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Chapter 280: 280
Another effect was the abundance of nature, which was slowly waning with Ikenga gone. Previously, with Ikenga’s presence, nature had embodied abundance and vitality, a flourishing reminder of the balance and harmony that once prevailed. The forests, once lush and vibrant, now appeared increasingly weary. The rivers, which had flowed with a ceaseless, joyous rush, seemed to move with a more subdued and hesitant pace. The vibrant colors of the flowers and the robust growth of the trees had started to pale, as if nature itself was mourning the loss of its beloved guardian.
Jaws, whose divine responsibility is to ensure the lands are nourished with mana-filled rains, felt the weight of his new role more heavily than ever before. The absence of Ikenga, his brother had left a void that none of them had anticipated. Jaws, Brix, and Aqua, now fully ascended spirits, were doing everything in their power to preserve nature, but the challenges were growing.
The forest fire was unlike anything they had faced before. The flames, born from the battles of magical creatures with fire-related abilities, had always been a part of the forest’s natural cycle. But without Ikenga’s presence to contain them, the fires began to spread uncontrollably, threatening the delicate balance of the ecosystem.
Jaws, Aqua, and Brix found themselves in a constant state of vigilance. Jaws summoned rain to douse the flames, but without the precision of Ikenga’s control, the rains sometimes came too late or becomes too much causing more damage.
Meanwhile, on the southern continent, Wardenwild faced his own struggles. Tasked by Keles to ensure the safety of souls in the afterlife, he had always been meticulous in his duty. However, Murmur’s growing influence over the souls around him was a threat Wardenwild couldn’t ignore. He hardly let go of souls around him as he grabs them to recover.
Wardenwild, realizing the severity of the situation, made the difficult decision to leave the spirit realm and establish his presence on the southern continent. His goal was clear: hinder Murmur’s progress and protect the souls from being consumed. But this decision came at a cost. With Wardenwild’s focus solely on the southern continent, other regions began to suffer from his absence. His children, who had always relied on his guidance, struggled to manage the tasks left to them. Unlike before where souls goes directly to the underworld because the gate is opne, now they roam around aimlessly in the physcial world. The living began to notice strange occurrences—ethereal whispers in the night, glimpses of figures that vanished in the blink of an eye, and an overwhelming sense of unease that pervaded the air every night.
The absence of their two siblings also created a two big hole in the shield surrounding their world, and that was the feeling on discomfort mostly come from presurring the other gods.
Mahu, the goddess of Motherhood, was particularly affected. She had always felt a deep connection with Ikenga, whose presence had been a source of stability and comfort. His absence left her with a sense of loss that grew more unbearable with each passing day. As her emotions fluctuated, so too did her divine influence over childbirth. Pregnant women across all races began to experience complications, and the once joyous occasion of birth became fraught with danger. The birth rate plummeted, and families across the land grew anxious, unsure of what had caused this sudden change.
When her siblings noticed the unsettling changes in the world—complications during childbirth, a plummeting birth rate, and the growing anxiety among families—they approached Mahu with concern. They gently informed her of the effects her sorrow was having on the world, hoping that awareness might help her regain control over her divine influence.
Mahu listened, her heart heavy with the weight of their words. She hadn’t realized just how deeply her emotions were affecting the balance of life itself. Determined to make amends, she tried to calm her mind and focus on her duties. And for a time, it seemed to work—the severe complications during childbirth lessened, and the immediate danger to mothers and infants began to recede.
However, despite these improvements, the overall birth rate remained stagnant. The joy that once accompanied the news of a pregnancy was replaced by a pervasive sense of dread, as families feared for the health of both mother and child.
Mahu’s siblings, though relieved by the reduction in complications, were troubled by the lack of progress in restoring fertility across the land. They knew that Mahu’s influence was still crucial to the balance of life, and they couldn’t afford to let the current state of affairs continue. The future of every race in their world depended on the goddess of Motherhood finding peace within herself.
Mahu, Crepuscular, and Jaws sat in Nana’s realm, their expressions heavy with the weight of their world’s predicament. Mahu, though physically present, seemed distant, her eyes glazed with a lingering sense of detachment. The once vibrant goddess of Motherhood now appeared weary, her usual warmth dulled by the absence of Ikenga. The sadness that had once consumed her had faded, but it was clear she was still far from her true self.
Crepuscular observed his siblings with a thoughtful gaze. He could see the strain in Jaws’ posture, the frustration in Mahu’s silence. It was time for action, and he knew they needed more than just their combined strength to restore balance.
"I have a proposition," Crepuscular finally said, breaking the heavy silence. His voice was calm but resolute, the tone of a god who had spent much time in contemplation. Mahu turned her head slightly towards him, her interest barely piqued, while Jaws shifted his stance, his curiosity clear.
"What do you have in mind, brother?" Jaws asked, his voice carrying a mix of hope and caution.
Crepuscular glanced between them before speaking. "I think it’s about time our children begin their ascension to godhood. With the way things are now, we need every help we can get. Our powers alone aren’t enough to manage the chaos spreading through our world. But if our children ascend, they can take on some of the responsibilities and we can focus on more dire things.
Mahu remained silent, her gaze unfocused, but Jaws leaned forward, intrigued. "Ascension?" he echoed, his mind racing with the implications. "But they’re still young. Do you really think they’re ready for such a burden?"
Crepuscular nodded, his expression resolute. "They may be young, but they are our offspring—born from gods and carrying our divine blood. We’ve trained them, guided them, and prepared them for this very possibility. With Ikenga and Keles gone, and the world falling into disorder, we can’t afford to wait any longer".
Jaws was silent for a moment, considering his brother’s words. The thought of their children assuming godhood was both daunting and necessary. The world was in turmoil, and the ascension of their children could bring fresh strength and new perspectives to the challenges they faced.
"I asked Mother about the current state of our world," Crepuscular continued, his voice steady. "She said that this is a normal occurrence when an origin god leaves their position. Our very existence is so intertwined with this world that our absence and presence make a significant difference. For example In a normal world, nature could handle itself, but here, nature is our brother. With him gone, things are out of hand."
Jaws frowned, the truth of Crepuscular’s words sinking in. "So, this is why everything is falling apart. Ikenga and Keles departure has left a void that none of us can fill alone. But if our children ascend, they might not fill the void but the could still help with a lot"
Mahu, who had been quietly listening, finally spoke up, her voice carrying a hint of warning. "Do what you must," she began, her tone measured. "But might I remind you that the mortals are making bold moves in the eastern continent?"
She turned her gaze to Crepuscular, her eyes narrowing slightly. "You should be aware of that, especially with Roland, the Sun King. He’s been moving strangely for the past year, hasn’t he?"
Crepuscular’s expression darkened at the mention of Roland. The Sun King’s actions had not gone unnoticed. "Yes," he admitted, his voice grave. "Roland has been consolidating power and acting in ways that are... unsettling".
He paused, his eyes narrowing as he continued, "But need I remind you of our counterparts? The void left by Keles and Ikenga has given them unwelcome access to our world. While we’ve been consumed with our own struggles, their presence has grown bolder. You’ve been so deep in your misery, Mahu, that you haven’t noticed the gaze from the other side constantly staring at us, waiting."
Jaws tensed at Crepuscular’s words, the implication clear. The absence of their two powerful siblings had weakened the barriers that kept their counterparts at bay—beings from the darker, opposing realm who thrived on chaos and disruption. Their attention had turned toward the gods’ world, seeking any opportunity to exploit the growing instability.
Crepuscular continued, his voice urgent, "We can’t afford to focus solely on the immediate issues left by Ikenga and Keles’ departure. Those are just symptoms of a larger problem. The true danger lies in the forces from the other side. They’ve been waiting for an opening, and now they have it. If we’re not careful, they’ll break through entirely."
