NOVPUB
Chapter 357: 357
The ape began retracing his steps along the path he had come from, noticing how it had changed. This time, no images were forced into his mind, allowing him to appreciate the view from the tree fully.
From his high vantage point, he looked out over the realm, taking in the enchanting scene: magical creatures prancing about and a flower-like sun hanging in the sky.
He sat down, appreciating the sight before him, then shook his head and stood up. He needed to return to the spirit realm and share this discovery with his people.
They had once abandoned the pursuit of knowledge, but what he had experienced today would rekindle that flame. Taking one last look at the realm, he stepped through the portal, which closed quietly behind him.
The ape emerged from the portal, the ethereal glow fading as he returned to the spirit realm. He felt the weight of his transformation settle over him, a tangible reminder of the change he had undergone. This knowledge, this new awareness—he could already sense how it would reshape his people’s lives, opening doors they hadn’t even imagined.
He took a few steps away from the portal and cast one last glance at the place he had left, the majestic tree towering in the distance, its branches disappearing into the boundless sky. A pang of loss struck him, but he knew his path now lay elsewhere, with his people. He would teach them, share the story of the sacred tree, the Oracle, and the mystical journey that had changed him forever.
Meanwhile, high above in Ikenga’s ever-expanding realm, the colossal forms of Osisi and Boros observed with curiosity and uncertainty. Osisi’s thick branches rustled thoughtfully as he looked down at the ape’s shrinking figure, then shifted his gaze to Boros.
"What does our lord have in plan for these creatures?" Osisi asked, a hint of fascination in his voice.
Boros curled slightly around Osisi, her serpentine form shimmering in the ethereal light. Her eyes held a glimmer of puzzlement, matching his question with a faint smile. "I have no idea. But knowing Ikenga, it will be full of surprises... likely for us as much as for them."
Osisi hummed thoughtfully, watching as the ape walked back into the heart of his kingdom, head held high, bearing the weight of knowledge with an air of newfound determination.
"Perhaps that is the way of creation," he murmured. "What Ikenga has done here may one day bloom into something even we cannot predict."
Boros nodded, her coils tightening as she, too, turned her gaze back to the ape and his path. "Then let us watch, Osisi. For whatever lies in their future, they will have to carve it with the strength of their will and the spark of knowledge."
In the capital city of Björn’s kingdom on the Northern continent, Yuki was meeting with Olaf, while Finn was notably absent.
This had become a recurring scene, a result of ongoing disagreements about the changes happening among the people of Björn. Initially, Finn had supported these changes, believing they would bring greatness to his god, Björn.
But as the transformation continued, Finn began to realize how far it deviated from the path Björn had once set for them. In Finn’s view, his people were meant to be simple, and he saw no need for them to overuse their intelligence. He believed that only certain individuals—those like him and Olaf, the chosen leaders—were called upon to use their intellect. Tragically, many of their greatest generals had fallen in the war, leaving a gap that had once been filled by seasoned warriors.
Yet, with the changes Yuki was introducing, everyone now seemed eager to display their intelligence, complicating the once simple way of life. While this shift might have been celebrated by others, Finn felt it wasn’t meant for his people. They were warriors, meant to revel in bloodshed, to procreate, and to embrace chaos.
Since that night they bathed in the pit of blood, they had transcended their human nature, so why should they now strive to become more human? Seeing the changes in his people, Finn chose to distance himself.
As a result, the capital had become divided into two factions. Many of Björn’s people, unhappy with the shift, were relieved to see a higher-up like Finn aligning with their views, and so they rallied under his banner.
This rift in the capital between Yuki’s faction and Finn’s faction highlights a deepening ideological divide. Yuki, with her vision of evolution and refinement, represents a new era of progress, encouraging the people of Björn to engage their intelligence, pursue peace, and build a society that aspires to be more than the primal warriors they once were. In contrast, Finn embodies the old ways, seeing Björn’s people as simple and bloodthirsty, their true essence lying in chaos, combat, and carnal pleasures. Finn believes that trying to change their core nature will only lead to unrest.
In the room, Olaf sits across from Yuki with a determined look, his loyalty to Björn’s original order unshaken, yet his ambition keeps him allied with Yuki. However, deep down, Olaf doesn’t realize the extent of Yuki’s influence and control. The more Yuki shapes the minds of the people on his side of the city, the more Olaf’s grip on power slips, as his followers’ loyalty shifts subtly to Yuki.
The division in the city grows increasingly stark. On Yuki’s side, the people adopt a structured, disciplined lifestyle that shuns weaponry and embraces intellect and collaboration. They’ve adopted new customs, studying, refining their skills, and abandoning the chaotic rituals that were once integral to their identity. Cleanliness, order, and intellectual pursuits become symbols of the new life Yuki envisions for Björn’s people—a life that some embrace, seeing it as a form of liberation from the violence and bloodshed that once defined them.
Meanwhile, Finn’s territory remains raw and untamed. His followers relish their freedom to express themselves in ways that are violent, intense, and chaotic. Blood stains the streets, and raw passions spill over into open displays of strength and dominance. Conflict, Finn argues, is their true nature, and anything else would mean rejecting who they are.
With his clarity restored by the renewed faith of his followers, Björn turned his attention back to his kingdom. He recognized that he should have better prepared his people for his ascension; had he done so, it might not have been so easy for Murmur’s daughter to infiltrate and attempt to sway them.
Thankfully, he still had loyal followers who remained true to his path. Björn shared Finn’s beliefs and vision—not only because he was the creator of this way of life but also because it aligned with his divinity.
Though his domains of warfare and insanity were a double-edged sword, Björn believed he had taken enough precautions to control them. The gauntlet he had claimed from the woman, though it bit steadily into his hand, helped him maintain his sanity.
The unstable factor, however, was the raw faith energy he now possessed. He was keenly aware of the limitations faced by ascended gods, in contrast to those who were born divine.
Björn’s current predicament was a delicate and dangerous one. The unrefined faith energy flowing into him was like a chaotic torrent, each fragment tainted with conflicting mortal desires, fears, and misconceptions. Without a proper filter, it was destabilizing, threatening to erode his clarity and amplify the instability already tied to his domains of warfare and insanity.
As a former demon, Björn’s memories of ascended gods were clear warnings. Newly ascended deities often fell into the trap of greed, believing every scrap of faith energy would make them stronger. Inevitably, they learned how wrong they were when their personalities began to fragment, their minds consumed by the very power they craved.
The older ascended gods, however, had learned the value of restraint. They carefully cultivated their followers, allowing faith energy to flow naturally as a byproduct of mortals living in alignment with their divine principles. This refined energy, shaped by devotion to their true essence, was far more stable and sustaining than the chaotic flood of blind prayers.
Björn knew this was the path he should take. Despite never establishing a formal religion or church during his time in the mortal world, his leadership had already defined a way of life for his people. They followed the ideals he embodied—strength in battle, unbridled passion, and chaotic revelry. This alignment with his essence had set him on his divine path.
But Murmur had upended everything. By sending his daughter Yuki, Murmur had introduced new ideals, redefining Björn’s religion into something alien. Yuki’s influence had made his people question their way of life, leading them to embrace concepts of intelligence, structure, and progress—values that clashed with Björn’s essence. Worse, the faith energy generated from this new belief system was being forced onto him, raw and incompatible with his divinity.
Björn couldn’t simply reject the faith energy—it was a natural consequence of his ascension. Yet the more he absorbed, the more he felt its effects: an encroaching sense of disharmony and disconnection from his original purpose. The gauntlet on his hand, though it anchored his sanity for now, was not a permanent solution. If he didn’t find a way to filter or redirect this energy, the risk of losing himself to the madness of unrefined power would only grow.
