The Guardian gods Chapter 667

For a long mont, neither spoke. The only sound was the quiet hum of the realm’s waters, endlessly flowing yet sohow still.

Ikem’s hands tightened into fists. His nails pressed into his palms, not out of rage, but from the weight of what he was feeling. Tide’s confession struck sothing deep within him, an uncomfortable recognition.

Because he understood.

Tide’s longing, his pride, his despair, they mirrored his own. Ikem thought of his unborn child, the life soon to co into the world. It was a child he would father not out of duty, not because of divine expectation, but because he wanted to. Because for the first ti in his long existence, he had chosen sothing purely for himself.

And now, hearing Tide speak, he realized how painfully similar their hearts were. Tide had simply reached for love in the sa way Ikem had. but his hand had been burned in the process.

Ikem’s jaw tightened as he stared at the nding wall before him. The realization dimd his anger like a fla starved of air. How could he stay furious when he could see so clearly that, under different circumstances, it could have been him standing in Tide’s place?

He exhaled slowly, the tension leaving his shoulders.

He was just a luckier Tide.

Ursula had never betrayed him, had never shattered his faith in her. But if she had? If she had let another despoil what they shared? Ikem wasn’t certain he would have fared any better. In truth, he might have done far worse.

He lowered his gaze. For the first ti since entering Tide’s realm, Ikem found himself without words, because there was nothing left to condemn.

There was a long silence before Ikem finally spoke. His voice was calm, carrying neither judgnt nor anger—only weary understanding.

"Do what you must, Tide," he said quietly. "But rember how your actions ripple beyond yourself. They hurt those who care about you... people like us."

Tide remained still, his gaze fixed on the faint patterns in the water at his feet.

Ikem continued, his tone deepening. "You’re about to set in motion sothing unprecedented, dealing with the humans as you plan. I only hope you won’t co to regret it when it’s too late to turn back."

He rose from the steps. "Ursula and I will look forward to your visit after your nephew is born," he said, a faint smirk softening his expression. "And as the god of treasure and vanity, I expect you to bring sothing truly worthy of the child."

The teasing note in his voice was gentle, but it struck sothing within Tide. He blinked, almost startled by the warmth beneath his cousin’s words. Slowly, his head lifted, and a faint glow shimred in his eye.

He opened his mouth, wanting to apologize, but the words caught in his throat. He could only give a small nod before replying, his tone echoing Ikem’s teasing warmth.

"Indeed," Tide said, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "As a god with such divinity, I must uphold my image."

With a graceful wave of his hand, the waters before him began to swirl, coalescing into a spiraling portal of rippling light and liquid motion. Now that his anger had passed and clarity had returned, Tide could not allow Ikem to depart the sa way he had arrived, violently tearing through divine boundaries. This ti, the god of tides himself opened the way.

Ikem stepped toward the portal but paused at its edge. He turned back, eting Tide’s gaze. The weight that had once darkened the god’s eyes had lessened, he still looked burdened, but no longer broken.

"Take care of yourself, Tide," Ikem said, his voice quiet but sincere.

For a heartbeat, neither spoke. Then Ikem stepped through the swirling water, his form dissolving into the light. The portal rippled once more before closing, leaving Tide alone in the vast stillness of his realm.

Ikem’s return to his realm did not go unnoticed. The other gods, who had been holding their breath since the mont he breached Tide’s domain, finally exhaled in relief.

The faint tension that had lingered among them began to fade, though the echo of what had just transpired remained clear. The idea of conflict, true divine conflict still felt foreign to them. Yet, as unsettling as it was, the event had opened their eyes to an unspoken truth.

They were no longer mortals. They were gods. And divinity ca not only with power but with burden.

For the first ti, they understood that there might co monts when duty would outweigh affection, when even familial bonds could not shield them from the responsibilities their divine natures demanded.

Still, none of them wished to dwell on it. Not yet. The thought of their once-peaceful pantheon being shaken by discord was a wound they were not ready to touch. So they quietly returned to their own realms, each pretending calm while silently wrestling with the new weight of what they had witnessed.

Beyond their awareness, the Origin Gods, their progenitors had seen and heard everything.

Ikem did not know it, but Tide did. The mont Ikem’s fury had torn through the boundary between their realms, Tide had felt their consciousness brush against his, a subtle, imnse awareness pressing at the edges of his domain.

He could have denied them entry. But he didn’t.

So the Origin Gods watched and listened as their children spoke, heard every word, even those spoken about them.

Yet the Origin Gods found themselves unable to react to their children’s words. It was not that they were unfeeling, but rather that sothing within them had begun to change. A quiet shift subtle, yet profound had taken root in their divine essence.

It could be said that this change began after all their children had ascended and taken their places as the new gods. The world no longer needed their constant intervention; their creations now shaped realms of their own. And with that, the Origin Gods felt a strange stillness settling upon them.

They no longer found joy in the sa things. Their thoughts wandered, their interest waned. Matters that once commanded their attention now felt distant, unimportant, like faint echoes of a song they could no longer fully recall.

Where this change was leading, they could not say. But they knew an answer would co soon. Their other two siblings who had wandered far would soon return. And perhaps then, this hollow emptiness, this quiet void within their being, would finally be filled.

Tide, anwhile, sat in silence long after Ikem’s departure. The echoes of their conversation still lingered in the waves around him, but the storm within his heart had cald.

He was still in pain, yes but the guilt that had once gnawed at him now felt lighter. For the first ti since his outburst, he felt he could breathe.

Still, he did not let comfort make him careless. Tide knew how fortunate he was that it had been Ikem he had wronged this ti. His cousin’s temper was fierce, but his heart was steady. Had it been Maul in Ikem’s place... Tide doubted the outco would have been as rciful. Maul would not have paused to speak. He would have struck first, and explanations would have co too late.

A shiver rippled through him at the thought. His mont of anger, born from pain, pride, and resentnt could have unraveled centuries of trust, fracturing the family their parents had labored to keep united.

Now, with his mind clear and his emotions stilled, he understood the gravity of what he had risked. He would need to tread carefully from here on, lest his desire for vengeance against the mortal bring ruin not only to himself, but to all his kin.

A darker thought crept into his mind, one that made his scales prickle. Xerosis.

Even the whisper of that na carried weight. She was now under his uncle’s protective sight and light. Were Tide to overstep again, and if his actions sohow affected Xerosis’s ... not even his father’s protection could save him.

He exhaled slowly, pressing a hand over his chest as if to still the pounding of his divine heart. "No more foolishness," he murmured to himself. "Not again."

Tide’s thoughts turned dark once more, though this ti they were clear and deliberate. His target was "Erik".

The very thought of that mortal still drawing breath made his jaw tighten. Was it not for certain... complications, the godlings themselves would have already descended upon the mortal realm, leaving Erik’s kingdom in ruins within re hours.

But politics bound even gods. And so, for now, Tide’s vengeance had to take another form.

His only tools were the mortals, those desperate, fragile creatures who now clamored ceaselessly for his favor. Since his ascension, countless souls had turned to him, praying, sacrificing, pleading for his grace.

He ignored them, only answering to few until Erik’s profanity, where he then began to pay them more attention. Before his confrontation with Ikem, he had planned on continuing granting that favor freely, unreservedly, to anyone who invoked his na with sufficient fervor as long as they aid to end Erik.