The Guardian gods
Chapter 284

Chapter 284: 284

"Knowing this, am I still going to proceed as planned with my sister?" Ikenga asked.

"Of course," Zarvok answered simply as he moved away to pick up another book.

Ikenga closed the book he was holding just as an imp appeared from the shadows. The imp bowed and gestured, "This way, your highness."

Ikenga took one last look at Zarvok before following the imp. After they left the library, Zarvok looked back at the space where Ikenga had been, licking his lips with his serpentine tongue.

"A god would have made a great delicacy. Too bad it was an origin god," he murmured, looking back down at the book he was holding. "Surely this new world will have a god or a strong soul to quench my thirst."

Ikenga followed the imp down the dimly lit corridor, his mind still reeling from his conversation with Zarvok. The imp was small and unassuming, its leathery wings tucked neatly against its back as it scurried ahead. Sensing an opportunity to glean more information, Ikenga decided to make small talk.

"So, how long have you been serving Zarvok?" Ikenga asked casually, keeping pace with the imp.

The imp glanced back, its beady eyes narrowing slightly. "Long enough, your highness," it replied, its voice raspy and low. "Lord Zarvok values those who are... useful to him."

Ikenga nodded, his expression unreadable. "Useful, yes. And what do you know about this world we’re about to invade? The one with the goblins and ogres."

The imp hesitated for a moment, as if weighing the wisdom of speaking on the matter. "Not much escapes Lord Zarvok’s notice, but there are whispers," it finally said. "The goblins and ogres may seem weak, but their world... it’s different. Some say the abyss itself watches over it, that it has plans for those who dwell there."

Ikenga raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Plans? Like what?"

The imp shrugged its small shoulders, continuing down the hall. "Who can say? The abyss is a mystery, even to those who serve it. But if Lord Zarvok is interested, it must be something significant. Perhaps the goblins and ogres are only the beginning."

Ikenga frowned slightly. "The beginning of what?"

The imp’s eyes flickered with something akin to fear, but it quickly masked the emotion. "The beginning of a larger game, your highness. The abyss plays for keeps, and so does Lord Zarvok. You and your sister are strong, but even the strong can be pawns in a greater scheme."

Ikenga nodded slowly. "Interesting. You’ve been helpful, imp."

The imp bowed its head. "Thank you, your highness. I live to serve."

When they reached the door to his quarters, Ikenga paused and looked down at the imp. "One last thing. Have you ever seen Lord Zarvok hesitate? Or doubt his course of action?"

The imp’s eyes widened slightly, surprised by the question. "No, your highness. Lord Zarvok is always certain, always focused. Hesitation is not in his nature."

Ikenga smiled thinly. "Good to know."

With that, he stepped into his quarters, the door closing behind him with a soft thud. Alone, Ikenga allowed his thoughts to swirl freely. It didn’t take long before the door to his quarters opened again, and Keles walked in.

Ikenga didn’t mind her presence as the room’s interior shifted to display a phantom sight. The phantom at this moment was high in the sky, overlooking the entire outpost and its new look.

From the outpost, wisps of yellow light unseen by others were being drawn towards him, absorbed into his body. He noticed that playing roles, setting the background, and putting the spotlight on someone of his choice strengthened him in ways his sight didn’t fully understand.

Currently, in the outpost, there was an overwhelming sensation of expectation, a desire to show off and be in the spotlight, emanating from every gargoyle.

The progress they had made in these past months, working together, had the gargoyles looking forward to a future where their race stood at the top of this layer.

This emotion had been strengthening the phantom all this while, but sadly, it would soon end as he had received a message from his god informing him that the expedition was starting soon.

Phantom’s eyes glowed a deep yellow as he pondered the emotions that would arise from the gargoyles once they learned they wouldn’t be given enough time to grow.

Somewhere in the same abyss, a white castle could be seen. A closer look revealed it had been crafted from resilient spider webs. This area was ruled by the spider queen.

Similar to Zarvok, the spider queen, Vorenza, had a thick book in front of her, showing the picture of a goblin and an ogre. As a competitor for the demon lord throne, she too had been informed that the time for the expedition was near.

Vorenza knew she was already losing to Zarvok, as he had his hands on the two gods. She wasn’t sure what Zarvok planned to do with them, but she knew she couldn’t let things play out the way he wanted.

Her slender fingers traced the edge of the page as she considered her options. She knew she was losing ground. Zarvok’s strength was growing, bolstered by the gods’ favor, and her own influence was beginning to wane. The time for subtlety was slipping away, along with the advantage she had always relied upon.

The spider queen knew that Zarvok’s alliances made him bold, but they also made him predictable. He would act with the certainty that the gods’ favor gave him, and that certainty could be turned against him. Vorenza’s strength lay in the unexpected.

As she turned another page of the tome, a new strategy began to take shape in her mind. She wouldn’t confront Zarvok directly; that would be folly. Instead, she would weave a trap—a complex and intricate web that would catch him off guard. She would exploit his arrogance, his belief that he was invincible with the gods behind him.

Vorenza could guess what Zarvok had in mind with the gods. It was a strategy she herself might have employed if she had the two deities under her control. The strength of the gods wasn’t necessary—strength was something neither of them lacked. Instead, it was the influence, the sway that a divine presence held over mortals, that they, as demons, were deprived of.

Zarvok understood this well. With the gods at his side, he wasn’t just gaining power; he was extending his reach into possibilities that had always been just out of their grasp. Mortals would flock to him, drawn not just by fear, but by a misguided hope that the gods offered them protection and purpose. Zarvok would use that to bolster his forces, to make himself indispensable, and in doing so, his ascension would be all but assured.

Vorenza could see the pieces falling into place. Zarvok would move swiftly, using the gods to consolidate his power, perhaps to claim dominion over the mortals and expand his influence in the new world. With the gods’ favor, he would craft a narrative of invincibility, one that would draw both allies and sycophants to his side. The bigger the pie he claimed, the closer he would come to securing his place as the demon lord.

But that very boldness, the predictability of his ambition, would be his downfall if Vorenza had anything to do with it. She had learned long ago that the most dangerous enemy was the one who believed they could not be touched. Zarvok’s confidence would lead him into her web, where every move he made would tighten the strands around him.

Her strategy began to crystallize. She would not challenge him where he was strongest. Instead, she would undermine the foundations of his plans, striking at the elements he considered secure. The mortals who flocked to him for divine protection would be the first to falter. Vorenza knew that fear and faith were two sides of the same coin, and it would take only a whisper, a shadow, to turn that faith into doubt.

She would sow discord, planting seeds of suspicion and fear. The gods’ influence, which Zarvok relied upon so heavily, could be twisted. Mortals were fickle, easily swayed by the unknown, by the suggestion that the gods might not be as omnipotent as they seemed. If Vorenza could fracture the mortals’ belief, even slightly, Zarvok’s grand strategy would begin to fall apart.

Keles moved silently across the room, her presence a calming contrast to the turbulent thoughts swirling within Ikenga. She was a master at reading his moods, and today was no exception. Her sharp eyes observed the subtle tension in his posture, the way his fingers drummed lightly against the armrest of his chair.

"Phantom grows stronger," she remarked, her voice a soft murmur, barely above a whisper. "The gargoyles’ expectations feed him well."

Ikenga nodded, his gaze still fixed on the phantom sight before him. "The gargoyles have found something to rally around. But it’s all so fragile. They don’t know what’s coming."

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