Chapter 493
If their people were to stand before the other godlings... they needed to be more than blood-fed beasts with ancient titles. They needed to prove they were in control—not just of their urges, but of their future.
Roth watched his son carefully. The way Ethan’s silence grew more resolute. The subtle shift in his posture. He knew that look.
With a wave of his hand, Ethan found himself outside the territory but he could hear the voice of Roth in his ear "You have grown well son"
Ethan, confused by the scenery change, adjusted himself before smiling. He turned, cloak trailing behind him like a deep red shadow, heading back to the heart of the budding kingdom.
On the eastern continent, a moment of monumental significance was quietly unfolding—one that would reshape the course of history if handled with care. Nwadiebube, High King of the rising kingdom of Omadi, was filled with an emotion he had long suppressed: pride, pure and unrestrained. It wasn’t often that the weight of history made itself known in the present, but this time, he could feel it. The meeting he was preparing for would be unlike any other in living memory.
The envoy approaching his court was not from a neighboring nation, nor from the confederacies of the north. No—this was a delegation from the southern continent, a place shrouded in mystery and spoken of in myths more often than facts. A land completely isolated for generations, where human civilizations were said to thrive without the direct interference of godlings. That alone had set Nwadiebube’s mind alight with possibilities.
The records—what little existed—suggested that the divine influence in the South was minimal, or at least discreet. Where the godlings of the other continents weaved their wills into mortal affairs like puppet strings, the South had seemingly grown unencumbered, their empires built on human ambition alone. That word—empire—stuck in Nwadiebube’s mind like a sacred hymn.
It had always been his vision, his destiny, to elevate his kingdom into a true empire. Not just a union of tribes or a confederation of city-states, but a continental force—an entity that could rival the godlings in power, in reach, and in myth. To tame the eastern lands and bind them under a single name: Omadi. And now, unexpectedly, a path forward had presented itself, one cloaked in foreign silk and unfamiliar dialects.
The southern envoy had initiated the contact, not the other way around, which both intrigued and unsettled him. In their first cryptic messages—delivered through symbols and translators—they hinted at mutual interests, specifically offering assistance in his rising conflict with Osita. It was an unexpected proposal, and one Nwadiebube was hesitant to ignore. His alliances with Yuki and Björn’s followers had grown increasingly strained in recent months. Promises once made under firelight now felt hollow in the coldness of realpolitik. The more those allies distanced themselves, the more elusive his dreams of dominion became.