The Guardian gods Chapter 921

It was right in the middle of this delicate process that Ember’s celestial declaration echoed through the air and reached his ears. His concentration shattered instantly. The sudden shock rippled through his mana pathways as he realized the sheer weight of what those words signified, the ascension of a new god.

He listened closely to the words echoing through the air. Having witnessed the ascension of enough deities throughout his long life, he understood that such proclamations were essentially divine manifestos, a public declaration laying bare the core nature and domain of the newly born god.

From the resonant phrases, keywords like craft and civilization hung heavy in the air. Then, the voice proclaimed its true identity.

"Ember, the god of forge and creation," Tyrion murmured, rolling the name and title over his tongue. Suddenly, his eyes flew wide, his breath catching in his throat. "Ember?!"

He had heard that name before, and it was a relatively recent memory. Tide had mentioned Ember in passing, at the time and even up until this very moment, Tyrion had simply assumed Ember was a mere subordinate of Tide, a skilled underling working in the shadows of Tide’s grand designs.

But now, the truth crashed down on him. Ember was no subordinate, nor was he anyone common. At the time he was with Tide, Ember had been a god in the waiting, and now, he had crossed the threshold into full divinity. The implications stunned him, the legendary forger Tide had spoken of with such casual familiarity... had been Ember all along.

He began connecting the remaining dots at a frantic pace. Ember was a master forger, which meant Ember knows of the mage tower and have actively engineered its creation.

This leds to the thought that, Ember must have come across the tome at sometime, perhaps even losing track of it at some point. But the very second that thought surfaced, Tyrion forcefully denied it. The Tome and the mage tower were fundamental, necessary catalysts for Ember’s ascension, something of such staggering importance would never simply be misplaced or lost to the wind.

Moreover, judging by Tide’s past actions, it was entirely clear that Tide never acted like the Tome was missing and was looking for it, that is, assuming it was ever truly lost in the first place. Surely, if such a critical relic had gone astray, Ember would have brought it up with Tide to ensure the secret of their work never leaked.

Tyrion stared down at the tome resting on his desk, his boots scraping softly against the floor as he took an involuntary step back from it. If his deductions were correct, the original Tome belonging to Ember and Tide had never been lost at all.

The volume sitting before him right now had to be a meticulously crafted replica, discarded deliberately by someone and imbued with enough power to exert the exact pull it initially had on him.

Tide was no fool, their past interaction has shown that. If the artifact was a fake, that meant the very moment he had thrown it out, only for it to land in Tide’s hands, Tide had known it wasn’t the real deal. Yet the god had said nothing, playing him like a complete fool throughout their entire meeting.

The walls of the study suddenly seemed to close in around him, suffocating and tight. The illusion of security he had fought so hard to build was shattered once more, stripped away in a single realization.

Something or someone out there was actively hunting him, and he was nothing more than a puppet being led by the nose.

Right as the thought settled, a distinct, icy sensation gripped him, the premonition that something catastrophic was about to happen, and he was undoubtedly going to be right in the middle of it.

If he weren’t a paragon, he might have dismissed the sensation as mere paranoia born of stress. But as a paragon, such a heavy, instinctual warning was no simple emotion, it was an unmistakable omen.

A spike of fear washed over him as he stared back at the tome. Whatever danger was hurtling toward him, the blueprint of the mage tower contained within those pages was his greatest lifeline, it might very well be the only strength strong enough to keep him alive.

His retreating steps froze. He pivoted and rushed back toward the desk, sweeping the tome up into his hands. Ember’s ascension was definitive proof that he had already completed the construction of a tower, and that original masterpiece was undoubtedly in Tide’s possession now.

The sheer audacity of it still boggled his mind, Ember had crafted a full-fledged mage tower while still entirely mortal, a feat Tyrion was still struggling to fully comprehend. But that monumental achievement was all the evidence he needed. Now that Ember was a full-fledged god, Tyrion understood it was only a matter of time before he began churning out the necessary amount of towers Tide required to supply his coming auction.

Unknown to the sleeping Ember, a paragon was already racing against time, locked in a fierce, silent competition with him.

Meanwhile, in his own realm, Tide waited with a wide, anticipatory smile carved across his face. He had played his part to perfection and was more than ready for the next phase. All that was missing now was for Ember to finally wake up so he could hand over the pre-molded, ready-made components, allowing the new god to begin his forging work in earnest.

Tide could hardly wait to execute the grand blueprint for the auction, a master plan carefully laid out for him by Ikenga. Ever since that blueprint had been handed to him, Tide found himself constantly studying it. The sheer depth contained within its pages was astonishing, even he a merchant god, found himself learning lessons from it.

It made him question the origin of his uncle’s deep wisdom. The meticulous planning, the structural setup, the psychological hooks, none of these ideas could have simply materialized out of thin air. These were concepts that must have been thoroughly tested, refined, and foolproofed to guarantee an absolute success rate once the blueprint was put into motion.

How he wished he could hear his uncle’s tales of adventure with his aunt Keles, so much must have happened to forge the deep wisdom reflected in this knowledge. Even Krogan, who his relationship with had blossomed through their close collaboration over the past few months had been utterly taken aback by the breathtaking level of detail and foresight woven into the blueprint.

Meanwhile, Ember finally stirred from his deep slumber, waking up to a loud celebration thrown in his honor by his father, Ikem, and Ursula. While not every deity in the pantheon was in attendance, there were more than enough present to show Ember that he was officially and warmly welcomed into their divine ranks.

Yet, his respite was short-lived. Tide wasted zero time, instantly transferring a staggering mountain of raw materials directly into Ember’s realm.

Ember stared in temporary shock at the sheer volume of supplies filling the space, but the mechanics of his craft had fundamentally changed. Now, with a simple flex of his divine will, the materials in his realm could be shifted, shaped, and manipulated precisely as he imagined. Even so, Ember loved the physical labor of his craft far too much to rely solely on the control his realm granted. Grasping his heavy tools once more, he smiled and happily got back to work.

Down in the Southern continent, Chen sat at the head of the polished obsidian war table, temple throbbing as he stared blankly at the map of the realm. A bitter, suffocating irony settled over him, he was the sovereign, yet he was suffocating beneath the very veil of secrecy he had woven to protect his status. Because he had kept his true motives hidden from his own court and imperial advisors for too long, they were now zealously working against his direct interests, completely convinced they were acting in his best and highest good.

To compound his misery, the return of his father had dragged the four great clans out from the shadows. Like vultures smelling blood, they stalked the borders of the imperial court, never missing an opportunity to sneer in his face, reminding him with thinly veiled contempt that their ancient, localized armies would never bow to his command.

The vaulted ceiling of the council chamber only amplified the discordant hum of his lords bickering below, none of them realizing the delicate tightrope Chen was trying to walk.

"The empire has nothing to lose if we help the Emperor’s sister, if anything, there is much to be gained," a senior minister argued, slamming a clenched fist against the table with a frustration that echoed off the stone walls. "A victory with the Empire’s help would mean an immediate expansion of power for the Empire and a greater right to speak and exert our influence far beyond this continent!"

Before Chen could even rub his aching temples, another high-ranking noble chimed in eagerly, blind to the Emperor’s distress.