The Guardian gods

Chapter 412: 412

A bitter resentment simmered within him. The absurdity of it all struck him: he was planning war games, strategizing troop movements and siege tactics, while beings of immense power were engaged in a struggle of cosmic proportions. It felt trivial, almost insulting. He envisioned himself as a child playing with toy soldiers while a storm raged overhead.

"They think they can handle everything themselves," he muttered to the empty room, his voice laced with frustration. "They think they can keep us in the dark, protect us like children. But I will not be protected. I will not be kept in the dark."

He paced the room, his mind racing. He understood the apelings’ desire for secrecy, their need to operate without interference. But he also felt a burning need to contribute, to prove his worth, to show the godlings that he was not just a king of men, but a force to be reckoned with.

"If they want to fight their secret war," he thought, "then I will fight my own. I will expand my kingdom, amass power, and make myself impossible to ignore. When the dust settles, they will see what I have accomplished. They will see that I am not a child to be protected, but an ally to be reckoned with."

Nwadiebeube wasn’t the only king to receive this message—Osita did as well. Major kingdoms across different continents were sent the same warning, even Murmur, who had believed his presence had long been forgotten.

The entire world was in agreement about the plans of the demigods. Even Murmur, who had stepped back from the mortal realm and refrained from exploiting the situation, realized there was nothing to gain if everything was lost to the gods’ counterparts.

The only one planning to make a move was Björn, who received the message from Mahu. For him, there was no better time to insert himself and his ambitions than when the world’s attention was consumed by the demigods.

Björn had decided that Yuki would bear his child, who would ascend to the throne of the Björn Kingdom. This child would stabilize the kingdom’s fractured structure and establish it as one of the powerhouses of the Northern Continent, alongside the werewolves and humans of the Silver Kingdom.

Change was occurring rapidly with the coming ascension of the demigods. Björn knew that the origin gods would no longer focus as intently on the mortal realm, as one of their primary concerns—the safety of their children—was now addressed. With the ascensions underway, this concern was no longer relevant.

For mortals who understood the implications of this shift, they recognized it as their moment to rise and cement their positions. Without the weight and constant oversight of the demigods and gods, it was no surprise that the world would soon fall into a constant state of war.

Björn was not surprised by the changes unfolding. As a former demon who had ascended to godhood, he likened the situation to the power struggles that occurred among demon lords who conquered layers of the Abyss.

In these new positions of power, their perspective broadened to encompass grander schemes. Souls and fleeting gains of power became lesser interests.

The new game for beings like these was no longer confined to mortals or realms—it was about planets and worlds scattered across the universe, as well as the steady and unshakable defense of their positions.

The new game for beings like these was no longer confined to mortals or realms—it was about planets and worlds scattered across the universe, as well as the steady and unshakable defense of their positions.

Take, for example, a high-tier demon known as the Prince of the Abyss. His title wasn’t merely a reflection of his strength; it spoke to the nature of his domain—a layer of the Abyss that was a universe unto itself. His game differed entirely from that of the origin gods, whom he viewed as insignificant compared to the vastness of his own influence.

The same would apply to the origin gods themselves once their two siblings returned. Their perspective and understanding of existence would inevitably expand, and with it, their game would evolve. No longer concerned with the petty struggles of mortals, their attention would turn to even greater cosmic endeavors.

In contrast to this were the ascended gods, like Björn, and the soon-to-ascend demigods. The waning interest of the origin gods presented an opportunity—and a threat. For ascended gods, faith was the lifeblood of their existence, and the divine fire of faith from mortals couldn’t afford to be extinguished. Where the origin gods saw irrelevance, the ascended gods saw necessity.

Björn, in particular, understood this dynamic all too well. He knew that the shift in divine attention would leave a vacuum, one that the ascended gods would fiercely compete to fill. The demigods, on the verge of their transformation, would soon join this struggle, vying for power and influence in a world no longer governed by the old gods’ watchful eyes.

The mortal realm would feel the weight of this competition. Faith, once a source of solace and guidance, would become a commodity—a resource harvested by ascended beings to fuel their strength and secure their positions. Temples would rise, wars would be waged, and alliances would form, all in service of these ascended gods who now stood as the caretakers of divine presence.

Björn’s ambitions placed him squarely at the center of this new order. For him, the ascension of the demigods wasn’t a threat—it was an opportunity. He had already positioned himself to claim the faith and loyalty of the Northern Continent, using Yuki as a key piece in his plans.

In this chaotic landscape, mortals, too, would be forced to adapt. Those who understood the shifting tides of power would rise to prominence, while others would be swept away by the coming storm. The world was no longer a place of balance and peace; it was a crucible of change, forged by the ambitions of gods, demons, and mortals alike.

And as the first sparks of war began to ignite, one truth became undeniable: the era of divine oversight was over. What came next would be determined not by the gods of old, but by those who dared to grasp the reins of power in this newly untethered world.

A week before the demigods have to carry out the plans, the Björn kingdom was determined to take a strong step in their stautus. Meanwhile behind the scence this was a well detailed plan laid out by both Björn and Yuki.

The air in Björn’s great hall was heavy with the tension of expectation. The banners of the god of insanity and warfare, adorned with chaotic patterns and streaks of red, hung from the high ceilings. Yuki stood at the center of it all, her mind steady despite the weight of what lay ahead.

She had been aware of the rift within Björn’s kingdom since her arrival. There were those who saw her as a herald of change, a symbol of progress and stability, while others whispered of betrayal, accusing her of dulling the edge of Björn’s legacy. The alliance she and Björn had forged was fragile, held together by a delicate balance of mutual need and ambition.

Now, the time had come to prove her worth—not just to Björn, but to his people.

The Colosseum was sacred ground, a testament to the kingdom’s devotion to their god. It was a place where blood spilled freely, where warriors fought not for survival but for the sheer glory of chaos. To participate was to embrace the essence of Björn’s teachings. For Yuki, this was more than just a test of strength; it was a statement to both her allies and her detractors.

In her private quarters, Yuki prepared for the trial ahead. Her armor, forged from dark iron and inscribed with runes of protection, gleamed under the flickering torchlight. She ran her fingers along its edges, feeling the weight of each piece as it settled onto her body.

"You’re certain about this?" asked Kalen, her trusted advisor. He had been a staunch supporter of her since the beginning but had grown increasingly concerned about the demands placed on her.

"I have no choice," Yuki replied, fastening the last strap of her gauntlet. "The Colosseum is more than a tradition; it’s a crucible. If I fail to honor it, I’ll lose the trust of those who cling to the old ways. Björn’s kingdom will fracture, and everything we’ve worked for will crumble."

Kalen frowned but nodded. He handed her a blade, its surface etched with Björn’s sigil. The weapon felt alive in her hands, its hilt warm as if it carried the faint heartbeat of the god it represented.

"The insanity will try to consume you," Kalen warned. "The arena has a way of amplifying the madness in those who step inside. Keep your focus, Yuki. Remember who you are."

She gave him a faint smile. "Who I am is precisely why I must do this."