Chapter 656: 656
Far below, in the mortal world, the stagnant puddles of water upon Erik’s laboratory floor began to ripple. The red roots writhed, and from the depths of those shallow waters, the five divine weapons emerged, each drawn to one of the newly transformed creatures.
The moment they made contact, the air split with the sound of divine resonance.
The lab glowed with an eerie light as Erik’s failed creations rose, no longer mere experiments of flesh but vessels now bound to the wrath and will of two gods.
The five beasts, once mere constructs of rage and instinct, now pulsed with eerie sentience. The merging with the treasure had changed themgifted them not only strength but awareness. In the stillness of Erik’s laboratory, they stirred. Their eyes, once dull now gleamed with purpose, an echo of the divine intent that had birthed them.
Then came the sound.
A roar, neither entirely mortal nor divine, tore through the air like a physical force. It rumbled from the depths of Erik’s lab, crashing through the corridors of the palace, rattling windows and shaking foundations. The very air seemed to shudder beneath its weight. Servants dropped what they were holding, guards clutched their weapons, and even those who lived beyond the palace walls froze as the sound reached them low, resonant, and laced with something primal.
It was not just a sound, it was a presence. With it came an undercurrent of fear, faint but undeniable, the kind that gnaws at the edges of reason.
In a secluded chamber, Erik stirred, his consciousness still intertwined with Siren’s. His head snapped up, eyes narrowing as the resonance of the roar filled his mind. His heartbeat quickened, not from panic, but from instinctive caution. Something was wrong.
Siren’s reaction was different. She sat motionless at first, her gaze distant, as though seeing beyond the walls, beyond the mortal realm itself. Through that echoing roar, she sensed it, two distinct divinities intertwined in its resonance. Her expression changed.
She had expected to provoke one god today. One. But two? That was far beyond her plans.
Her gaze flicked to Erik, whose features had tensed, reflecting the same caution now coiling through her.
She straightened, folding her arms. The matter of Erik and the cursed beinsg whose fate now intertwined with his would have to wait. Such puzzles were not solved in a day, and she had time. Time to untangle what bound them. Time to understand what she was meant to do.
But first she needed safety. Shelter. A place unseen, untouched by other divine eyes.
Tide’s wrath was not something she wished to weather in the open, not now. The god’s fury would simmer, perhaps fade, given distance and silence. Ikem, on the other hand, his anger was less direct, more a ripple born from wounded pride. It was his wife, Ursula, who had been shamed by Siren’s actions.
At the thought of Ursula, Siren’s face twisted briefly, half in guilt, half in defiance. She had not meant to humiliate the goddess, but neither did she regret it. Her power had expressed itself fully, unrestrained, and in that moment, Siren had felt complete.
There was no remorse in her heart, only a newfound clarity. The world felt sharper now, more vivid. Every sensation, every thought carried weight. She was not the same as before.
Even Tide’s anger, heavy as a stormcloud, did not wholly sadden her. Yes, it hurt to feel his wrath pressing against her heart, to sense the weight of disappointment from a god she once sought to please. Yet beneath that ache, Siren felt something truer, something intoxicating.
This was how it should be.
Power was never gentle, and beauty was never meant to be harmless. The idea that her mere presence, her existence, could stir divine emotions, anger, desire, pain filled her with a quiet pride. She was the eye of the storm, the center around which gods and mortals alike now turned. And in that realization bloomed an almost guilty joy.
A faint smile touched her lips as she glanced at Erik.
He stood tense, confusion and caution mixing in his eyes. He was still caught between awe and fear, struggling to understand what he had become entangled with. Summoning his spear, its shaft gleaming with runic light, Erik readied himself for the unknown.
But before he could speak, Siren leaned close. Her voice was silk over steel, her breath warm against his ear. Her tongue traced his earlobe as she whispered, low and deliberate,
"Survive this... I look forward to your growth."
By the time the words reached him fully, she was gone. The air where she had been shimmered faintly, her scent lingering like sea mist soft, salt-sweet, and wild.
For a moment Erik wondered if he had imagined her entirely, a fever dream born of exhaustion and magic. But the trace of her presence in the air, the echo of her voice in his head, told him it was real.
And with that realization came a sting of frustration.
He clenched his jaw. He’d let himself be carried away by her presence, her allure and gained no answers. He still knew nothing of what she truly wanted, or why the cursed beings seemed to gravitate toward her.
His thoughts didn’t linger long.
The wall beside him exploded inward with a thunderous crack, stone and dust filling the room as rubble rained down. The force of the impact tore through the silence like lightning. Erik barely managed to bring his spear up before the next blow connected an immense, snarling force slamming into him with such power that his body was thrown through the palace walls, his figure a blur vanishing into the distance.
The roar that followed was deafening, the same as before beastly, divine, and filled with intent.
Far away, beneath the bruised sky, Siren walked. Each step left faint ripples in the air, the world itself seeming to draw back from her. Above her, clouds gathered dark, heavy, trembling with restrained fury. She didn’t look up, but she felt him watching.
Tide.
His presence pressed against her like the weight of the sea itself.
She exhaled slowly, steadying her heart. She had known this would come. His sight was upon her, his wrath gathering in the storm that now coiled above.
Still, she didn’t run.
Lightning flared distantly across the clouds, painting her silhouette in silver and shadow. Her lips curved into the faintest smile.
"Watch me, Tide," she murmured. "If I am to fall, let it be by your hand."
With a hopeful heart, Siren whispered her request into the silence an old plea, spoken in the tongue few know of "Grant me passage, O Silver Mother... let me walk beneath your calm light once more."
The air trembled around her, as if considering her words. She continued forward, her every step heavy beneath the unseen weight of divine scrutiny. The sky above had grown thick and oppressive; the clouds no longer just gathered they pressed down. It was as though the heavens themselves sought to crush her beneath their judgment.
Still, she walked.
Then, slowly, the world around her began to shift. The horizon rippled, her path softening at the edges until it blurred completely. Mist curled around her ankles, then her waist, until the air itself became pale and luminous. The crushing weight lifted Tide’s gaze slipped from her.
Siren exhaled, her breath visible in the cool, silver air. Relief washed through her like a tide ebbing after a storm. She had made it.
And then she saw it.
A garden stretched out before her, bathed in gentle moonlight. White lilies swayed without wind, their petals shimmering faintly as though made of frost and light. The scent was faintly familiar, clean, cold, and nostalgic. It took her a heartbeat to recognize it.
This was her garden.
A place she had once tended with her own hands, long before her fall into divine infamy. The sight stirred something deep within her an ache that was not quite sorrow, but close. Mahu’s realm had grown since she last stood here; the moon goddess’s dominion now encompassed the entire lunar sphere, a tranquil ocean of light and shadow.
At its heart stood the castle built together by Mahu and Ikenga.
An ice-crystal palace, flawless and transparent, its walls glowing with soft inner luminescence. It was beauty shaped into permanence, serene and untouchable.
Siren began walking toward it, the sound of her steps echoing faintly against the glass-like path. But before she could take another breath, her vision shifted. The world folded upon itself like silk.
And when her sight cleared, she was no longer in the garden.
She stood before her.
Mahu, the Origin Goddess of Motherhood and the Moon, reclined upon a crescent-shaped sofa, her presence both divine and deeply human. Her body was vast, radiant yet comforting, silver hair cascading like flowing starlight down her shoulders. A lazy, almost bored grace emanated from her as she idly worked a knitting tool in her hands, threads of light weaving and unweaving between her fingers.