Chapter 398
He paused, his gaze unwavering. "The experience made me understand the fear our mother, Nana, has for our safety and our decisions. It made me understand how... coveted we are. Outside of our world, we are a delectable prize, a piece of pie most things want to grab a slice of."
"This world lacks a place for the dead. Your divinity’s feeling wasn’t wrong; what is wrong is your response to its prompting. The Keles I know represent death—cold, yet with an alluring embrace to welcome those who pass. But right now," he stated, his voice flat and unforgiving, "the one standing in front of me is not her." His hand dropped from her shoulder as if it had suddenly turned to ice. "You are allowing an alien world to dictate your actions rather than you dictating what you will do. You are Keles goddess of death, not a puppet of some world’s lack of order."
Keles stood there, stunned. Ikenga’s words hung in the air, sharp and cutting. The casual dismissal of her emotions, the cold assessment of her character, the stark reminder of their unique status as origin gods—it all hit her with the force of a physical blow. She felt a strange mix of anger, hurt, and a chilling sense of self-doubt. Had she truly strayed so far from herself?
She opened her mouth to speak, to defend herself, but no words came. Ikenga’s gaze held her captive, his eyes like chips of obsidian, reflecting nothing but stern judgment. She felt exposed, stripped bare, her vulnerability laid out for him to dissect.
Finally, she managed a weak whisper. "I... I just felt... responsible. For that soul. For its... fate."
Ikenga remained unmoved. "Responsibility is not about succumbing to sentiment," he said, his voice devoid of warmth. "It’s about understanding the consequences of your actions and acting accordingly. You felt a pull, a connection. That is understandable. But you allowed that feeling to dictate your reaction, rather than analyzing the situation with the cold logic that is expected of one who embodies death."
He gestured to the ravaged battlefield. "This world is not ours. Its rules are not ours. We are guests here, observers. We can learn from it, adapt to it, but we cannot allow it to change us. We are the origin gods, Keles. We are the architects of our own destinies, not pawns in some cosmic game."
He turned away, his back to her. "Consider this a lesson, sister. A reminder of who we are, and what we represent. Do not let your emotions cloud your judgment again. Or I will be forced to intervene more directly." The threat hung unspoken in the air, heavy and ominous.
Keles was left standing there, her heart pounding in her chest. She felt a tear prickling at the corner of her eye, but she blinked it back fiercely. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. She would not let him see her weakness.
She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. He was right, she knew, deep down. She had let her emotions get the better of her. She had allowed the strangeness of this world to affect her more than she should have. And Ikenga, ever the pragmatist, had called her out on it.
A spark of defiance ignited within her. She would not be lectured like a child. She would not be dictated to. She was Keles, goddess of death. She was not some sentimental fool.
She would learn from this experience, as Ikenga had advised. But she would not be cowed. She turned to look at Ikenga retreating back, a newfound resolve burning in her eyes. The conversation was not over. Not by a long shot.