The Guardian gods Chapter 417

He had grown accustod to this dance of disruption, even anticipating it. Now, observing his daughter’s unexpected path, he could already envision multiple ways this could be twisted to his advantage. Yet, a nagging doubt lingered. Was this truly what he desired?

His ambition had always been clear: to ascend to a status that would inspire envy among all beings, to claim a place on the grandest stage of power. But this world, with its unpredictable nature and powerful players, was proving to be more of an obstacle than a stepping stone.

Murmur now faced a stark choice: ascension or descent. Both options were equally distasteful, yet necessary to remain a player in this cosmic ga.

Ascension would grant him imnse power, but it would also sever his direct influence on this world. He would beco a distant observer, unable to actively manipulate events. This, in turn, would leave him vulnerable to exploitation by the origin gods, those ancient entities who predated every part of this world. They were beings of unimaginable power, and Murmur knew he would be little more than a pawn once he ascends to their line of sight.

As for returning to the Abyss... that path offered little more than stagnation. The chances of him ever regaining, let alone surpassing, his current power were vanishingly slim. His fate would depend entirely on the specific layer he found himself in: conquered or unconquered, ruled by a powerful demon lord or a demon king with countless army at their head. In either case, his ambitions would be effectively extinguished.

He paced the chamber, the silence broken only by the soft rustle of his robes. The weight of his decision pressed heavily upon him. Both paths were fraught with peril, yet inaction was not an option. He had co too far, invested too much, to simply fade into obscurity. He had to choose, and that choice would define his future, for better or worse.

An idea, dark and ambitious, was already forming in Murmur’s mind, the idea was dark if hidden but of purity once in the light. But it would have to wait. The gods’ counterparts, those irritatingly resilient obstacles to his previous grand design, needed to be dealt with first. This ti, however, he would not remain cloaked in shadow. The whispers and manipulations had served their purpose, but the ti for anonymity was over. It was ti for his na to be spoken, feared, and ultimately, worshipped.

Playing from the shadows had reached its limits. It was a tool, not a strategy for ultimate victory. The subtle currents of influence he had manipulated were beginning to coalesce, to form a recognizable pattern. If he remained hidden, others might discern his hand, potentially uniting against him. He needed to step into the light, to seize control of the narrative.

A wind blew in his chamber with Murmur no longer present. It was night ti with stars filling the sky. He was now standing infront of a pillar like tower filled with runes, just getting close to it was enough to speak tales of it’s power.

This was carried over by apelings through the portal gates to his continent, he was already imford of what it was ant to do and the demigod who will be handling it.

Running hands through the tower and the rune faintly pulsing and glow, Murmur found himself captivated by the craftmanship. Suddenly things went silent and the surrounding went completely dark.

"Destroy it" A whisper like suggestion said to his ear. The voices was one Murmur recognized only this ti they were directly speaking to him.

"Destroy it," the whisper echoed again, laced with an undercurrent of growing impatience. The darkness intensified, pressing against Murmur like a physical weight. He could feel their presence, vast and old, like the crushing pressure of the deep ocean. They were testing him, probing his will.

Murmur remained unmoved. "And why would I do that?" he finally responded, his voice calm and asured, a stark contrast to the oppressive atmosphere. He knew they could hear him, their attention laser-focused on him.

The darkness pulsed, a subtle shift in the oppressive pressure. "It is not yours to command," a chorus of voices whispered, overlapping and intertwining, their tones laced with ancient malice. "Its power is...unclean. Dangerous."

Murmur chuckled softly, a dry, humorless sound. "Unclean? Dangerous? You speak of power as if it were a delicate flower, easily bruised. I have walked the Abyss, bathed in its rawest energies. ’Unclean’ is a matter of perspective."

The darkness roiled, and a vision flickered before Murmur’s eyes. A swirling vortex of iridescent colors, a glimpse into the infinite chaos of the Abyss. He saw colossal beings, their forms defying description, writhing and devouring each other in an endless cycle of creation and destruction. The sheer scale of it was enough to shatter a mortal mind, to reduce a normal god to gibbering madness.

"This," the voices hissed, "is the true power. Submit to it. Beco one with the endless chaos."

Murmur did not flinch. He had seen such visions before, glimpses into the true nature of the Abyss. They were ant to intimidate, to break his will. But he was not easily swayed. "A tempting offer," he said, his voice laced with irony. "But I have my own path to power. One that does not involve becoming another mindless beast in your cosmic nagerie."

The vision vanished, and the darkness seed to draw back slightly, as if the primordial entities were montarily surprised by his defiance. "You...dare to refuse us?" the voices whispered, their tone now laced with sothing akin to curiosity.

"I dare to choose my own path," Murmur replied. "I respect your power, but I do not serve you. I rely wished to examine this...structure. Its craftsmanship is...intriguing." He gestured towards the tower, his tone now casual, as if he were discussing a piece of art rather than a potential source of imnse power. He had no intention of claiming it for himself; he simply wanted to understand it. Knowledge was power, and understanding this structure could be valuable, even if he didn’t control it.

The darkness remained silent for a mont, as if considering his words. Then, a chilling laughter echoed through the void. "Arrogant...foolish...creature," the voices hissed. "You believe you can still grab a piece of the pie. We shall see...we shall see..."

The darkness began to recede, the oppressive pressure easing. The silence returned, but it was a different silence now, a silence pregnant with unspoken threats. Murmur knew they would not forget his defiance. They would likely try again, perhaps with more subtle thods. But he was ready for them. He had faced worse in the Abyss, and he would not be deterred from his goals. He glanced at the tower one last ti, a flicker of sothing unreadable in his eyes. He had learned what he needed to for now.

The scene was the sa in all the different continent, people wake up to find a towering pillar like tower off in the distance and were highly prohibited by their leaders from getting close to it.

One month flew by fast quickly and today marks the day planned by the demigods on setting up the rune pillar and asecnding to godhood at the sa ti.

At the territory of the apelings, the mood was hevay yet was filled with light of festivities, it was still day light at this ti. The apelings in the long ti always do well to party and drink themselves to coma when ever the opportunity arises yet this day fell sour to most apelings for so reason.

The drums, dancing and drunk chatters everywhere yet no one looked drunk, like they knew sothing was going to happen and their suspicion was confird when words ca in that their king will have word at the evening when the sun went down.

Ikem at the mont was standing proud with his arms spread apart in front of a huge mirrior. Around him were all his child, leaders of the four cursed clans and those who were no leaders but still exceptional apelings and have brought prosperity to their people.

Ikem’s children took upon the duty that should have be resvered for maids and servants as they began to dress up their father who had a look of pride on his face seeing his children.

An armor set crafted by Ember himself was placed on the room where each of his kid picked up a piece while putting it unto him.

The tallic clang of the armor pieces resonated softly in the room, a counterpoint to the muffled drums and shouts from outside. Each plate, each buckle, each strap was handled with reverence, imbued with the love and respect Ikem’s children held for him. Their faces, usually alight with mischief or carefree joy, were now serious, focused on the task at hand. There was a hint of sadness in their eyes, a knowledge of the change that was coming, but it was tempered by pride. They were dressing their father not for battle, but for sothing far greater, sothing that would forever alter the course of their lives and the lives of all apelings.