Chapter 370: 370

Mahu added, her tone firm, “One thing is certain: they won’t make the same mistake twice. Jaus’s counterpart crossed a line, which allowed our interference. Next time, they’ll avoid that.”

As her form and Jaus’s continued to fade, Mahu’s voice lingered in the air. “Ember is close to finishing the seals.”

Meanwhile, in a world ruled by goblins, now plunged into total war, a battlefield roared with the clash of demons and ratmen. Amid the chaos, a massive carriage, invisible to the naked eye and undeterred by the bloodshed, moved unbothered through the carnage.

At the front of the carriage, a goblin dressed like a butler sat with an air of indifference. Occasionally, his hand reached out to grasp the soul of a ratman, tearing it to pieces. Some fragments he consumed, while the rest he shared with his companion.

The interior of the carriage, however, was a sight unsuitable for children—or most eyes, for that matter. What had previously been a modest space with seats and a table was now transformed. A large, flower-adorned bed dominated the space, where Ikenga and Keles lay together, entirely unclothed and deeply entangled.

The two gods had seemingly forgotten their earlier resolve to avoid disrespecting Crepuscular—or, in Ikenga’s case, Mahu’s potential reaction to their situation.

The reason for their current state? Boredom.

The journey to reunite with Phantom was a long one, and neither Ikenga nor Keles had initially minded. For the first two months, they busied themselves observing the monotonous and mildly interesting lives of the ratmen marked by Ikenga. But as the invasion escalated into full-blown war, they abandoned their vigil, turning their focus to the battles.

Even the war, however, eventually lost its allure. With nothing left to distract them, Ikenga found it increasingly stressful to share such close quarters with Keles, especially after they had both made their feelings for each other clear.

There were stolen glances, followed by shy smiles and quick lookaways. Her pale skin seemed to catch his eye at the worst—or best—moments, slipping into view beneath her robe.

One day, Ikenga gave in. He made his move, only to discover that Keles had been feeling the same. What followed, however, nearly made him question his own divine nature as he thought that was something that only happened to mortals.

He performed poorly at first—a fact that might have embarrassed him if Keles hadn’t stepped in to guide him. Ikenga had approached her with the same approach he used with Mahu, who preferred a rougher, more aggressive style.

But Keles was the complete opposite. Aggression didn’t move her. She responded to gentleness, a slower pace, steady eye contact, and an abundance of kisses. With her guidance, Ikenga learned how to please her, adapting his usual approach to something softer and more intimate.

Ikenga remembered her exact word being “You’re not a beast, Ikenga. If you’re going to touch me, do it like you’re sculpting something beautiful, not breaking it.”

Her words were both a chastisement and an invitation, a call for him to step into a realm of intimacy he had never truly explored before. For gods like Ikenga and Keles, who embody primal aspects of existence, the act of intercourse transcended the purely physical. It was a merging of their divine essences, their powers intertwining in a dance that was as much about connection as it was about pleasure.

For Ikenga, the god of nature and cures, his essence was one of life, growth, and renewal. His energy flowed like rivers through fertile lands, carrying with it the promise of vitality and healing. His touch, when guided by gentleness, became an extension of this power, nurturing rather than conquering. When Keles taught him to slow down, to savor every moment, she was asking him to channel this divine energy into something that resonated with her own nature.

Keles, the goddess of darkness and death, was an entity of quiet inevitability and solemn beauty. Her essence did not seek to destroy for destruction’s sake but to end things with grace and finality, making way for new beginnings. For her, the act was not about domination or yielding but about balance. Her pale skin, cool and smooth like marble, seemed to absorb Ikenga’s warmth, creating a harmony that neither had anticipated.

When their bodies moved together, it was not a clash of opposites but a melding of complementary forces. Ikenga’s warmth and vitality seeped into her, and in return, her stillness and calm tempered his wildness. The flowers that adorned the bed bloomed and wilted in cycles, reflecting the ebb and flow of their divine energy.

As they continued, Ikenga began to realize that his usual approach, fueled by vigor and dominance, was ill-suited for Keles. Her needs called for him to explore a different side of himself—one that was patient, attentive, and deeply present. Each kiss, slow and deliberate, became a prayer of devotion. Each caress was an acknowledgment of her divinity, her individuality.

He learned to read the subtle cues in her body—the way her breath hitched when his hand lingered on the curve of her hip, the way her eyes softened when he whispered her name. The steady eye contact she demanded at first unnerved him, but he soon found it grounding, an unspoken vow of honesty and vulnerability between them.

Keles, for her part, found a quiet satisfaction in guiding Ikenga. Despite his initial fumbling, she appreciated his willingness to learn and adapt. There was a softness in her laughter when he got something wrong, and a spark of pride when he finally understood what she needed. She showed him that intimacy was not a battlefield to conquer but a sacred space to share.

Her cool touch against his heated skin created a tantalizing contrast, and the way she looked at him—with both mischief and something deeper—made him feel seen in a way he had not been before.

For Ikenga, being with Mahu, the goddess of the moon and motherhood, was entirely different. Mahu embodied nurturing warmth, boundless care, and a love that felt as vast and eternal as the night sky. Their intimacy reflected these qualities, a dynamic of raw passion tempered by deep emotional connection.

Mahu’s approach to intimacy was neither timid nor overly restrained—it was a balance of fierce passion and tender devotion. She could match Ikenga’s fiery energy, meeting his roughness with her own strength, but she did so with an undercurrent of care. Every movement, every gasp, every embrace from Mahu carried an unspoken promise: “You are safe here, you are loved.”

Her moonlit skin seemed to glow with a silvery light, making her appear ethereal in their shared moments. The curves of her body felt like the gentle slopes of rolling hills, welcoming and grounding, while her steady gaze reminded him of the unchanging phases of the moon—a constant in his life.

Mahu’s connection to Ikenga was deeply emotional, tied to her role as the goddess of motherhood. She had a way of making Ikenga feel whole, seen, and cherished, as though their union was not just a physical act but a reaffirmation of their shared purpose as gods who shaped life and cared for creation.

The scence changed as the carriage remained perched on the hill, the air was heavy with the sounds of war—clanging metal, guttural roars, and the sharp crackle of arcane explosions. Despite the chaos below, Ikenga appeared strangely calm, his head nestled in Keles’s lap as she absentmindedly ran her fingers through his hair. Her dark, cool aura enveloped them, a stark contrast to the blazing inferno of the battlefield below.

Vaegur adjusted his chef’s hat with a theatrical flair as he stirred a cauldron over a portable flame, the tantalizing scent of spices wafting through the air. Lavderh, standing a few paces away, held down a squirming ratman with one hand .His expression was one of quiet satisfaction as he bit into it.

Ikenga’s one eye scanned the battlefield below, drawn to the ebb and flow of the battle. The ratmen were a surprising force. Even as the demons tore through their ranks with brutal efficiency, more ratmen poured forth from the glowing portals erected by the goblin mages. Each wave was equipped with crude but effective technology, and their sheer numbers made them a formidable opponent.

“It’s fascinating,” Ikenga murmured, his voice low but contemplative. “How they keep coming, no matter how many fall. Almost like an unending tide.”

“They’re like cockroaches,” Keles replied, her tone flat, though her fingers never paused in their gentle motion through his hair. “Persistent. Hard to kill entirely.”

Ikenga chuckled softly. “Persistent, yes. But also… adaptable. Their capacity to expand, even in such dire circumstances, makes me wonder if this is what the mages were hoping for. Were they experimenting on this world to replicate the ratmen’s resilience? Their ability to endlessly multiply?”

He paused, the thought lingering, but then shook his head. “No… that doesn’t seem to be the case. The seal placed on the ratmen’s potential suggests they had something else in mind”.

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