The Guardian gods Chapter 859

By all rational thought, the appearance of Osita should have instilled dread and a desperate urge to flee within her. He was an unknown entity, moreover, the fated adversary of her husband. However, the surge of panic receded. For the first instance since the manifestation of her peculiar, disjointed malady, Taiwo discerned the elusive, phantasmal figure she had been earnestly seeking within her thoughts.

The instant their gazes met, an overwhelming certainty enveloped her; she was secure. Though he might have been opposed to the throne, a profound, undeniable aspect of her spirit resisted perceiving him as a threat.

A deeply concealed sentiment within her harbored genuine affection for him. Regaining her poise under his tranquil, unwavering regard, Taiwo allowed her royal upbringing to surface. She adjusted her bearing, cloaking herself in the innate dignity befitting a queen.

"I believe I am owed an explanation, King Osita," she stated, her voice resonant with authority and a demand for answers.

The palpable tension eased from Osita’s posture, and a sincere smile graced his features. "Please, simply call me Osita," he responded gently. "And yes, we certainly have much to deliberate upon."

Taiwo subtly elevated an eyebrow. His mild, unhurried tone took her by surprise, but what astonished her further was his immediate readiness to clarify the situation—a stark, jarring divergence from her husband, who consistently enveloped her in a veil of secrecy and deception.

Concurrently, back within Nana’s realm, Nwadiebeube was in utter disarray.

The king had descended into a state of profound delirium, pacing like a beast confined to a cage. His eyes blazed with frenzy, and his vocalizations had devolved into a hoarse, frantic repetition of desperate whispers: "Mine... She is mine... Where is my wife?!"

It was during this collapse that Nwadimma finally emerged. She still bore the visible marks and exhaustion from her recent, fierce confrontation with Osita, yet her guardian instincts remained acutely honed. Recognizing the peril of the king exposing his frailty, she acted with swift, unyielding decisiveness. Melding with the shadows, she struck him down, rendering him unconscious before dragging his inert form away, ensuring his removal from public view.

This was emphatically not the opportune moment for the king to exhibit such precarious weakness. Not now. Not with the grand design he intended to enact through the nascent religion. To the populace, his image had to remain untarnished, that of an unassailable, steadfast, and dependable leader. The pathetic, fractured spectacle he was currently presenting to the people risked jeopardizing the entirety of their meticulously crafted plan.

Nwadimma’s allegiance to the overarching strategy was unwavering, and she was prepared to eradicate any potential loose ends with extreme prejudice. Without the slightest hesitation, she even went so far as to decree the immediate termination of every single individual who had borne witness to the king's breakdown. It was an uncomplicated matter to conceal, skilfully attributing their demise to the general confusion stemming from the recent assault; they were simply recorded as unfortunate casualties of the enemy's aggression.

Having successfully controlled the narrative and neutralized the immediate threat to the throne, Nwadimma’s adrenaline finally dissipated. The immense strain from her brutal engagement with Osita overwhelmed her all at once. Her vision swam, and her knees gave way as she succumbed to unconsciousness.

With both the king incapacitated and his most formidable protector rendered insensible, the burden of the kingdom devolved upon the crown prince and the remaining three paragons. It was now solely their responsibility to mend the fractured situation and manage the impending repercussions.

A succession of grueling days elapsed as every possible royal endeavor was exerted to restore order to the city. However, enforcing stability proved a grim, arduous struggle when the royal palace itself lay in ruins, reduced to an empty mound of debris.

Nevertheless, due to Nwadimma’s ruthlessly decisive actions, the truth remained strictly concealed. Not a solitary murmur of the king's mental instability permeated beyond the devastated confines, leaving the public entirely oblivious to the decay festering at the heart of the administration. Instead, the sudden destruction served as a stark, brutal reminder, violently recalling the king’s prior, perplexing mandates to prepare for conflict.

Initially, they had all dismissed his edicts as mere political maneuvering, a scare tactic. But observing the smoldering wreckage of their proudest achievement, reality finally dawned. A devastating war was indeed poised at their threshold, though it had not commenced in the conventional manner they had anticipated. There were no marching armies on the horizon, no banners unfurled. Instead, the initial engagements were unfolding within an unseen dimension, entirely beyond their perception or comprehension.

Additional days trudged by in a suffocating, tense quietude before Nwadiebeube eventually made his public reappearance.

As he advanced, a hush fell over the onlookers, but the expected wave of relief never materialized. It was evident at a single glance that a profound transformation had occurred. The desperate, frantic man who had cried out for his wife was no more. In his place stood a chilling, cold presence.

Even his own children, anticipating his appearance, instinctively drew back. The instant they registered the unsettling shift in their father’s bearing and the vacant, dead look in his eyes, they silently retreated, creating a palpable distance between themselves and the figure on the throne.

Nwadiebeube wasted no time in addressing the kingdom. Enormous, luminous projections of the king materialized throughout the entire realm, reaching every corner of his dominion. From the most remote hamlets to the heavily fortified regional centers and the very heart of the capital, his colossal image loomed in the sky.

The populace, alongside a multitude of foreign operatives eager to discern the events within the Omadi kingdom, remained transfixed. When Nwadiebeube finally began to speak, his initial words sent a jolt through the assembled masses.

"My people," his resonant voice echoed across the land. "You have undoubtedly witnessed and heard of the recent tragedy to strike the royal family."

He paused, allowing the gravity of his statement to sink into the expectant silence.

"I must offer my apologies for the delay in my address. All my time has been devoted to comforting the survivors and mourning the innocent souls lost to a sudden, dishonorable enemy assault."

Taking a deliberate, solemn moment to collect himself, Nwadiebeube inclined his head slightly before resuming his address via the projections. "In this brutal onslaught, numerous precious lives were extinguished," he declared, his voice softening to a somber tone. "And through this attack, our magnificent kingdom has lost an individual truly beyond replacement. Our kingdom has lost its Queen. My cherished wife."

A collective, sharp intake of breath swept through the thousands of citizens and hidden observers across the territory. For the common folk, the loss of lives in a sudden, high-level enemy raid was tragic yet understandable. What they had not anticipated, however, was the Queen being among the casualties.

The dominion was well aware of the immense resources, military significance, and stringent security measures the king had implemented for her protection. Rumors had long persisted that no fewer than three of the realm's legendary Paragons were solely assigned to her safeguarding. Yet, inexplicably, she had fallen.

Before the nascent panic could escalate, Nwadiebeube spoke once more, his demeanor shifting from sorrow to a dark, determined intensity.

"Pardon me, my words may have conveyed a more somber reality than the truth holds. The Queen’s life has not been extinguished. Rather, she has been taken. A cowardly adversary has abducted her, and we have strong reason to believe she remains alive."

These words inflicted an even deeper, more profound shock upon the already reeling populace. While the loss of a life in the chaos of conflict was one matter, the abduction of the Queen from the very core of their stronghold represented a humiliation of an entirely different caliber, particularly given the widespread knowledge of the Queen's current pregnancy with the king's heir.

Gradually, the stunned quietude gave way to a low, gathering rumble of indignation. Voices began to swell from the towns and villages, coalescing into an angry, unified clamor.

"Who dared?!" the crowds erupted, their cries reverberating through the thoroughfares. "Who is responsible for stealing our Queen from us?!"

The fierce chant resonated throughout the entire domain, an escalating swell of public outrage. As if sensing the precise moment the collective fury of his people reached its zenith, Nwadiebeube leaned closer to the projection and spoke, his voice cutting through the din.

"We have definitively identified the individual responsible for our Queen's abduction," Nwadiebeube proclaimed, his gaze hardening. "A figure whom we all know far too well. A man whose actions we never could have conceived would descend to such treacherous, base treachery. It was Osita, the former sovereign of the Osita Kingdom."

The pronouncement landed with the weight of a falling stone upon the realm.