The Guardian gods Chapter 858

Osita's gaze followed the frost. Employing Selective Permeability, he deftly redirected it, allowing the icy chill to merely embrace the outer shell of his radiant cloak. This created a facade that was both brittle and as hard as diamond.

When a second Paragon, a formidable master of Violent Kineticism, launched a devastating, unseen hammer strike of pure force towards him, the impact met the stasis-shell. The clashing of these opposing laws resulted in a deafening explosion of conceptual glass, leaving Osita miraculously unharmed at its epicenter.

Simultaneously, Edward unfurled a horizontal scythe of his blade, unleashing a wave of Solar Erasure intent on immolating all in its path. At the same moment, Nwadimma, perceiving her opportune moment, commanded the Supporting Shadow to ascend from the ground beneath Osita’s feet, ensnaring his ankles to prevent any evasion of the ensuing flames.

Osita could feel the searing heat stripping away his layers of protection. Even with the advantage of his mage tower, situated within his own domain and bolstering his mana reserves, the onslaught of multiple laws proved to be overwhelming.

His visage shifted from one of careful calculation to that of stern determination. He delved deep into his core. The consequence of this profound action was a compromise of his very structural integrity; his skin began to fissure and crack like parched earth, emitting a luminous, internal violet fire.

"The Gate of the Discarded." With this declaration, he conjured a Door. Given the nature of his domain, this specific gate represented a drastic final resort, employed only when the protection of his family necessitated an escape route.

A colossal, tarnished iron gate surged forth from the obsidian floor, positioning itself vertically between Osita and Edward’s solar wave.

The fiery solar essence slammed against the imposing door. Osita applied Selective Permeability to the gate, causing the flames to cascade off its surface much like water against a sheer cliff face. However, the intense heat conducted through, reducing Osita’s hands to blackened, charred remnants as he gripped the handles.

Nwadimma’s shadows surged with the intent to drag the gate down, but Osita imbued it with Conceptual Density, rendering it impossibly heavy. Due to her current mana reserves, she found herself unable to budge it, instead suffering a potent backlash.

The Paragons converged at once, a maelstrom of chaotic elements and laws meticulously designed to tear him asunder. Edward’s sword hovered mere inches from the iron surface, the metal itself beginning to liquefy into molten slag.

Osita’s vision flickered and blurred. With a final, excruciating exertion, he wrenched the door inward, drawing it towards himself.

The void revealed behind the doorway offered only a vista of stars, yet Osita held a specific destination in mind.

Just as the combined might of six Paragon-level assaults finally fractured the iron gate, Osita hurled himself backward into the vast, beckoning emptiness. The instant his heels cleared the threshold, the gate groaned under the immense pressure, buckling inward before erupting outward in a blast of catastrophic force.

The subsequent detonation violently shook the physical realm. Across the entirety of the Eastern Continent, the very ground trembled and convulsed in a massive seismic upheaval. The shockwave tore through the capital city, obliterating every window for miles and leaving the once majestic Omadi Palace a smoldering ruin. This widespread devastation reached the material world only because Nwadimma, sensing the impending cataclysm, had retracted her Domain at the final moment to circumvent being consumed by the backlash of the collapsing Law.

Within the profound, echoing silence that settled in the wake of the overlapped reality, Edward stood surveying the scorched imprint in the fabric of space where the gate had once materialized. He intently searched for any indication of a kill, but discovered nothing. No deceased body remained, not even a solitary drop of blood could be found.

He glanced around, noticing that Nwadimma had already vanished, presumably to tend to her injuries or to secure her kingdom. The other Paragons who had lent their strength to the assault exchanged solemn, grim glances. With a unified sigh of frustration over their elusive quarry, these formidable figures dissolved from view one by one.

Utilizing his connection to Amina as a makeshift anchor, Osita desperately propelled himself towards her, striving to avoid being utterly lost amidst the star-strewn void. From the frigid expanse of space, a singular trail of light could be observed hurtling rapidly towards the surface of a crimson planet.

Time appeared to dilate until a violent eruption tore through the stillness, spewing a colossal wave of dust that billowed across the desolate, red terrain. At the epicenter of the newly formed crater, Osita’s battered form lay motionless, his chest heaving as he fought for each ragged breath.

Fractures, like a delicate web, laced across his entire physique. From these profound fissures, a brilliant, volatile luminescence seeped out, commingling with the dark blood pooling around him on the fractured earth.

Straining against the immense burden of his own battered body, Osita forced himself to rise. The exertion triggered a violent coughing fit, expelling fresh blood that spattered onto the dust below. Yet, as he finally managed to stand upright, an unexpected, uncontrollable laughter erupted from his chest—wild, defiant, and echoing across the barren, red plains.

He had succeeded. He had finally achieved it.

After a year filled with relentless misfortune that had plagued both him and his wife, she was finally within his reach. Osita gazed at the web-like fractures spreading across his skin, observing as the luminous cracks gradually mended themselves.

Every particle of pain was justified. It was worth it for the woman who had awakened his capacity for love, the mother of his children. At this moment, she was more secure than she had ever been, completely detached from the realm of Nana.

Whatever malevolent machinations Murmur was orchestrating in the shadows could no longer harm her. Not any longer. As long as she remained hidden from view, she would be safe. Regarding Murmur himself, Osita vowed to maintain a constant vigil, patiently anticipating the entity's eventual revelation. He would confront him when the opportune moment arrived, for he understood a grim verity: as long as Murmur drew breath, he and his wife would perpetually be regarded as mere pieces in an elaborate, perverse game.

Lifting his feet from the crater's dusty floor, Osita began to ascend. As he rose into the thin atmosphere of the red planet, his heightened senses zeroed in on his objective: the concealed doorway, waiting for him somewhere on this world.

He was in no state to engage in high-speed flight, let alone teleportation, so he allowed himself a gentle ascent towards the designated coordinates. As his approach neared, the hidden portal shimmered into existence, materializing directly before him. He extended a hand to open it but halted abruptly.

Recalling his own battered appearance, he paused. With a swift, silent incantation, he restored himself, masking his injuries from view and draping his form in a set of pristine garments. He did not wish for her to witness him in such a state. Content, he placed his palm against the door's substantial surface and pushed it inward.

Unlike his previous visit, which had been met with a void of inky blackness, he now beheld a fully realized, distinct chamber. This indicated that an inhabitant now occupied this section of the Bastion, and the space had adapted to reflect their personal aesthetic.

However, the embellishments held no significance for Osita. Even before his vision could fully register the room's arrangement, a sharp, metallic aroma assaulted his senses.

It was the potent, unmistakable fragrance of fresh blood.

A wave of panic coursed through him, and Osita burst into the room, his own grievous injuries instantly forgotten.

The scene that greeted him caused his heart to constrict with agonizing force.

There, slumped against the wall, was the Queen. She was utterly unconscious, her complexion a deathly, translucent pallor from extreme blood loss. But what instilled profound terror in Osita's soul was the horrifying, bleeding stump where her foot ought to have been.

He did not hesitate for a solitary second. Despite his own body's fractured state and writhing agony, his mana reserves remained robust. Driving through the pain, he channeled his power and initiated a high-tier, sixth-level healing spell. Immediately, a vast, intricate arcane circle materialized, enveloping the Queen's damaged form in a radiant, restorative luminescence.

The advanced magic acted swiftly and efficaciously. Before his very eyes, the torn, ragged tissue of the stump began to mend and elongate. Bone, muscle, and skin rapidly regenerated, culminating in a perfectly formed new foot. Concurrently, the life-drained color receded, and a healthy, warm hue surged back into her cheeks.

Drained yet relieved, Osita slumped to a nearby seat. He kept a careful watch as the spell completed its restoration, waiting in the heavy silence until her eyelids finally fluttered, and she slowly opened her eyes.

The instant the Queen's eyes parted, she surveyed her surroundings. The chamber was entirely alien, yet a peculiar, resonant echo of familiarity seemed to emanate from the very walls. Then, her gaze fell upon Osita, seated quietly opposite her.

Instinctively, she flinched, her body tensing as if to flee. She was no longer in her personal quarters. Her husband was nowhere to be seen. But before sheer dread could paralyze her, she froze, her focus fixed intently on Osita's face. In that fleeting moment, a profound transformation occurred within her; the vulnerable, terrified facade receded, and the fully awakened Queen Taiwo recognized the figure before her.