The Guardian gods Chapter 950

He forced his leaden limbs to move, each step an agonizing reminder of his self-imposed decay. Yet, the sheer friction of walking, feeling the cold stone beneath his bare feet instead of shifting through space like a ghost grounded him. It was a humiliating return to mortality, a reality that would become real if he didn’t play his card well.

Tyrion out in the open could only manage to keep his outward appearance steady and strong, hiding the violent turbulence raging just beneath his skin. For a fleeting moment, he began to appreciate being overlooked. After being shut in for so long, the sudden resurgence of his outgoing appearance should have drawn immediate eyes, yet the eyes flowed past him as though he were invisible.

His joy didn’t last long. The moment he truly accepted this anonymity, a sickening wave of instability fractured his law core, sending jagged ripples of phantom pressure through his very being. The punishment for his prolonged containment was catching up, threatening to unravel the very foundation of his core from the inside out.

He wanted to scream out in pain and white-hot anger, but he forced his jaw shut, knowing it would achieve nothing. Drawing attention now was a death sentence. Instead, his whole focus narrowed down to a single, desperate anchor, the set of tomes clutched tightly in his hands.

The texts held secrets that could disrupt the entire world, yet holding them was a double-edged sword. He needed them spread out across the corners of the world, a massive logistical feat he could never accomplish alone, nor with his current depleted strength. With how chillingly vigilant the current Nana was, any unauthorized movement of such magnitude would trigger an immediate hunt. He would be found out, cornered, and executed before he could even lay the groundwork. He had to move with absolute precision, and time was running dangerously thin.

Options were agonizingly thin, leaving him with only one direction to turn, the southern continent. It was the treacherous land where the Tome had miraculously found its way into his hands, a forbidden territory globally shunned because of the unfathomable existence lurking within its borders. He was entirely out of options, even if every civilized realm rejected him and offered no shelter, Tyrion had a desperate, lingering feeling that he would be accepted the moment he revealed what he carried.

The entity residing there was a known enemy of the Origin Gods. Tyrion knew all too well how fragile and limited his own existence was, making the very thought of standing against the Origin Gods a terrifying, suicidal proposition. Yet, the entity in the southern continent dared to defy those monsters. Exactly how his recovered tomes could be wielded against the Origin Gods remained a mystery to him, but at this point, he cared not. Survival meant alignment with the devil, and he was ready to step into the dark.

It was not his turn to care about game played by beings above him, all he needed now was a single win. After an endless succession of devastating losses, he desperately needed the sweet taste of victory to stabilize his fracturing law core before anything else tore him apart.

With the quiet assistance of his family, who hastily arranged his means of transportation, Tyrion boarded the vessel and set off across the treacherous waters toward the southern continent. He had no concrete plan on how to make contact with the entity that ruled those forbidden shores. Instead, his strategy was dangerously simple, he would prance around the owned territory like wounded prey, bleeding just enough aura to draw the apex predator, praying he would eventually be noticed.

Standing at the ship’s bow, Tyrion watched the dark shores of his territory recede into the gray fog as they sailed further into the open sea. He knew his next return to these lands would not be the quiet, humiliating retreat of today. When he came back, it would be with a deafening bang, an apocalyptic explosion of light that would reshape the world and let everyone who cast him aside know he had survived.

Years bled by fast, as new religions and fervent faiths sprouted like wild grass among the human population from all sides. Meanwhile, the high kingdom operated tirelessly from the shadows, throwing up political and magical blockades to ensure these rising cults and doctrines never breached their borders.

Further north, the fragile peace shattered six months after the Origin Gods’ pruning. The war between the Silver Kingdom and the people of Björn reignited with a vengeance. Seeming utterly unaffected by the cosmic pruning that left other nations reeling, the people of Björn surged forward, kickstarting the conflict with unprecedented intensity.

Bolstered by imperial backing of the empire, and after months of grueling stalemates at the outer fortifications, the coalition finally smashed through the barrier, pushing the Silver Kingdom deep into its own territory and forcing them back onto another layer of the heavily fortified defenses they had constructed.

The catastrophic breach of the wall materialized with the arrival of Prince Leiko. He descended from the sky like a blazing meteor, crashing directly into the stronghold wall, a devastating one-man army carving through battalions of soldiers and the formidable fifth-tier guardians stationed along the walls.

Prince Leiko’s devastating presence on the wall instantly drew every eye and tactical focus, turning him into the ultimate target. The army of silver kingdoms soldiers on the wall turned to him, snuffed out or captured, the death of a royal figure of such immense stature would utterly shatter the morale of the Björn forces.

Yet, the prince proved to be a harbinger born purely for slaughter. Even as waves of defenders crashed over him in an overwhelming tide, he held his ground with brutal tenacity, buying just enough precious time for the army of Björn and empire to surge forward to the wall, a wall no longer heavily fortified with the action of the prince.

With a ferocious, synchronized effort, the massive barrier was completely overrun and dismantled by the advancing army. Above the din of battle, Prince Leiko’s voice cut through the carnage with a chilling declaration "The gift of Björn is the gift of blood!"

His triumphant cry triggered a deafening, unified roar from the thousands of Björn soldiers pressing through the ruins. The shockwave of sound carried far across the plains, easily piercing the inner defenses of the Silver Kingdom. Left isolated behind their secondary barricades, the citizens and soldiers of the Silver Kingdom could only listen in mounting dread, forced to imagine the unstoppable beasts of slaughter waiting just on the other side, eager to tear through their final defenses.

His action made Yuki abandoned her passiveness, as he took an active role in the war, not as a frontline combatant, but as a master architect of psychological terror and strategic isolation from behind the lines.

She systematically drove the Silver Kingdom’s defensive retreats to their absolute limits. Every supply route and trade path linking the kingdom to its external allies was cut off and placed under unyielding surveillance, patrolled by her operatives disguised as ruthless bandits.

Nothing slipped through her net. Supply lines dried up entirely, and even the skies above the kingdom were choked off, resulting in more than half of all incoming cargo and reinforcements vanishing before they ever reached the front lines.

The Silver Kingdom had intended to hunker down behind their fortifications, playing a protracted defensive game designed to bleed the Björn forces dry and shatter their morale over time. Yuki decided to weaponize that exact strategy against them, turning their patient caution into an excruciating trap.

She plans on transforming their impenetrable walls into a claustrophobic prison, choking off their resources until the Silver Kingdom found themselves completely trapped in a suffocating, total defensive war state with no escape in sight.

If not for her people’s bloodthirsty, unrelenting momentum, Yuki would have ordered a complete halt to their advance. Tactical doctrine dictated securing the newly conquered territories, fortifying the perimeter, and waiting out the enemy.

The geopolitical board was already heavily tipped in her favor. The Silver Kingdom was on a ticking clock, with only months or perhaps a year before internal collapse tore them apart from within. Their dwindling stockpiles were entirely insufficient for a protracted siege, and the meager supplies smuggled in by opportunistic allies would never sustain them long-term.

The entire equation hinged on a single, volatile variable, Wulv. If he had a sudden change of heart and committed the full might of the Wolfing forces to rescue the Silver Kingdom, Yuki knew her entire strategy would shatter. She was acutely aware of her limits, and a direct clash with the full might of the Wolfing kingdom would obliterate her carefully constructed layout.

Yet, confidence anchored her decisions, fueled by an unprecedented shift in her correspondence with Wulv. Their recent letters were longer, more frequent, and carried an unexpected depth of dialogue. While he steadfastly refused to posture as a traditional ally, his words made one crucial guarantee crystal clear, his people would never raise their blades against hers.