NOVPUB
Chapter 295: 295
The aftermath of the apelings’ brutal strike was like a shockwave, reverberating through the human settlements. The sun rose on a town changed forever. The once-bustling streets were now filled with hushed whispers, pale faces, and the weight of a grim realization. Loved ones had vanished overnight, their places in homes left cold and empty. Those who knew the secret allegiances of their fallen family members—Björn’s followers—turned pale with fear, rushing to the outskirts of the town.
What awaited them was beyond their worst imaginings. Bodies, or what was left of them, lay scattered, their brutalized forms barely recognizable. Blood still soaked the earth, and the scent of death hung heavy in the air. Mothers wept uncontrollably, fathers stared blankly in horror, and the townspeople, once emboldened by the promises of Björn’s power, were reduced to broken shells. Panic spread like wildfire. The followers of Björn, once confident in their growing power, now felt the icy grip of fear.
Rumors of the apelings’ swift retribution spread far and wide. No longer were they seen as the peaceful children of the gods, easy to manipulate or take advantage of. The image of their passive nature, exploited by humans who sought to use their divine bloodline, was shattered in a few nights of violent justice. The humans, and their leaders, quickly realized their mistake. It was as though cold water had been poured over their reckless ambitions.
In the Omadi kingdom, Nwadiebube received the reports of the carnage with a mixture of disbelief and fear. The sheer ruthlessness of the apelings took him by surprise. He had always assumed that their peaceful demeanor comes from them disliking war and bloodshed. But now, the truth was clear—they were capable of terrifying retribution when provoked. For a brief moment, panic gripped him. Had he gone too far in allowing the religion of Björn to spread unchecked? Had his ambition blinded him to the danger that lurked just beyond his borders?
As more information reached him, Nwadiebube began to understand the true meaning behind the apelings’ actions. They were not looking for war. They did not want to involve themselves in the petty conflicts of humans. But they would not tolerate being hunted, manipulated, or used as tools for power. The message was clear: as long as the humans left them alone, they would remain indifferent. But should the humans dare to cross that line again, there would be no mercy.
Armed with this knowledge, Nwadiebube took decisive action. He summoned the priest of Björn, his expression cold and unyielding. The room filled with tension as the priest, still confident in his growing influence, tried to argue his position.
"This is a sign from Björn," the priest insisted. "The apelings are nothing compared to the divine power we are—"
"Silence!" Nwadiebube’s voice cut through the room, sharp as a blade. The priests fell silent, taken aback by the sudden shift in his demeanor.
"Do you not understand?" Nwadiebube growled, his eyes burning with intensity. "The apelings will not hesitate to destroy us if we continue down this path. I will not risk the safety of my kingdom for your misguided ambitions. From this moment forward, no one—no one—is to lay a hand on the children of the gods."
The priest, used to wielding influence through fear and promises of power, began to protest, but Nwadiebube would not hear it. "If you defy me, if you or your followers continue to pursue this madness, I will end our cooperation. And I will see to it that the full force of my kingdom crushes your order before you can even blink."
The priest, hearing that, turned silent. If he was to lose the safety of the Omadi and his kingdom, the success rate of his mission would fall and he fears the repercussions of the higher ups. Nwadiebube’s reputation as a strategic and ruthless leader has been well known to him after spending some time with him. He realized that he was not bluffing. Reluctantly, he agreed, vowing to relay the message to the rest of Björn’s followers.
With the Omadi kingdom now distancing itself from the dangerous ambitions of Björn’s priest, the children of the gods became a subject of taboo once more. Fear of the apelings spread like wildfire through the human population. The once-rising power of Björn’s religion now faltered, as many of its followers began to question whether the power they sought was worth the risk of invoking the wrath of divine bloodlines.
The humans, once emboldened by their growing influence, were reminded of an unshakable truth: the children of the gods were always watching, and they would not hesitate to strike down those who dared to challenge their dominion. The nightmarish memory of every brutal night lingered in the minds of all who had witnessed it—a chilling reminder that some forces, no matter how peaceful they may seem, were not to be trifled with.
Ikem chuckled as he drained the last of his wine, feeling the warmth of both the drink and the pride swelling within him. His son Zephyr stood beside him, a reflection of youthful strength and wisdom that Ikem had come to rely on more and more over the years. The echoes of his booming laughter reverberated through the grand halls of the apeling palace, a stark contrast to the tense atmosphere of the human settlements below the mountain.
"Ah, my son," Ikem said, setting the cup down on the polished wooden steel table before him. "Perhaps I’ve spent too long trying to protect our people from the world, assuming they needed shielding. It seems I was the one who forgot the blood that runs through their veins."
Zephyr nodded, his own smile widening. "Father, our people carry the blood of gods. It’s in our nature to face challenges, not hide from them. You’ve always taught us that we should avoid needless bloodshed. But the humans don’t understand that avoiding conflict isn’t the same as fearing it. The minute they saw our patience as weakness, they sealed their fate"
Ikem leaned back in his chair, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of pride and newfound understanding. "For centuries, I believed that our position of isolation in these mountains was our greatest advantage. I believed that by keeping our people distant from the conflicts and influences of outsiders, we could maintain our way of life—our purity. But this... this situation with Björn’s followers has shown me something different. Our people aren’t just passive observers of the world; they are actors in it. And when their divine privilege is challenged, they will act. Brutally, if need be."
Zephyr poured his father another drink, the liquid shimmering in the golden cup. Ikem took the cup "I suppose I needed this reminder. We are not like the humans. Their greed, their thirst for power—it blinds them. They forgot that our people carry the legacy of gods. And when that legacy is threatened, our people will rise, not out of anger, but out of duty. Out of pride."
Zephyr’s smile took on a fiercer edge. "Exactly, father. We’ve been patient, but patience doesn’t mean submission. We would have watched as they fumbled with their petty religions and power struggles. But now, they’ve overreached. Our people will remind them of the balance. That they are not the top of the food chain."
Ikem’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he swirled the wine in his cup. "It’s interesting, isn’t it? For so long, I’ve tried to avoid this—tried to keep our people uninvolved in the mess of human affairs. Yet, despite my efforts, they were drawn into it. And not only did they rise to the occasion, they did so with a precision and ferocity that even I hadn’t anticipated."
Zephyr leaned forward, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "Father, the world is changing. The humans are growing bolder, and as much as they fear us now, there will be others like Björn’s followers who will test us again"
Ikem studied his son’s face for a moment, the pride in his chest swelling further. Zephyr was right. The world beyond the mountains had shifted, and perhaps it was time for the apeling kingdom to shift with it. Not by stepping into every conflict or asserting dominance over others, but by embracing the truth of who they were. They were children of gods, and that legacy was both their privilege and their responsibility.
Ikem sighed deeply, the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him. The joy that should have come with the news of ascension was muted by the gravity of the situation. For centuries, he and his fellow demigods had built a legacy—a world for their children to thrive in, far from the meddling of humans and the invaders. But now, with ascension on the horizon, that world felt fragile.
He glanced at Zephyr, who still stood beside him, unaware of the storm brewing in his father’s mind. Ikem’s heart swelled with love for his son and other children, but also with a deep worry. Would Zephyr and the other children of the gods be ready to face what was coming? Could they protect the kingdom in the face of the rising human threat and the divine forces that would soon collide?.
