The Guardian gods-Chapter 771

The force of his ascent scattered lava in every direction. Ash and sparks spiraled upward in his wake as he cut through the smoke-filled sky, heading toward a place few beings could perceive.

His destination was Ikenga’s realm.

A boundary hidden from ordinary sight. A domain so concealed that most did not even know it existed, let alone where it lay. Only those with the right awareness or the right connection could find the path to it.

Red disappeared into the distant haze.

Silence settled over the volcano once more.

Ember stood still for a moment longer, watching the sky where Red had vanished. Then, without ceremony, he let his hammer fall from his hand.

It struck the volcanic stone with a thunderous impact, shaking the summit and sending cracks spidering outward.

Ember turned and walked toward the crater.

As he moved, his clothes fell away, burned by proximity and discarded without care. The heat intensified with each step, yet his pace remained steady.

Then he dove.

His body disappeared into the molten lava without hesitation.

This was routine.

Whenever Red awakened from a long slumber and left the volcano, Ember returned to it.

A dragon’s body was treasure in every sense. The residual essence left behind in the magma, shed scales, condensed heat, fragments of hardened draconic energy were invaluable to his craft. What Red naturally released during his rest became materials no forge elsewhere could ever produce.

The volcano was not just Red’s resting place. It was Ember’s treasury.

Unlike many who sought the path to the Sixth Tier, Ember found himself drawn instead to the idea of godhood.

It simply felt right to him, part of that certainty came from his heritage. The Ember Cursed Clan was not ordinary, and neither was he. But more importantly, unlike many, Ember was clear about what he needed to do. There was no hesitation in him, no wandering between paths. While others explored possibilities, he had already chosen his direction.

Ember understood something simple, ascending for him meant crafting something beyond a mere artifact, it had to be a god-tier artifact.

Not something impressive to mortals or something powerful among strong beings. But something that even the origin gods, beings of divinity and overwhelming strength would find useful.

That was the standard, that was the requirement he set for himself. Because he had been the one to craft the Pillars, the Origin Gods rewarded him. From them, he was granted a Sun Fire, a flame from the Crepuscular Realm.

It was no ordinary flame.

Even with his cursed status, even with a body long accustomed to extreme heat, he found it unbearable. The fire was on a different level entirely. It was not something he could treat like dragon flame or volcanic magma.

Receiving that flame clarified his path.

Through it, Ember came to a realization: Neither the Origin Gods nor the Ascended Gods possessed weapons of their own.

The Origin Gods existed as they were, complete. The Ascended Gods had divinity, but not crafted instruments made to properly bear it.

And that was where Ember saw his place.

In the case of Ascended Gods, he was confident. If he were granted even a glimpse of their divinity, just enough to understand its nature, he believed he could craft a weapon capable of bearing it.

One worthy of a god.

He was, however, prideful.

That pride was the reason his gaze did not rest on the Ascended Godsbut on the Origin Gods themselves.

The small fragment of Sun Fire granted from the Crepuscular Realm made Ember aim higher than his current reach allowed. The flame had been given as a reward, yet it became a challenge instead.

Because he could not control it, he could not forge with it. No matter what material he tested, no matter how he refined his technique, nothing could properly contain it. Any vessel he crafted either cracked under its presence or failed to draw out even a fraction of its true power.

The Sun Fire did not respond to his skill, it judged it.

The only material he had found capable of holding even a glimpse of the flame was what Red left behind during his long slumbers, fragments infused with draconic essence. Those remnants could endure a trace of the Sun Fire without collapsing.

But there were too few, far too few to mold into anything complete. Not enough for a weapon, not enough for an instrument worthy of the gods.

And Ember refused to waste them on something lesser.

He understood that if he wished to take the next step, if he wished to forge something capable of truly containing that flame then the change required was not in the materials alone.

It was in himself. Ember knew that once he crossed that threshold, once he committed fully to this path, he would glimpse his own divinity.

Meanwhile, on the northern continent, across the endless icy plains, a lone figure drifted through the sky.

There was no destination in his movement. No direction guiding him. He floated as though carried by habit rather than intent, a jug of alcohol raised loosely in one hand. His eyes were unfocused, distant, absent like someone who had long ago stopped searching for anything in particular.

The icy plains were known for their merciless winds. Blizzards roamed freely across the frozen land, and the air itself cut like blades.

Yet around him, the winds died. Not even the edge of his clothing stirred, the cold bent away from him.

At that same moment, far beyond mortal sight when Ikenga stepped back into his realm.

The drifting figure stopped even the jug halted mid-tilt before reaching his lips.

For the first time in centuries, something shifted in his eyes. The haze thinned. The emptiness receded. Clarity—slow, unfamiliar—began to return.

"...Home." The word left him quietly and with it came understanding.

He had been searching, wandering. Drifting across skies and continents without knowing what he lacked.

Home, it had always been where it was, he had simply forgotten. The winds across the icy plain surged without warning. Snow lifted violently into the air, spiraling outward in a sudden storm. The sky groaned as currents collided, the sound sharp and harsh, like air being torn apart.

The figure changed.

His form expanded, light bending and reshaping as feathers burst into existence, glistening white against the storm. In place of the wandering man now stood a massive white bird, wings vast and radiant against the gray sky.

The winds stopped the moment the figure appeared. With a single powerful flap of his wings, the storm collapsed into silence.

The enormous white bird vanished from the icy plain in an instant and for a while after his departure, the northern winds did not return as though the wind itself had left with him.

High above the clouds, Red cut through the sky with steady, powerful wingbeats. In one claw he carried a massive cow-like creature, its body limp but intact, a gift and a meal brought along for the visit.

Before him, the clouds were beginning to part.

Through the shifting layers of white and gray, something unseen by most slowly came into view. To Red’s eyes, Ikenga’s realm was not hidden. The boundary shimmered faintly ahead, like heat rising from stone.

It was then that the white bird appeard, no warning, no sound of approach. One moment Red flew alone, the next, a colossal white bird with glistening feathers was beside him, matching his pace effortlessly.

Red paused mid-flight, wings slowing slightly as a familiar scent reached him. Smoke curled from his nostrils as recognition settled in.

Sparks flickered between his teeth when he spoke.

"Is that you, Tweet?"

The white bird seemed to snap back to awareness at the sound. His entire focus had been forward, on the boundary, on home. Only now did he properly register the massive red dragon flying beside him.

In a blur of light, the bird’s form shifted, feathers folding inward as he took on a humanoid shape midair, still moving at impossible speed.

"Ah, if it isn’t Sir Roast-a-Lot," Tweet replied, a grin tugging at his lips. "You sure have grown big, Red." Even with clarity returning to his eyes, his mischievous nature surfaced easily.

Red’s response was immediate, a burst of flame shot from his mouth. Tweet twisted aside smoothly, the fire passing harmlessly behind him.

"The same can be said to you, you overgrown chicken," Red shot back. They continued forward, trading insults as naturally as breathing, their voices echoing between clouds as they crossed the invisible boundary.

The air changed the moment they entered Ikenga’s realm.

Red’s massive draconic form shrank, scales receding as he assumed his humanoid shape. The large cow-like creature floated mid air beside him.

Tweet was already in his humanoid form. The moment his feet touched the ground, he stopped.

He closed his eyes.

Arms spread wide, he drew in a deep breath, long and steady. The air around him shifted violently, currents pulling inward as though the realm itself rushed to meet him.

His chest trembled, tears slipped down his face. For a long moment, he simply stood there, breathing.

Then he threw his head back and roared "I AM BACK HOME!!"