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Chapter 331: 331
Mala, a lean, black-furred werewolf with silver markings tracing her armor, smirked. "Let them have their fantasies, Korak. They’ll need something to dream about when they’re watching us from the loser’s seats." She gave a teasing wink to the apeling crowd, which erupted into more jeers and cheers.
One particularly rowdy apeling, balancing a plate of snacks on his head, stood up and yelled, "Oi, Mala! How’s that fur treating you in the heat? I bet you’re dying to jump into a cold bath after wearing that heavy armor!"
Mala rolled her eyes playfully. "Please. This ’heavy armor’ keeps me warm while you lot are shivering under your banana-leaf capes. But don’t worry, after I win, I might toss you a fur blanket to cuddle up with."
The apelings laughed, their playful mocking continuing. "We’ll need it after we bury you in the first match!" another one shouted, pointing a finger at Korak.
Korak pretended to stumble, clutching his chest dramatically. "Oh no, not the first match! Anything but that!" he howled in exaggerated fear, then shot a grin back at the apeling. "You should worry about making it past the first match yourselves, you little tree rats!"
The apelings reveled in the friendly banter, and soon they were all on their feet, mock-growling and howling like wolves, their voices blending into a wild, gleeful symphony. The crowd swayed and swirled, with some even beating their chests in mock ferocity, embracing the playful rivalry. The werewolves, despite their imposing stature, couldn’t hold back their amusement. They exchanged toothy grins and exaggerated snarls, joining in on the lighthearted taunts with their own guttural chuckles.
Amongst the excitement, Wulv, like Drowz before him, made his way up to where Ikenga and Ursula sat, taking his seat beside the two demigods. His sharp gaze occasionally flicked down toward the arena, but his thoughts were elsewhere.
Ursula, however, was distant, her eyes narrowing slightly as she observed Ikem, who sat relaxed, an apeling attendant dutifully refilling his wine cup. She leaned closer to him, her voice low but laced with a note of concern. "You’ve changed, Ikem. What happened?"
Ikem turned toward her, his once piercing gaze now slightly glazed, as though he were seeing past her. "The same could be said of you, my love. You’ve changed too."
She sighed softly, wrapping her fingers around his arm as she looked down at the lively crowd. The apelings were carefree, their joy unburdened by the gravity that seemed to hang over the demigods. "Do you think our change is a good thing?"
Ikem swirled his wine thoughtfully before taking a sip. "Whether it’s good or not, it won’t matter once we’re gone. We can only trust them to handle things on their own, as they’ve clearly shown us." His voice carried a mix of resignation and calm acceptance, as if the weight of leadership had slowly lifted from his shoulders.
Ever since Ikem began considering passing the mantle to Zephyr, something had shifted within him. A restraint, long held, had been released. He no longer attend council meetings, no longer concerned himself with the mundane politics of the court. Instead, his days were spent in quiet leisure, either beside Ursula or lost in the depths of his wine goblet. To some, it might have seemed a dereliction of duty, but to Ikem, it was a newfound freedom. He had fulfilled his responsibilities as both a demigod and a king for centuries, guiding his people, protecting them from threats both internal and external, and avoiding the scourge of conflict whenever possible.
He had even allowed a demon, disguised as one of their own, to live amongst them for a time—choosing peace over war. But when the demon’s true nature was revealed, Ikem had been forced to end its existence with his own hands.
He had shielded them from so much. But now, with the inevitable pull of godhood calling him higher, Ikem knew he couldn’t protect them forever. Conflict was a force that could not be held at bay indefinitely. His people, however, had come to understand this. They had shown him that they were capable of standing on their own, no longer needing his constant protection.
That understanding had brought a subtle change to Ikem, an unconscious release of the power he had been holding back for so long. Now, he stood at the threshold of ascension, ready to move beyond this mortal plane—but he wanted to savor the world he had helped build a little while longer.
Across the arena, Wulv and Drowz, who had settled into their seats, exchanged a glance. Both young godlings couldn’t help but notice the state of Ikem and Ursula. It wasn’t unfamiliar to them. Their own parents had adopted the same distant, transcendent air.
An unspoken understanding passed between them as they watched the two demigods—Wulv’s brow furrowed slightly, and Drowz’s usual sharpness softened into something akin to sympathy. They knew, without having been told, that this day—this gathering—was more significant than it appeared on the surface.
The festival, the competition, and the excitement of the crowd... it all masked a deeper truth: This was their parents way of telling them that they are leaving and hope they can keep the comraderie they have built for the past centuries.
The air around the arena began to shift, the celebratory mood lingering but subtly giving way to anticipation as the next part of the festival loomed. It was time to introduce the main players—the cursed clans of the apelings, whose elemental prowess had earned them respect and reverence from all corners of the realm. They were the living embodiment of their elements.
A gift they received from their god Ikenga, a gift every apeling wish they had been blessed with. A hush fell over the crowd as the Ripple Clan made their entrance, the first of the cursed apeling groups to appear. Known for their striking beauty among all apelings, both male and female members of the Ripple Clan were admired for their graceful appearances. Their fur shimmered in shades reminiscent of water—deep blues and silvers—but there were a few exceptions, some having pure white fur. With their arrival, the air grew cool and damp, a subtle reminder of their elemental bond to water.
At the front of the clan was Ripple, their princess and leader. Her deep blue eyes, calm and confident, shone beneath her royal garb as she took her place with quiet dignity. The crowd erupted into cheers at the sight of her, their beloved leader. Ripple’s serene smile grew as she cast a glance toward Wulv, who returned her look with equal intensity, a silent connection passing between them. She made her way toward him, ignoring Ikem, who shook his head with an amused smile at the unspoken interaction.
Next came the Terra Clan, their entrance heavier and more grounded. As they approached, the earth seemed to vibrate beneath their feet, reflecting their connection to the very ground they walked on. These apelings were among the largest and strongest of all, their broad shoulders and powerful builds marked with glowing cracks that resembled rich soil and stone. In their ranks, the Terra Clan was known for their towering figures—except in rare cases of mutation—and they carried a steady, unwavering presence.
Their leader, Terra, even larger than most of his clan, walked with a calm, easy grace that belied his size. Despite his immense bulk, there was no heavy thud to his steps. His air of steadiness made him approachable, a quiet power that commanded respect without force. Suddenly, a young apeling girl, carried by the excitement, slipped from her mother’s arms and tumbled toward the clan’s entrance. Her mother screamed, but before panic could set in, stones gently formed around the child, cushioning her fall.
The little girl giggled, reaching out her hands toward Terra, who effortlessly lifted her and placed her on his shoulder. He raised his arms to the crowd, and they responded with a thunderous cheer, their admiration of their leader clear.
The final entrance was that of the Zephyr Clan, and their arrival was announced by a sudden gust of wind. The arena was filled with the sound of rustling cloaks and swirling dust, causing the crowd to tense, as if bracing for the inevitable prank. The apelings instinctively shielded their clothes as colorful dust fell around them in playful bursts.
As the dust cleared, the Zephyr Clan had already gathered in the arena, grinning mischievously. Known for their light-hearted nature and their playful affinity with the wind, the Zephyr apelings were difficult to pin down, always darting about like the very breeze they controlled. They were notorious for their pranks, but their charm made it hard for anyone to stay upset for long.
Zephyr, the clan leader, was already seated beside Wulv, Drowz, Ripple, and Terra, laughing to himself at the spectacle he’d created. His siblings rolled their eyes at his antics, though even they couldn’t suppress their amusement at his playful demeanor.
