The Guardian gods-Chapter 434

But it was not enough.

She rose from her throne, stepping forward as her fire followed her will.

She pressed her hand against the scorched earth—and from beneath her fingertips, life erupted.

Not in the way of forests or rivers, but in the way her divinity dictated.

Hearths began to take shape—great and small, floating islands of stone and fire, each burning with a welcoming glow. These would be places of refuge, homes for those seeking warmth, seeking solace.

From the flames, beings began to emerge.

First were the Keepers of the Hearth, spirits wreathed in gentle embers, taking form as humanoid figures with smoldering eyes and soft, flickering bodies. They would tend to the fires of this world, ensuring that no warmth ever faded.

Next came the Infernal Sentinels, beings of living magma with blackened armor-like hides. They would be the watchers, the protectors—ensuring that no force could ever shatter the bonds Ursula sought to forge.

And then—

She lifted her hands, calling upon her greatest creation yet.

The Ascendant Flameborn.

Beings of flame and light, given true form—neither fully spirit nor fully mortal. They carried her essence, her belief that family could always rise again. They would be the inheritors of her warmth, the children of her realm.

As they took their first breath, Ursula exhaled.

She could feel it now. The shift.

A place of resurgence.

A place where those lost could find warmth.

A place where bonds, no matter how strained, would never truly break.

As the flames continued to spread, the embers dancing like stars across her realm, Ursula sat back upon her throne.

And for the first time in a long, long while—

She felt at peace.

Her rune pillar was already set in place amidst the river of magma.

Ursula sadly has no idea, the impact of what she just did with her realm. It was to be expected as since birth, the fire element has always welcomed her. She failed to recognize that these fire elemental beings she thought she called forth on her own was a congratulatory gift given to her from the elemental realm.

On the southern continent, Roth arrived in the imperial capital, catching a glimpse of the people who might one day become his people’s enemies. His journey took him past the city until he reached a mountain eerily similar to the one his people inhabited. This mountain was naturally shrouded in mist, teeming with vibrant life.

Carrying the rune pillar, Roth fought against the trance threatening to overtake him, resisting the temptation to step beyond the boundary and ascend before laying the pillar where it felt right.

Surveying the surroundings, he took a deep breath. He wasn’t ready to leave the mortal world just yet—but when the time came, he would return.

His form shrank and shifted into that of a bat, wings spreading as he took to the sky, heading back to his people.

On the northern continent, in the endless expanse of ice and snow, a massive werewolf could be seen striding forward, carrying a large rune pillar.

As Maul pressed on, he suddenly realized he had crossed an unseen boundary. The snow beneath his feet had vanished, replaced by a frozen path of deep blue ice. The howling wind grew fiercer, cutting through him with an unfamiliar chill.

Taking a moment to observe his surroundings, Maul noted that the ice formations here were ancient—older than even the gods. Curious, he extended a claw and slashed at the ice. The sensation and feedback told him everything he needed to know without even looking—he hadn’t left a single mark.

Grinning, he continued forward, the relentless cold beginning to seep into him—a sensation he had never experienced before.

At that moment, as the howling wind swirled around him, he recalled the domain he had comprehended. Just like that, Maul fell into a trance, the ice element stirring to life around him, whispering the same question that all demigods faced:

"What kind of god do you see yourself as?"

Among all demigods, Maul had experienced the loss of loved ones more than any other. The frozen continent where he now sought to develop his power was both a blessing and a curse to him.

As the son of the Goddess of the Moon and Motherhood, he cherished this world of pristine whiteness. Yet, it was this very world he loved that had also taken the most from him. The merciless snow and unyielding cold had claimed those dear to him, not just through its harshness but through the dangers lurking beneath its serene surface.

The barren, snow-covered lands offered little in the way of resources, forcing him to hunt far from home. But each time he left, he left his family vulnerable—exposed to the watchful eyes of predators and the monstrous creatures that prowled these frozen wastes.

At the time, he had not been strong enough to protect himself, let alone his children. Loss became an old companion. But what shattered him was the day a great bird swooped down and carried away his only daughter before his very eyes.

Thankfully, his son Wulv survived. Wulv had grown into a strong and composed man. And he himself despite their past, had found love with a female dragon. Together, they bore a daughter—a child Maul showered with affection, cherishing the second chance fate had granted him. Through her, he found an opportunity to mend the wounds of the past.

Yet, that past was never forgotten. It shaped Maul into the man he was today—a king beloved by his people, a father adored by his children, and a lover cherished by his wife.

But to those who dared to stand against him, Maul showed a side of himself that his people never witnessed—a vengeful, merciless force that harbored only hatred for those outside his circle of love and loyalty.

It was this part of him that shaped his domain—a realm of ice-cold vengeance, a frozen abyss where the souls of those who perished under his claws were bound for eternity. Chained within his domain, they suffered the relentless torment of the howling wind, their agony unending.

And when the time for battle came, these tortured souls became his vanguard, capturing more of the wretched fools who dared threaten him and his loved ones.

It was then that understanding dawned upon him—the kind of god he was meant to be.

A god of cold vengeance and unwavering protection.

A deity who embodied the relentless cruelty of winter and the unyielding ferocity of a parent guarding their young. He did not concern himself with justice in a broader sense—only with the safety and well-being of those he held dear.

As part of his people’s power system, Maul attained the constellation Corvus (The Crow). While often associated with death, the crow also symbolizes memory, intelligence, and protection.

Crows are seen as messengers between worlds, mirroring Maul’s connection to the souls trapped within his domain. Their inky blackness represents not only the abyss he commands but also the darkness within him—the grief and rage that fuel his every action.

With that, he had his answer and so, she appeared.

Like with all demigods, Nana took a form that would bring Wulv comfort. She was not an imposing deity nor a distant observer—her presence was warm, yet firm, like the quiet embrace of the moon over an endless winter night.

She offered him a knowing smile. "It seems you have found your answer," she said, her voice carrying the weight of certainty.

Maul met her gaze, his golden eyes reflecting the frozen expanse around them. "Yes," he replied, his voice steady. "I will not waver. My path is clear."

The wind stilled for a moment, as if the world itself was listening. The souls within his domain stirred, their chains rattling in anticipation. His constellation, Corvus, shimmered above, a black star in the sky—a reminder of both his burden and his purpose.

Nana’s expression remained unreadable as she studied him. "Then you are ready to take the next step," she said. "But remember, Maul—vengeance and protection are two sides of the same blade. One will always threaten to consume the other."

Maul exhaled, the cold mist curling from his lips. "I know. And I accept that risk."

Nana nodded, satisfied. Then, with a wave of her hand, the sky above them darkened, and a path of silver light unfurled before him—one leading deeper into the divine realm.

The cold winds howled as Maul took a step forward, his figure standing tall amidst the frozen wasteland. The realization of his divinity burned within him—not as a fire, but as an all-consuming frost, a force as relentless and unforgiving as the winter that shaped him.

He turned his gaze to the heavens, to the endless night where Corvus, his constellation, shimmered in silent vigil. His voice, deep and unwavering, carried across the icy expanse.

"I am Maul, God of Cold Vengeance and Unyielding Protection, son of the goddess of Moon and motherhood. I am the biting frost that punishes the wicked, the silent night that watches over its own. To those who threaten my kin, know this—I am the storm that will never relent. I am the winter that does not end."