Chapter 214: Kill the Apostle
The grand palace room plunged into a heavy, suffocating silence.
The three True Gods sat frozen around the carved ivory chess table, their gazes locked onto one another as Makane’s grave question echoed through the silent hall.
The God of the Evening was the first to break the stillness, slowly setting his golden goblet down with a soft, metallic click.
He shook his head, his brow furrowed in deep concentration.
"I have traversed the upper realms for millennia, Makane," the Evening God spoke softly, "and I have never once heard of a deity claiming the title of the ’God of Beast.’ There are beast-gods from our past life, forgotten pantheons of the wild lands, but a single entity claiming absolute sovereignty over all beasts?
That title does not exist in any registered celestial ledger. Atleast not in this game"
The God of the Unshadowed stroked his chin, his expression equally puzzled. "I must agree with the Evening God. Even within the vast archives of our Sun Pantheon, there is no record of such a deity holding a seat in the heavens.
Tell me, Makane... is this ’God of Beast’ actively standing against you?"
Makane nodded slowly, his emerald eyes burning with a dark, bitter light.
"The Church slowly destroying my influence in the Northern Hashian Mountains belongs directly to this God of Beast. Their enforcers are methodically hunting my clergy and erasing our presence before my faith can take root."
Makane leaned forward, placing his hands flat on the ivory table as he looked at his two companions.
"I ask of you both... help me investigate this matter. Use your personal networks, your mortal shrines, and your divine observers to search for any trace of this entity."
"You have our word, Makane," the Evening God promised without hesitation. "We shall mobilize our spy networks across the upper and lower planes immediately. If this God of Beast has left a footprint anywhere in the cosmos, we will uncover his true identity in no time."
"Indeed," the God of the Unshadowed added, nodding firmly. "No rogue god can operate in the shadows for long when multiple pantheons begin pulling the threads."
The Evening God paused for a moment, his eyes narrowing as a sudden thought struck him.
"However... while our networks are vast, they pale in comparison to a certain isolated power. If you truly require absolute, undeniable clarity on this mystery, Makane, you should contact the God of Information."
The God of the Unshadowed gasped softly at the mention of that name, while the Evening God continued.
"Telvanus alone holds the totality of all information regarding the heavens and the earth. If this ’God of Beast’ exists, Telvanus already knows his name, his pathway, and his secrets."
An hour later...
The God of the Evening and the God of the Unshadowed bade their farewells, departing from the floating palace aboard their divine conveyances to begin their respective investigations.
Left alone in the quiet, expansive solar, Makane paced restlessly back and forth across the polished white marble floor.
His broad shoulders were tense, his vibrant crimson hair swaying with his agitated movements.
Deep, volatile frustration boiled within his divine core.
If the absolute laws of the cosmos allowed True Gods to descend freely into the mortal planes, Makane would have descended in his true, world-shattering form days ago, unleashing a holy apocalypse upon the Northern Hashian Mountains to completely vaporize this mysterious God of Beast and every single one of his followers.
Patience, Makane, he commanded himself, forcing his breathing to slow as he suppressed the surging wave of divine wrath. Impulsiveness is the downfall of lesser fools like Damascus.
As he walked past the high balcony, a sharp, brilliant spark of inspiration suddenly struck his mind. Makane’s steps came to a halt.
A slow, wicked, and highly calculated smile slowly curled his lips.
It was far too early to deploy an Angel from his superior’s vanguard.
Unleashing an Angel required substantial divine expenditure and would draw the eyes of the other high pantheons.
Before escalating to such extreme measures, Makane needed to test the waters.
He needed to know precisely what caliber of opponent he was dealing with down in the lower realm.
"I shall throw a bait," Makane whispered to the empty air, his emerald eyes flashing with divine malice.
"Let us see if this ’God of Beast’ takes the hook."
***
Meanwhile, down in the mortal plane...
Deep within the soaring, mist-wrapped peaks of the Northern Hashian Mountains, on Mount Ryogoku where the Glorious Mythical Sect was established, night had settled completely.
Priest Arnold had been assigned a lavish, high-ranking elder’s sanctuary—the private quarters that had once belonged to the late, slain Silver Lotus Elder.
The room was grand, decorated with silk tapestries and rare spirit-stone incense burners, but the red-haired priest paid no mind to the luxuries around him.
In the center of the dark room, illuminated only by the faint silver rays of the moon, Priest Arnold was down on his knees.
His hands were clasped tightly against his chest, his head bowed, and his white-and-gold holy robes trailing on the cold stone floor.
With his eyes tightly closed, Priest Arnold began to chant his nightly incantation, his voice echoing in a deep, reverent whisper:
"Blessed art thou O Great Eternal One.
"You are the Crowned Lord of the Firmament."
"You are the Master of the Winds."
"You are the Unyielding Light of the Celestial Canopy."
"You are the God of the Sky whose divine throne floats eternal above the clouds of mortal men."
"Please... thy humble son comes before thee seeking thy divine grace. Please, bless me..."
He prayer in ancient Lydorian language.
RIPPLE.
Suddenly, the ambient temperature in the room dropped to zero. The air surrounding Priest Arnold violently rippled like a stone thrown into a quiet pond.
Even with his eyes locked shut, Priest Arnold’s consciousness was abruptly violently yanked out of his physical body.
FROOSH!
In the span of a single heartbeat, the priest no longer felt the cold stone floor of his private quarters beneath his knees.
He opened his spiritual eyes, gasping in pure shock as he found himself standing in the center of a vast, terrifyingly familiar landscape—the desolate, glassified crater of the fallen Kaelos City.
High above his head, the sky was torn open in a swirling vortex of golden clouds.
Dozens of majestic, towering eagles made of pure, radiant light soared through the heaven, their screeches ringing like war horns.
A fierce, howling whirlwind roared across the desolate wasteland, whipping Priest Arnold’s robes wildly around his frame.
Priest Arnold instantly dropped to both knees upon the scorched glass, trembling in profound, absolute awe.
"My Lord..." Arnold gasped, tears of holy devotion welling in his eyes.
Then, cutting directly through the roaring gale, a supreme, thunderous whisper echoed straight into the core of his soul—a voice that carried the absolute, unyielding authority of the heavens:
"Kill the Apostle of the God of Beast."