Chapter 329: 329

Phanthom savored the experience, but even as the joy of the moment faded, a pang of regret entered his thoughts. Perhaps he had ended the general’s journey too soon. Had he allowed the general more time to bask in the false adoration of the crowd, to believe in his greatness until the very last moment, the reward might have been even sweeter.

“I should have let him indulge in his spotlight until his death,” Phanthom mused to himself. “His ambition would have been so much more… appetizing.”

He glanced toward the portal leading to the Abyss, where Malzor, the fourth-stage gargoyle demon, commanded the demons. Malzor had ambition of his own—raw and unchecked—and Phanthom couldn’t help but wonder what might happen if he played a role in helping Malzor fulfill that ambition. How much more satisfying would the reward be? How much more radiant would the golden light become?

For now, the battlefield had quieted. The ogres had fallen back, protected by the Tower Master’s shield, and the demons had retreated for the time being. But Phanthom wasn’t concerned with the immediate battle. His gaze was now set on the grander game—the ambitions yet unfulfilled, the stories yet to be told.

Meanwhile, Far away from the battlefield, Ikenga and Keles watched the scene unfold with silent interest. Ikenga wore a bright smile, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. Phanthom was making remarkable progress, far more than Ikenga had anticipated. It was clear to him now that the use of power—true power—depended not on the strength of a curse but on how the individual wielded it. And Phanthom was beginning to understand this.

Ikenga knew that Phanthom didn’t yet comprehend the full significance of the golden essence he had just absorbed. The cursed being likely saw it as little more than a curious energy, a fleeting reward for his involvement in the fallen ogre general’s final moments. But Ikenga understood its deeper value. He considered stepping in, educating Phanthom on what he had just gained, on how this golden essence differentiated him from other cursed beings. Yet he held back, deciding against it. It would be more intriguing to see what Phanthom could achieve through discovery and instinct alone.

The Golden Essence, as Ikenga knew, was far more than a mere reward—it was a transformative force. It represented the purity of a fulfilled desire, an ambition brought to its natural, positive conclusion. For most cursed beings, the feeding process was primal and brutish. They devoured negative emotions—ambition steeped in greed, despair soaked in hopelessness—without truly understanding the cost. They consumed without thought, like beasts, and in doing so, they became trapped in the cycle of their own darkness. Their growth was chaotic, their power stained by the very emotions they absorbed.

But Phanthom and his siblings were different. Phanthom’s golden essence wasn’t born from basic ambition tainted by frustration or unfulfilled desire. No, it was something more refined, more complete. It was still ambition, yes, but ambition that had been guided, nurtured, and ultimately fulfilled in a positive, purposeful way. Ikenga mused on the analogy: it was like comparing an uncooked meal to a finely prepared dish. The raw ingredients of ambition were there, but it was through Phanthom’s actions—helping the Ogre General realize his goal, even in death—that the ambition had been “cooked,” transformed into something nourishing, something far more potent than the raw hunger of negative emotions.

This distinction was crucial. The golden essence didn’t just feed Phanthom’s power; it also refined him, elevating him beyond the mindless consumption of base emotions. It wasn’t just about strength—it was about balance, about understanding the emotions he touched and shaping them into something greater. In this way, Phanthom was not only absorbing ambition but also embodying a more profound connection to the very emotions that fueled his curse.

Ikenga’s observation continued as he watched Phanthom survey the battlefield, perhaps unaware of the deeper shift happening within him. Most cursed creatures never realized the danger of constantly feeding on unchecked emotions. The more they consumed despair, rage, or greed in its raw form, the more those same emotions twisted and corroded their essence. It was a vicious cycle that ultimately led many cursed beings to spiral into madness, trapped by the very forces they sought to harness.

But the golden essence represented an escape from that fate—a way to channel emotions without becoming enslaved by them. It was as if Phanthom had been given the ability to cook with fire, rather than let the fire consume him. It was a higher form of sustenance, one that allowed for growth without the destructive side effects that plagued lesser cursed beings.

Ikenga’s smile widened as he reflected on Phanthom’s unwitting progress. There was a reason why most cursed beings saw their state of being as miserable—they were too preoccupied with feeding on negativity, unable to see the value in guiding emotions toward resolution and fulfillment. But here was Phanthom, unknowingly stepping into the realm of higher understanding.

Keles, who had been silently watching alongside Ikenga, finally spoke, her voice calm and thoughtful. “He doesn’t realize it, does he?”

Ikenga chuckled softly. “No, not yet. But that’s the beauty of it. Let him discover it on his own. The golden essence will teach him more than any lesson I could give.”

Keles nodded. “It’s ironic. Cursed beings are supposed to be trapped in their emotions, yet here he is… breaking free without even knowing.”

Ikenga’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “Yes, the irony is delightful, isn’t it? Power is a tool, but how it’s used… that’s what truly matters.”

Meanwhile, back on the main world, it had been months since the gods informed the demigods about the looming crisis on the other world. Acting swiftly, the demigods gathered the rare materials required for their plan and sent them to Ember, the finest blacksmith and forger among the apeling clans.

For months, the sound of hammer meeting metal rang day and night across the territory of the Cured Apeling clan, where Ember worked tirelessly in his forge. The rhythmic clang of the hammer was often followed by Ember’s deep, booming laughter. This project—the one bestowed by the gods themselves—was the pinnacle of his career. It was rare for mortals to be trusted with divine tasks, and Ember took great pride in knowing that he was crafting something of immense importance.

What made the experience even more exhilarating was the flame he now worked with. The sun god Crepuscular had gifted Ember a sacred flame from his divine realm, one that burned hotter and purer than any Ember had ever encountered. With this flame, the forge became more than just a place of creation—it became a sacred space, a conduit between the mortal world and the divine.

So deeply was Ember engrossed in his craft that he lost track of time. He forgot that the annual apeling competition was approaching—an event that united all the apeling clans, both cursed and normal, to test their progress and showcase their skills. It was a time of great pride for his people, and as one of the leader of the Cursed Apeling clan, Ember’s absence would be notable. But Ikem, a wise elder, understood the significance of Ember’s work and didn’t pressure him to participate this year.

While Ember worked tirelessly on the flaming mountain, the apeling capital was alive with excitement. The streets were filled with the buzz of anticipation, and every apeling, from the youngest to the oldest, had an extra bounce in their step. Preparations had taken a full week, and now the day of the competition had arrived. This year’s event was promised to be unlike any other—there was a mystery, a grand surprise that had been hinted at by the king himself.

The massive colosseum, where the competition would be held, was packed with apelings from every corner of their lands. Yet, despite the enormous crowd, many seats remained mysteriously unoccupied, leaving the attendees to wonder what was to come. The air hummed with the energy of anticipation.

Suddenly, fireworks exploded in the sky, bathing the colosseum in bright, colorful light. All eyes were drawn to the center of the arena as a lone figure appeared. An apeling, dressed flamboyantly in a striking pink suit, stood at the heart of the colosseum, a broad smile on his face. In his hand, he held a device that resembled a microphone, something rarely seen among the apelings.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” The apeling’s voice boomed through the arena, amplified by the strange device in his hand. Instantly, the crowd fell silent, every apeling’s attention fixed on him.

He paused for a moment, relishing the tension in the air. “Today’s event is unlike anything you’ve ever witnessed before. Our king has promised you something grand, something you will remember for generations. And believe me, you will not be disappointed.”

The crowd murmured in excitement, but the flamboyant apeling announcer raised his hand once more, signaling for silence. With a theatrical flourish, he pointed to the grand, empty throne at the highest point in the colosseum.

“Let us first welcome our king, our father, the lord of the Bleeding Trees, and the first son of our great god Ikenga—Ikem!!”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep