Chapter 655: 655
Jaus turned his gaze back to the mortal plane, his expression thoughtful.
"Besides," he continued, his voice echoing softly through the heavens, "this may yet serve our children well. Björn once warned them of the trials that come with ascension, the burden of divine will, the madness of unchecked faith. Since then, they have grown cautious, afraid to act, afraid to make mistakes... and that fear has stunted their growth."
Mahu, who had remained silent until now, inclined her head slowly. Her form shimmered like moon light as she spoke.
"You may be right," she said. "Perhaps they need this. A wound that teaches them the cost of divinity... and what it truly means to bear power."
For a time, none of them spoke. Only the rain from Tide’s grief fell upon the mortal realm below.
Meanwhile, across the higher planes, the ascended gods had gathered, their divine auras rippling like waves across the astral sea. All but two were absent, Ikem and Ursula. The others stood outside the borders of Tide’s realm, the entrance sealed in a barrier of roaring water and divine wrath.
They could not enter without invitation, and Tide was in no state to offer one. To force their way in would be a foolish act as Tide may not respond well to that.
But while the others watched in anxious silence, Ikem’s fury burned hotter than any storm.
His divine gaze pierced the veil between realms, settling upon the mortal world, upon Erik.
Erik, the mortal he had once favored. The one whose faith had been pure, unwavering, and strong. The one who had built a sanctuary in his honor, who understood the essence of Ikem’s dominion and tried to understand the evolution of life.
And now, that same mortal was entwined with a reflection of his wife’s form.
The sight made Ikem’s temples pulse with restrained rage. The divine glow in his eyes darkened into crimson, and his voice rumbled through his domain, shaking the roots of his realm.
"How dare he... how dare he tarnish the image of my woman?"
Ikem’s fury was unlike Tide’s sorrow. Where Tide’s realm drowned in endless tears, Ikem’s domain began to bleed. The once-vibrant roots that adorned his temple walls turned a deep scarlet, dripping with divine anger.
And far below, in the mortal world, inside Erik’s laboratory. The statue of Ikem trembled. The air thickened with the scent of iron and soil.
From the base of the statue, blood-red roots began to emerge, curling and twisting like serpents awakened from slumber. The roots pulsed with divine intent, alive and aware.
They slithered across the floor, climbing the shelves, reaching toward the glass chambers where Erik kept the remains of his failed experiments, vessels of half-born creations and decayed flesh preserved by forbidden alchemy.
The roots caressed the glass, then tightened. Cracks began to form, thin at first, then widening with sharp, crystalline sounds.
The roots drilled into the flesh of the failed creation, twisting and fusing with it. The glass shattered in a burst of crimson light as the vines took hold piercing, burrowing, and blooming inside the malformed body.
The corpse convulsed violently, its shape distorting under the invasive growth. Flesh knitted with bark, veins intertwined with roots, and the faint pulse of divine fury began to throb within it.
It was a message, born of wrath.
A response to Erik’s desecration.
And far above, in the higher planes, Ikem’s rage radiated like a wildfire. The entire temple of his realm pulsed red with each beat of his heart, the roots spreading across his marble floors like veins of molten blood.
But his fury did not go unnoticed.
From the deeper chambers of his divine abode, Ursula, goddess of the Ascendant Hearth and Everflame Bonds, stirred from her slumber.
She stepped into the open, her form radiant and timeless. Over the years her beauty had grown softer and warmer her light of life itself. Yet now, there was something more: her rounded belly, glowing faintly with divine warmth, carrying within it the spark of new life, their child.
Even her presence, however, did not immediately quell Ikem’s fury. His anger flared anew as his gaze fell upon her, and the thought tore through him:
She is to bear my child... and they have defiled her image.
The glow in his eyes deepened, turning from scarlet to a searing crimson-gold. His divinity surged outward, rattling the very pillars of his realm.
Ursula, sensing his wrath, raised her hand to her mouth in shock. Her golden eyes widened as her divine sight showed her the source of his fury, the mortal realm below, the rainstorm of Tide, and the image of her likeness entwined with a man she faintly remembered from his constant pestering of her image.
For a moment, sorrow flickered in her eyes. But she understood at once what must be done.
She stepped forward, her movements graceful yet deliberate, and wrapped her arms around Ikem from behind.
Her warmth was immediate. Gentle. Infinite.
Ikem stiffened at her touch, his divine energy roaring against the soothing current of her power. But her embrace was the hearth that no storm could extinguish. The Everflame Bonds, her divinity glowed softly around them, golden threads weaving through his crimson aura, dimming its rage.
He tried to pull away, to resist the calming tide, but then he felt it—the soft, rhythmic pulse within her. The unborn spark of life. Their child.
The world seemed to still.
The greenish-red glow in Ikem’s eyes faded, replaced by exhaustion and cold restraint. His divine aura began to recede, the bleeding roots that filled his temple slowing their restless crawl.
He let out a long, quiet breath.
"...I have done enough," he murmured, his voice low, heavy with lingering wrath.
He looked down once more toward the mortal world. The creation he had unleashed still pulsed faintly in Erik’s laboratory, a vessel filled with divine anger and corrupted beauty.
"It will carry my message," he said at last, his tone calmer. "Any more, and I would break the bounds that hold us."
Ursula nodded silently, her embrace never loosening. Her glow continued to warm the space between them, warding off the remnants of his fury.
Meanwhile, in the astral sea Tide’s rage began to falter.
It wasn’t reason that stayed his wrath, nor the pleading of gods beyond his walls, but the faint trembling cry of a child.
Through the divinity of his storm, the god heard it, a little girl’s sob, carried on the wind from the coast of Erik’s kingdom. Her voice was small, fragile, and terrified, barely piercing the sound of crashing waves.
The realization struck him like cold water. The town where the girl lived,
a seaside settlement that bore his symbol, whose people prayed to him daily, lay directly in the path of his divine fury.
If he let his wrath flow freely for even a moment longer, that town, those people, his worshippers, would be the first to drown beneath the flood.
And so, in the mortal realm, the colossal wave. The crest of his divine anger froze midair.
The sea itself hung suspended, trembling but unmoving, its weight pressing against invisible will. The sky split with the faint shimmer of sunlight as Tide stood from his throne, closing his eyes.
He took in a long, deliberate breath.
When he exhaled, the golden markings along his arms dimmed, and the fury that had rippled through his realm subsided, though it did not vanish. His ocean still seethed beneath the surface, but it was now tempered by thought.
He opened his eyes again, their deep cerulean hue reflecting sorrow rather than rage.
"There are better ways," he murmured to himself, voice. "Better than drowning the innocent to spite the guilty."
He knew the consequences of his wrath, knew that every action of his echoed not only upon mortals, but upon the godlings who he once led and those that revered him. His divinity was their foundation, his discipline their lesson.
He could not allow his grief to devour them too.
Turning his gaze back toward the mortal realm, Tide’s attention fell upon Erik’s laboratory. What he saw there stilled even the remnants of his storm.
He recognized it immediately, Ikem’s handiwork. The living mass of roots and blood pulsing with divine anger, twisting something broken into something alive. Yet it was incomplete, unstable, its form writhing without purpose, its existence lacking structure.
Tide’s expression hardened.
"If he wishes to send a message..." he said quietly, "then let it be received with clarity."
He lifted his right hand. The sea beneath his feet responded, opening into a vast pool of shimmering silver water, a gateway to his Everflowing Treasury, the divine armory that held the treasures of his domain.
From the depths of that sacred pool, five weapons emerged, each gleaming with divine craftsmanship and fluid grace.
A trident carved from coral and starlight.
A blade woven from frozen surf.
A chain forged from the spine of a sea serpent.
A staff crowned with a pearl that shimmered like the moon.
And a spear of pure tidewater, its form constantly shifting.
Without a word, Tide gestured.
The weapons descended into the pool, sinking into its still surface and vanishing from sight.