The Guardian gods Chapter 777

"Who cares about that," Ikem muttered under his breath. "He’s already a bad influence on her."

Boros shook his head, a faint smile forming across his wooden features.

Ikem had always been an easy target for this sort of teasing ever since he was born. Growing up around Tweet had been relentless; if you weren’t quick on your feet, you were finished.

Now it seed Ursula had discovered just how entertaining that could be.

And she was enjoying it.

Boros gave Ikem’s shoulder a light squeeze before withdrawing his hand.

"You will survive," he said simply.

Ikem exhaled slowly. From the distance, Ursula’s laughter rang out again, bright and unrestrained.

And despite himself... The faintest trace of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

After so ti, Ikem’s realm began to echo with warmth. Laughter rolled through the open halls like wind through chis, mingling with the low murmur of familiar voices.

Ursula moved about with lively purpose, clearly eager to please Ikenga. She took the barbecue he had brought with clever improvisation, repurposed it entirely into an elaborate al. She served it with quiet pride, watching closely for his reaction.

Ikenga welcod every gesture with genuine appreciation. He praised her ingenuity and savored each bite, but he did not allow the mont to settle into re indulgence. Mindful of his hosts, he filled the space with stories, careful not to let the atmosphere grow dull or stagnant.

He spoke of the new lifeforms he had encountered in his travels with Keles. Ratfolk and goblins even demons, he recounted battles fought beneath fractured skies, where gravity twisted and the ground split open with every clash of power. He described the thrill of survival, victory, the fleeting connections forged even among enemies.

His voice carried through the hall painting vivid images for both Ursula and Ikem.

This continued for so ti, laughter rising, fading, and rising again until eventually Ursula excused herself. She left with a soft smile and a graceful nod, her presence retreating down the corridor until the sound of her steps dissolved into silence.

The realm shifted with her departure. What had monts before been alive with warmth grew still, left with the quiet between Ikem and Ikenga.

Ikenga broke it.

"I will be paying your brother a visit right after this," he said, his tone steady but thoughtful. "It has been a while since I spent quality ti with him."

Ikem froze for the briefest mont. A flicker in his gaze before he composed himself and gave a small nod.

"He has always been reclusive," Ikem replied, a faint smile forming on his face. "And now that he has his own realm, even more so. He keeps to himself... perhaps more than he should." His eyes softened, carrying both fondness and concern. "I try my best to spend ti with him whenever I can."

"I am happy to hear that your relationship is still as strong as before," Ikenga said softly.

As he spoke, his gaze drifted outward. The walls of Ikem’s hall parted at his will, revealing a vast expanse, the full breadth of his son’s realm. His sight stretched far beyond the visible horizon, perceiving not just form, but essence.

The landscape pulsed with quiet evolution. Strange lifeforms wandered across its crimson plains, creatures ford from blood-red roots that had once belonged to Bara. Their bodies crude at first sight, knotted masses of fibrous tendrils intertwined like veins exposed to open air. But under the steady influence of Ikem’s divinity, they were changing. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, flesh began to grow over those roots. Pale mbranes stretched across vascular fras. Muscle-like fibers tightened and layered themselves with increasing complexity.

They were becoming more than re extensions of Bara’s remnants.

The only thing missing was the presence of souls. Without that spark, the animating essence that granted will, mory, and true individuality they could not yet be deed fully alive. They moved by instinct, still, it was progress.

A step forward.

Ikenga’s eyes narrowed slightly in contemplation.

"I noticed earlier," he continued, his tone asured, "how dissatisfied you were with the faith energy you receive from your mortal worshippers."

Ikem let out a quiet sigh, the sound heavier than he intended. His shoulders sank, and for a mont the composure of a god gave way to the fatigue of a son.

"Dissatisfaction is an understatent," Ikem admitted, his voice edged with exhaustion. "It is honestly tiring. Refining their faith, filtering it, stabilizing it, stripping away its impurities, it consus so much of my ti."

"I spend more ti purifying belief than shaping my own realm," Ikem added, annoyance slipping through despite his effort to hide it.

Ikenga remained silent for a mont, watching him carefully "It pains to tell you this, my son," Ikenga said, his voice steady, "but you must grow accustod to it."

Ikem’s gaze hardened slightly, though he did not interrupt.

"Faith is not rely power," Ikenga continued. "It is connection. It binds you to the mortal plane. It anchors your existence in ways you may not yet fully understand. The effort it demands is the price of influence and of stability."

He turned his eyes once more to the evolving creatures below.

"In fact, I would advise that you deepen your relationship with them. Strengthen their belief. Cultivate it intentionally. Seek not only quantity, but devotion with clarity."

His tone grew quieter.

"The tis ahead will not be gentle. When they co, nothing but the depth of the faith that stands behind you will sustain and preserve you."

Ikem frowned at his father’s words, the tension in his brow deepening.

"You do know the danger that poses to us ascended gods?" he said, his voice tightening. "That very danger is why so many of us distance ourselves from mortals."

Faith energy did not arrive pure. It ca tangled with doubt, fear, selfish desires, and fleeting devotion. Each prayer carried expectation. Each offering bore conditions. To convert that chaotic influx into usable divine power required focus, discipline, and constant vigilance

To draw deeply from mortal faith was to allow their emotions, their instability, their collapse, to ripple back into the divine. A god too entangled in mortal dependence could be shaken, diminished... even fractured.

"I do know," Ikenga replied calmly. "But that is a challenge you must overco, not avoid."

His gaze remained steady, "As ascended gods, faith energy is your primary source of strength. It is the foundation upon which your divinity stabilizes itself. It is not a resource you can afford to treat lightly, nor one you can do without."

Ikem exhaled slowly, frustration threading through his voice.

"I am not without it, Father. The godlings provide more than enough of what I require. Their devotion is stable, pure, far less troubleso than the faith provided by humans."

Godlings were different. Their belief was structured, disciplined, unwavering. They did not doubt. They did not bargain. Their faith did not carry the chaotic residue of mortality. It flowed cleanly, almost chanically.

"If we had the luxury to procrastinate," Ikenga said, his tone sharpening just slightly, "I would have no issue with that approach."

He leane in closer "Tell , how much of the energy provided by the godlings remains to strengthen you after you have spent the majority of it maintaining your realm?"

Ikem paused, he did not answer imdiately because he knew the answer, not much.

The faith gathered from the godlings was steady, but it was also largely consud in sustaining the realm itself. Maintaining the evolving lifeforms. Stabilizing the dinsional boundaries. Nourishing the divine infrastructure that kept his world from collapsing into formless essence.

Very little remained for him.

It was only after Tide’s incident that he had experienced sothing close to surplus. The sudden surge of belief, fear-driven, desperate, overwhelming had flooded his domain. For a brief ti, he had possessed more faith energy than he could imdiately process.

But most of it had remained unrefined.

Before it could be fully accepted into his core, it required careful purification. Without refinent, it could destabilize him, pollute his divinity.

Still... it had been surplus.

If not for the inherent difficulty of mortal faith, its impurities, its unpredictability he would not be having this conversation.

Ikem’s expression shifted, irritation giving way to reluctant acknowledgnt. Godlings sustained his realm but mortals if properly cultivated could sustain him in the longer terms.

"My return with Keles marks the beginning of a new age for our world," Ikenga said, his voice carrying a quiet gravity that seed to ripple through the very fabric of the realm. "A greater stage is being set, one that can only be commanded by those who possess true strength. I would hate for my own son to lag behind in what is to co."

He paused then, sothing uncharacteristically hesitant flickering across his expression.

"I know I have always placed great expectations upon you," he admitted. "Often before you were ready. But this ti is different, my son. This ti, You won’t tackle it alone, i can extend my hand without limit, without breaking any cosmic law."