Chapter 781: 781

The wing bones creaked under pressure. The drake struggled, muscles straining, heat flaring along its throat.

Ikenga growled. A warning, his eyes locked onto the drake’s burning gaze, his intention clear, submit.

This was a hunt but it was not slaughter. Ikenga had no desire to spill blood today.

There was a natural order to his realm. Predators hunted prey. Strength rose and fell. Death came when it must. He would not disrupt that balance with his own hands not for sport, not for nostalgia.

Today was not about killing. It was about running beside his son. The drake snarled, smoke billowing from its nostrils, but its movements slowed. It felt the weight on its wing. It felt the precision of the bite at its neck strong enough to crush, restrained enough not to.

Maul pressed down slightly harder.

The earth beneath them groaned. For a moment, the forest held its breath.

When Ikenga’s jaws loosened and Maul lifted his paw, the creature did not flee immediately. It rose slowly, smoke curling from its nostrils as it glared at the two wolves.

A low growl rumbled from its chest, acknowledgment.

It spread its wings and took to the sky. Once it had gained enough height, it threw its head back and roared, a long, resounding cry that rolled across the forest.

It was announcing its loss, declaring it. The sound carried far beyond the shattered clearing.

Ikenga watched it go then he lifted his head and howled. Maul followed a heartbeat later.

The forest answered again but this time, it was different. The drake’s roar had not been one of humiliation.

It had been a challenge passed onward.

Across valleys and ridges, creatures stirred. They had heard the proclamation: two wolves had entered the hunting grounds and forced a sky tyrant to yield.

A second roar echoed from the western cliffs. Then another from the marshlands.

Heavy footsteps shook the earth somewhere to the north.

The air thickened with anticipation.

Ikenga’s ears twitched. Maul’s nose lifted, sorting through the sudden flood of scents, fur, scale, musk, iron, heat.

Ikenga glanced sideways at his son. Maul met his gaze, a silent understanding passed between them.

Then they ran as the forest erupted into motion.

From the left, a hulking, antlered beast burst through the undergrowth, hooves cracking stone. Ikenga pivoted sharply, his body twisting mid-stride as he lunged at its shoulder, forcing it off balance without tearing into flesh.

From the right, a scaled feline lunged from a tree, claws extended. Maul ducked beneath it and slammed his hindquarters upward, knocking it spinning into the brush.

They moved as black and white streaks cutting through green and gold.

More came.

A serpentine creature coiled around tree trunks, striking downward. Maul leapt vertically, pushing off the trunk itself to change direction mid-air. Ikenga intercepted from below, snapping near its jaw just enough to send it recoiling.

They do not linger much on one creature, it was Subdue, move.

Subdue and ove again. The forest floor became a shifting battlefield of momentum and instinct. Leaves spiraled upward from their passing. Branches cracked. Soil tore beneath powerful paws.

At one point, three beasts converged at once, a horned boar from the front, a winged predator from above, and a long-limbed crawler from the rear.

Ikenga barreled straight through the boar’s charge, deflecting its tusks with sheer force while Maul pivoted low, sweeping the crawler’s legs out from under it. The winged predator descended.

Too many. Ikenga barked sharply, that was the only signal.

They broke.

Both wolves burst forward in unison, accelerating beyond what seemed possible without divine power. They weaved through trees in tight spirals, leaping over fallen logs, slipping through narrow rock formations where larger pursuers could not follow.

Behind them came a chorus of frustrated roars. Hours passed like minutes or perhaps minutes like hours. Time did not matter here.

Eventually, they slowed. The sun dipped low, staining the sky in amber and crimson.

They climbed a ridge overlooking the vast forest below.

Side by side. For a moment, they said nothing. Then Ikenga huffed, nudging Maul’s shoulder.

"You’re slower."

Maul bared his teeth in what was unmistakably a grin "You’re louder." Ikenga barked a short laugh.

"You miss it," Ikenga said quietly.

Maul did not deny it.

"Yes."

"You miss being... this."

"Yes." Ikenga nodded slowly.

"You chose your path," he said. "Godhood is not meant to feel like childhood."

Maul’s ears flicked slightly.

"But that does not mean you must abandon who you were," Ikenga continued. "Power changes you. It should. But if you let it erase you... then what was the point of becoming stronger?"

The wind moved through their fur. Far below, creatures resumed their rhythms.

Maul finally spoke.

"I do not regret my ascension."

"I know."

"But sometimes..." he hesitated, searching for the word.

"I know," Ikenga repeated softly. They sat there as the last of the sun disappeared.

"Ikem informed me of your stance regarding the situation with your mother," Maul hummed, his voice carrying a note of practiced disinterest.

Ikenga let out a short, dry chuckle. "And do you hate your Aunt Keles, then?" he asked, his tone shifting into something uncharacteristically serious.

Taken aback, Maul shifted his gaze from Ikenga toward the dense canopy of the forest below. "In my eyes, things are the way they are because of her. I should hate her. I should resent her," he admitted, his voice dropping into a low, cold rasp. "But I cannot. I know that such hatred would only disappoint you and make things harder for you."

Ikenga reached out, his heavy paw settling on Maul’s head in a grounding gesture. "And do you also hate the child she carries? Your brother?"

Maul froze. The words died in his throat. By every law of pride and lineage, he should have loathed the unborn child as an interloper. Yet, the confirmation remained locked away.

Despite his icy exterior and calculated aloofness, family was the singular tether that bound him. He had always seen himself as the silent sentinel, the wall between his kin and the world. It was the very reason he was revered as the God of Cold Vengeance and Selective Protection.

He pursued strength for one reason: to be the shield they lacked. This new brother would be born into a world of power, yet he would be inherently vulnerable. Maul knew now of how things function for gods and Origin Gods who faced suffocating restrictions and ancient laws that tied their hands.

Eventually, the weight of the child’s protection would slide off the parents shoulders and fall squarely onto his and Ikem’s. That was the natural order. That was his duty. So why, then, had he hesitated to answer?

The child was innocent of the parents’ choices; Maul had already decided to remain detached from the drama between his mother and father, leaving them to settle their own debts.

Settling his resolve, he looked back at his father, his expression returning to its trademark icy discipline. "I bear no hatred for the brother to come."

There was silence after his answer "I have long since lost the right to tell you what is right or wrong, or even how you should feel," Ikenga said, a trace of relief softening his voice. "But it pleases me to hear those words, son. Your brother will have need of your protection."

Maul watched Ikenga closely, noting a shadow of concern in the older god’s eyes. Ikenga shook his head slowly. "We are still unsure of the specifics, but something is... different. It pertains to his divinity."

Maul gave a sharp nod, acknowledging the mystery of his brother’s divinity. Sensing the heavy atmosphere, Ikenga shifted his focus. "I notice that, unlike your brother, you seem unbothered by the matter of faith energy."

"My divinity doesn’t exactly invite a crowd," Maul replied, his tone flat and unconcerned. "A god of cold vengeance and selective protection... mortals rarely seek that out unless they are desperate. It was only after the incident in the courts with Xerosis that I gained any real notice at all."

Ikenga sighed, then began to explain as he had to Ikem, the growing necessity of believers. In the coming times, faith would not just be a luxury; it would be the fuel required to sustain their strength against the coming enemies.

Yet, Ikenga found himself at a crossroads. Maul was right; his divinity was difficult to approach. His current doctrine appealed only to a narrow sliver of the population: hardened warriors, or those with a singular, burning intent to shield their kin.

While the latter should have brought him a sea of worshippers, the world had been too peaceful for too long. Families felt safe; the hearth was rarely threatened. It was only in these recent, darkening days that mortals had begun to feel the cold prickle of fear, leading to the slight uptick in Maul’s followers. Even so, he remained a niche deity compared to the more "approachable" gods.

Maul needed a bridge, a subtle connection to the mortal soul that didn’t require a blood feud or a direct threat to a loved one. He needed to find the thread of his power that existed even when the world was at peace.