The Guardian gods Chapter 932

With a sweep of his hand across the floating clauses, he highlighted the first, most brutal mandate inscribed within the glowing script.

"Rule One is the Debt of Expansion," Krogan declared, pointing a finger toward the text as it burned brighter in the open air. "A ready-made Mage Tower requires no upfront gold, because no mortal treasury can hold its price. Instead, your installment is measured in how much you are able to provide back."

"Every city you conquer, every foreign landscape you successfully overwrite with our home world’s conceptual law during a world war, is automatically audited by me, the God of Contracts," Krogan announced, a cruel, pleased smile touching his lips. "A fixed percentage of that newly claimed reality is siphoned straight into Tide’s vaults. You pay in territorial footprint."

A collective murmur rippled through the delegations of the high kingdoms, quickly escalating into tense, nervous whispers. The leaders traded uneasy glances as the true horror of the proposition set in.

To pay in land meant they had to launch total, relentless wars of aggression. There was no option to hide behind fortified walls, no shelter in neutrality, and no path to maintain a peaceful, defensive posture.

Krogan did not pause for their protests, his dark eyes fixed on the assembly as his finger snapped sharply to the next line of burning text.

"Rule Two is the Standstill Penalty," Krogan announced "Do not think you can take the tower, anchor it safely to your capital, and sit in comfort while others bleed."

He leaned forward, the glowing runes reflecting off his cold gaze.

"The nature of the contract dictates that, these Mage Towers during a time of war run entirely on raw, continuous mana generated by active conceptual colonization," Krogan explained. "If your front lines stagnate, if you halt your erosion for a single seasonal cycle, the tower’s mana output will begin to choke."

A heavy dread settled over the high lords as implication set in "Without fresh, conquered territory feeding the contract, the tower will starve," Krogan warned softly. "And when it starves, its defensive shields will not simply fade, they will turn inward, devouring the very domain that anchored them."

He turned his piercing gaze directly onto the godlings, whose faces remained passive, making no shift in expression as they listened to the harrowing terms.

"Rule Three is the Defense Mandate," Krogan intoned, his voice dropping an octave as he leaned in closer to the glowing boundary. "Your expansion means nothing if your foundation rots. If you push forward on the enemy front, but allow your own home soil to be eroded by the enemy’s laws, your debt enters hyper-punitive default."

The God of Contracts narrowed his eyes, letting the threat hang heavy in the air.

"The contract does not forgive weakness," Krogan continued. "If your home territory crumbles under enemy conceptual colonization, the tower triggers an asset-repossession clause. It will forcibly deny ownership, stripping your realm of its protections and shunting itself back to Tide’s vault, leaving your faction naked to open threat."

Tide’s arms spread wide, embracing the tense, dead silence that had fallen over the entire hall. The high kingdoms and the godlings stared up at the terms, their minds racing as they hunted desperately for a flaw, a trick, a way out.

There were none. No loopholes. No hidden clauses of escape. It was a terrifying, flawless alignment of supreme self-interest and total imperial warfare. You conquered, or you were consumed.

"The Origin Gods demand the worlds," Tide whispered, his voice carrying the finality of a gavel dropping on a closed ledger. "I demand the installments. And the God of Contracts ensures that you will fight, you will conquer, and you will not dare to fail."

Lowering his arms, Tide let a dangerous smile touch his lips as he surveyed the paralyzed assembly.

"The floor is open. Who wishes to sign?"

A heavy, suffocating silence gripped the hall, broken only by the low hum of the shimmering contracts. From the delegations of the Osita kingdom, Nwadike stood, his expression tight with a mixture of dread and hard-won realization as he addressed the two gods, his gaze even looking beyond at the Origin gods.

"Has this been the true purpose of this whole auction?" Nwadike demanded, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings. "To get us all in debt and tie us to one ship?"

Tide answered him without a flicker of hesitation.

"Indeed, it has," Tide replied smoothly. "For the benefit of all and for the safety of our world. This was the action the Origin Gods decided was best for our world. It was the only way to guarantee loyalty."

A sudden, subtle shift rippled through Tide’s demeanor. The presence of divinity vanished, replaced by that of a ruler who had once worn a crown and bled for his people.

"You all know best, this was the only course of action that made sense," Tide said "Any other way, none of these towers would ever have made their way into your hands."

He swept a hand toward the lower stands, where the anxious masses still watched in frozen silence.

"Now, ask yourselves," Tide challenged, his gaze sweeping over the high lords. "How many of those in the lower stands held a shard and made a trade with me for the materials needed to build a tower? Towers that, if built by them, would pose a catastrophic risk to all of you, as nothing would ever stand in their way."

He let the warning settle deep into their bones before driving the final nail home.

"This is even more the case when they now fly the banner of the Hegemons," Tide said, spelling out the terrifying reality of the geopolitical board. "The same ironclad rules that bind you all under the cosmic law no longer bind them. And because they answer to no cosmic ledger, they can betray you, turn coat, and do as they will without consequence."

Even though there were vital pieces of the puzzle he conveniently left unsaid, the core of what Tide spoke remained an absolute, undeniable truth.

He had omitted the bitter reality that even if the frantic scavengers in the lower stands somehow managed to gather every single material required, they still lacked the sacred, foundational components needed to ever make a Mage Tower function. Without those hidden keystones, any tower they built would be nothing more than a glorified, hollow monument to their own hubris.

Nor did he mention the truth regarding those who now flew the banner of the Hegemons, how they are prey’s spotted by the patient, unblinking gaze of the Origin Gods. They were simply playing with their food, orchestrating a grand hunt while carefully ensuring the victims never felt the predator’s breath on their necks until it was far too late.

As these dark, calculating thoughts drifted through Tide’s mind, his gaze unexpectedly drifted across the hall.

His eyes locked onto Tyrion.

The man was staring right back at him, the heavy tension radiating from his posture practically palpable. Tyrion was the only person in the entire assembly who recognized the omissions, painfully aware that Tide had deliberately withheld the most devastating parts of the grand design.

Yet, for all his insight, Tyrion remained utterly paralyzed. He was too terrified to call Tide out, his own precarious position keeping him securely bound by fear. He knew too well that opening his mouth to expose the deception would only draw unwanted gaze straight onto himself.

The high kingdoms remained in a frantic debate, their leaders weighing the crushing burdens of the ledger against the terror of obsolescence. But that hesitation was shattered as the godlings rose in unison from their elevated stands.

Without a shred of hesitation, without a single whispered consultation, they strode forward toward the glowing expanse of the contracts.

Since the dawn of their race, the godlings had carried a singular, immutable truth etched into their very blood, they were the appointed protectors of this realm. They were the vanguard birthed by the Origin Gods themselves, engineered specifically to stand at the forefront and safeguard their homeworld against any existential threat. It was a holy duty and a heavy burden that the Origin Gods could never fully trust fragile, self-interested humanity to shoulder alone.

Truthfully, the contract was almost redundant for them. Even without Krogan’s binding runes or Tide’s ruthless coercion, the godlings would have bled to the last breath to ensure their world emerged victorious in the coming war. It was woven into their very existence.

Yet, this situation was fundamentally different.

To fulfill their sacred purpose, strong will and martial might were not longer enough. The world was shifting into an era of conceptual colonization, and to stand as absolute shields, they needed absolute power.

The Mage Tower was that vital, missing instrument.

Therefore, signing the contract was not an act of submission, but a tactical necessity. And more importantly, it was not an inescapable eternal prison, it was a transaction. Through relentless labor, bloody conquest, and meticulous progress on the front lines, the debt would eventually be paid in full. One day, through their own unstoppable momentum, the towers would transition from borrowed weapons to entirely, unconditionally theirs.