Chapter 347: 347

Zephyr nodded, understanding that the priest’s motives might have been symbolic. “If that’s the case, then he was likely trying to elevate his standing with this figure—to secure a place in their inner circle through this act.”

Determination sparked in Wulv’s eyes. “Our next step should be to identify this figure and any influence they may have on Björn’s followers. If there are others acting independently, we could be dealing with a rogue faction within Björn’s people—one with its own agenda.”

Zephyr stood, his gaze resolute. “We won’t let this go unchallenged. I’ll have Terra’s guards increase their patrols and remain on high alert. Meanwhile, Wulv, if your people can track down any trace of this faction within Björn’s lands, we may be able to stay one step ahead of whatever they’re plotting.”

Wulv rose as well, nodding. “I’ll inform my people at once.”

Meanwhile, at the border of the Apeling Kingdom, two figures perched silently atop a towering tree. Ursula, wings faintly glowing in the dim light, sat beside Ikem, who was watching Nwadiebube and his team disappear into the distance.

“Aren’t you going to stop him? He did steal from you,” Ursula said, biting into an apple similar to those in Ikem’s garden.

Ikem’s eyes stayed fixed on Nwadiebube’s retreating form. “Even if I wanted to, I can’t interfere without risking my ascension. Besides, I’ve grown bored of humans and their endless treachery.”

Ursula tilted her head, curiosity gleaming in her eyes. “Still, letting him walk away unpunished—doesn’t that threaten your standing? His actions were a direct challenge.”

Ikem shrugged, his gaze never wavering. “All he managed to take was a branch. The fruits themselves are beyond his reach. Mortals constantly grasp for power they don’t understand.”

Her eyebrow arched, amusement flickering in her gaze. “But this theft feels too precise to be mere ambition. Surely, you suspect he’s not acting alone?”

A hardened glint appeared in Ikem’s eyes as he considered her words. “If he is part of something larger, he’ll be consumed by it. These desperate moves often conceal fear, not strength.”

Ikem turned to Ursula with a slight smirk. “But you, Lady Ursula, seem unusually captivated by mortals and their little schemes. I thought your aspirations lay far beyond these trivial games.”

Ursula’s lips curved into a half-smile. “Power reveals itself in the most unexpected places. Besides, my fascination with mortals is hardly new—it’s simply worn out as time passes. As my ascension approaches, I find myself recalling why they used to intrigue me.”

Ikem studied Ursula’s expression for a moment, a knowing smile flickering across his face. “Perhaps you’re right, Lady Ursula. Mortals can be amusing, particularly when they believe themselves capable of outmaneuvering us.”

He shifted his gaze back to where Nwadiebube had vanished into the forest, a dark satisfaction glinting in his eyes. “But they are still only pawns, easily manipulated. If he survives whatever awaits him, I may yet find a use for him.”

Ursula nodded, contemplating Ikem’s words. “Sometimes, even the most inconsequential pieces have a way of altering the game. But you don’t seem inclined to gamble on that possibility.”

“True,” Ikem replied, his tone casual but laced with an edge of confidence. “I don’t need to gamble. With the fruits of my garden, I hold all the pieces I require. But as for the branch…” His voice trailed off as he glanced at Ursula. “Why let a single branch reach mortal hands if it might serve a purpose? A trial, perhaps, for the bold?”

Ursula’s smile widened. “A trial or a trap, perhaps. But how many mortals would risk their lives to claim something that doesn’t benefit them directly?” Her gaze turned distant as she weighed the possibilities. “There is always the chance this branch could be a lure, drawing others in like flies to honey. And if more mortals attempt the feat, we might discover those who have had their eyes on the godlings”

Ursula nodded, her eyes taking on a golden glow as she turned to the side, where a dark, incorporeal figure was eerily watching them. “More of these beings are appearing in our world,” she murmured.

Ikem’s expression grew serious as he stared at the figure. His past encounters with such entities made him hesitate to engage them again. Knowing that the counterparts of their own world’s guardians were now watching made it all the more unsettling—they might be tempting them to engage, only to drag them into the Upside-Down world.

“Ember is almost done setting up the wards. Once we place them and ascend, we can at least take comfort that the world will remain safe for our children,” Ikem said to Ursula, who smiled in response.

But then Ikem’s next question wiped the smile from her face. “What about the human Edward? The king your people once supported?”

Ursula’s frown deepened as she unfurled her wings, slowly lifting herself into the sky. “I’ve had my people stay away from him. Something must have happened to him during the war against Silas.”

Ikem chuckled as he stood and began heading back. “You know, come to think of it, maybe we had an easier time in the mortal world compared to our children. It feels like they’re dealing with so much more.”

Their voices gradually faded as they returned to the camp. Meanwhile, the eerie figure continued to watch them retreat. Then, as though slipping through an impossibly tight space, it vanished, reappearing in the Upside-Down, where the world remained unchanging, monochrome in its bleakness.

In this shadowed realm, the figure wandered until it spotted something rare in that lifeless world—a patch of color. It was a forest, shrouded in a deep grey mist. Occasionally, ghostly shapes, almost like animals, flickered through the haze. Sensing the aura radiating from the figure, the spectral creatures edged away, recognizing it as a servant of the forest’s owner. Here, the forest was a twisted mockery of the one in the mortal world, a perverse abomination.

The ground was soft and spongy, layered with damp, rotting vegetation that released a faint, acrid odor. These layers seemed to pulse, as though alive, giving an eerie impression of sentience. Dark, inky pools dotted the forest floor, their surfaces reflecting distorted images of the grotesque surroundings.

In this cursed forest, nature itself felt predatory. Thorned vines twisted around every tree, some reaching outward as if to ensnare intruders, their thorns glistening with a dark, sticky substance. The trees bore curling, dark leaves that occasionally shuddered without a breeze. Hollow trunks and branches seemed to watch with gaping knots, resembling hungry mouths or hollow eyes. Faint whispers echoed through the air, though no source could be seen, as if the trees and the ground shared a bitter, malevolent consciousness.

At the heart of this forest stood a massive tree-like structure, far more grotesque than the others. Its bark, appearing fossilized yet pulsing with dark energy, was laced with spiderwebbed cracks that glowed with a dull crimson light. This tree’s twisted, ancient limbs bore blackened leaves and ghostly fruit oozing thick, dark liquid. The roots, resembling enormous contorted limbs, spread out across the forest, drawing sustenance from the corruption beneath.

Underneath the tree lay the god’s sanctum, accessible by descending through a network of roots that formed an archway into a shadowed cavern. This lair was faintly lit by bioluminescent plants and eerie mineral glimmers. At its center sat a throne, carved from ancient wood and stone, entangled with dark, thorny vines that wrapped around it like serpents. Dark, coiled roots extended from the throne into the cavern floor, connecting the god directly to the tainted lifeforce of his domain.

Seated on this throne was a figure resembling Ikenga, though twisted and corrupted. Where Ikenga might have looked like a healthy, thriving plant, this counterpart resembled something sickly and decaying.

The horns atop his head, once vibrant and adorned with leaves, were now blackened and twisted, like scorched wood. Brittle, black leaves hung loosely from the horns, some disintegrating into wisps of dark smoke. Each horn was etched with faint, glowing cracks, pulsing with a deep crimson light, as though the wood had been burned from within. Occasionally, tendrils of dark mist seeped from these cracks, swirling ominously around his head.

His once robust, stone-like arms now appeared fractured and decayed, as if ancient stone had been worn down by millennia of curses. Faint, pulsing veins of dark energy snaked through the cracks, radiating a dull, sickly glow that highlighted his gnarled, clawed hands. His fingers, elongated and claw-like, were covered in dark, bark-like armor that split open around the knuckles, revealing hints of his own cursed energy leaking through.

The eerie figure entered the cavern and kneeled before his counterpart, who had taken the name “Omenka.” Omenka regarded the figure with an unreadable expression as roots wrapped around it, breaking it down to food and nutrients that were transported along the roots connected to him.

Closing his eyes, Omenka absorbed everything the figure had seen in the mortal world. “Ah, my son, why do you refuse your father’s well-thought invitation?” he murmured, referring to Ikem as his “son.”

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