerhouse’s perceived reality. A Sixth-tier wood elementalist, for instance, could no longer fathom taking orders from a man they could effortlessly transform into a rose bush with a single thought.

The realization that they were being commanded by creatures whose very existence could be redesigned at their whim sparked a deep, visceral disgust. The old social contracts didn’t just break, they dissolved, replaced by a hierarchy dictated solely by the scale of one’s soul.

As if by a grand, unspoken design, the power structure of the entire mortal realm collapsed overnight. Royal lineages that had endured for centuries saw their authority vanish in an instant, their edicts became nothing more than empty breath. Governments naturally attempted to strike back, but their resistance was a hollow gesture. Across the globe, Sixth-tier beings were seen calmly strolling into the heart of imperial palaces, unbothered by the legions of royal guards standing in their path.

The futility of the old world was absolute. Without so much as raising a hand to shield themselves, these new higher beings remained untouched, no blade, no arrow, and no manner of Fifth-tier spell could so much as crease their robes or halt their steady stride.

It was, in essence, a dimensionality strike. To a Sixth-tier existence, anything belonging to a lower tier, be it a legendary weapon or a master-level incantation had ceased to have meaning. The only entities capable of making them pause were the followers of the divine gods.

The spells of the devout were the only forces that caused a raised brow, for that power descended from a source no lower than the Sixth-tier themselves. In a single night of terror and revelation, the world learned a new, absolute law, only a Sixth-tier being, wielding their own personal Law, could ever hope to challenge another.