Chapter 461: 461

But Maul himself made it clear: his divinity was not so grand.

Unlike gods who extended their protection over entire civilizations, Maul’s unyielding protection was deeply personal and fiercely selective. He was not a benevolent guardian of the weak, nor a patron of those who simply sought safety. Instead, his protection was reserved for a chosen few—those who had earned his loyalty, proven their worth, or belonged to his self-defined “inner circle.”

Maul’s vengeance was as precise as his protection. He did not seek justice for all, nor did he avenge wrongdoing indiscriminately. Instead, his retribution was personal, calculated, and unforgiving—a punishment inflicted only upon those who dared to harm what he claimed as his.

Tide’s divinity was not bound to vaults of gold or static riches. Wealth, in his domain, was not something hoarded—it was something that moved, flowed, and returned. His treasury was everflowing, an endless current of prosperity that mirrored the tides of the ocean—sometimes receding, but always destined to rise again.

Tide understood that true wealth was not in mere possession but in motion, exchange, and renewal. More than any other god, Tide understood the weight of time. Wealth and ruin were both fleeting, and the greatest fortunes came to those who could read the shifting currents of fate.

Tide made it known he was not just a god of riches—he was a god of movement, foresight, and the eternal cycle of gain and loss.

To rulers and merchants, he was a guide to prosperity.

To scholars and visionaries, he was a god of foresight and wisdom.

To fools and hoarders, he was a cruel tide that washed away all they clung to.

For wealth would always flow—but only those who understood its tides would prosper with it.

Merchants, bankers, economists, and those that deal with trade, and wealth.

When it comes to Flowua, the Goddess of Unimpeded Progress and Adaptive Force.

Flowua embodied the unstoppable momentum of progress—a force that neither tradition nor resistance could hinder. She was not simply a god of change, but of purposeful evolution, where stagnation was a greater sin than failure itself.

True power was not in brute force, but in the ability to change, adjust, and thrive under any condition. Flowua’s divinity was one of fluid resilience, an understanding that rigidity leads to downfall, while adaptability ensures survival.

Flowua did not grant patience, comfort, or certainty. She offered only the drive to push forward, to break through stagnation, and to become something greater than before.

As for Xerosis who took the divinity of Justice and Veiled arbiter. Xerosis did not wield justice as a sword, nor did she define it with absolute proclamations. She made it known to her priest that justice was not a rigid concept but a fluid force, shifting with time, perspective, and circumstance.

She rejected the notion of unyielding law, believing that no single truth existed in isolation. Justice was not found in punishment alone, nor in mercy alone, but in the act of seeing—truly seeing—before judgment is passed.

She taught her followers not to pass judgment based on emotion, bias, or surface-level truths. Instead, she demanded patience, the gathering of knowledge, and the wisdom to see beyond what was immediately apparent.

Xerosis’s most sacred teaching was simple: “See before you judge.”

She demanded that her followers learn to observe with all their senses, not just their eyes.

“Look before you act” – Do not pass judgment until you have seen every side of the story.

“See through the eyes of both the accused and the victim” – Justice requires empathy, but empathy without clarity is blindness.

“Even the guilty have a story” – Before punishment is given, understand why the crime was committed. Not all actions stem from evil—some stem from desperation, manipulation, or ignorance.

“Justice is never perfect, but it must be true” – A judgment should bring balance, not merely serve revenge.

Xerosis made sure it was known that she was not a god of personal morality. She did not place herself above mortals as the ultimate authority, but rather as a guide who concealed herself behind the veil of impartiality.

In the years following the ascension of the gods, the understanding of their doctrines became clearer. Each god’s essence and ideals gradually took form in the hearts and minds of their followers. Five years after their ascension, their faiths were fully articulated, and in the following five years, these beliefs were systematically introduced and nurtured among the godlings. As a result, new professions emerged, each dedicated to upholding the values and principles of the divine.

For ikem it was biologists, ecologists, Druids and Herbalists while for Ursula it was community leaders, healers, caregivers, and anyone who values strong relationships.

For Maul it was Warriors, guards, Martial Philosophers and weirdly most fatehr figures found themselves drawn to his faith as his doctrine revered protectors and those who guided the next generation with wisdom and firm but fair discipline.

For tide it was, Merchants, bankers, economists, and those that deal with trade, and wealth. His followers sought to master the movement of wealth, ensuring its fair and strategic distribution.

For flouwa it was, Inventors, scientists, explorers, revolutionaries, and anyone who embraces change and innovation.

For xerosis, It was Judges, Enforcers, Detectives and Investigators.

Once the doctrines were fully understood, the next five years saw a concentrated effort to spread these faiths among the godlings. Temples, academies, and guilds were established, each dedicated to the teachings of a specific god. The integration of these beliefs into daily life shaped a new era where divine influence was not only worshiped but lived.

Sacred Institutions were founded, blending faith and profession. For instance, academies dedicated to Ikem trained future ecologists in both science and spiritual connection to nature. Courts dedicated to Xerosis were revered for their unyielding pursuit of justice.

Cultural Shifts took place, where societal roles became infused with divine purpose. A healer was no longer just a doctor but an extension of Ursula’s mercy. A merchant was not merely a trader but an agent of Tide’s prosperity.

After the retreat of the godlings, it did not take long for whispers to spread among human kingdoms about the rise of new gods. The godlings, already a formidable race, had now gained deities of their own.

For the greater human kingdoms—those who had long been aware of the godlings’ ascension—this revelation did not come as a surprise. Yet, knowing of it beforehand did not diminish the weight of its implications. The power of the godlings continued to rise, while humanity, by comparison, seemed to stagnate. The balance of power, already fragile, tilted ever further in the godlings’ favor, breeding unease among human rulers.

However, with the godlings largely absent, their divine figures focused on cultivating their new doctrines, human leaders found themselves emboldened. At first, they moved cautiously, sending spies and observers to study the reactions of the godlings in their distant territories. Each decision, each movement was calculated, awaiting the slightest sign of retaliation. But when no retribution came—when the godlings remained passive to human affairs—the ruling families of the human kingdoms began to relax, though never fully.

Yet, history has a way of repeating itself. Just as they had done with the Origin Gods before being chastised by the godlings, humans took it upon themselves to establish places of worship for these new ascended gods.

Out of both respect and a desperate desire to gain divine favor, humans built shrines, temples, and places of worship dedicated to each of the newly ascended gods. Some did so out of genuine reverence, while others sought power, believing that if they could appeal to these new gods, they might receive divine blessings or protection from the ever-strengthening godling race.

But their ignorance became a source of irritation for the ascended gods.

The newly ascended gods had been doing their best to purify their divinity, ensuring that faith and belief in them were aligned with their true purpose. Unlike the Origin Gods, who were vast, primordial forces intertwined with existence itself, these new gods were still shaping their domains, defining the meaning of their divinity. Mortal worship, vast and uncontrolled, introduced unpredictable elements into their nature.

Some gods, such as Xerosis, Ursula, and Tide, were largely unaffected. Their domains—law, community, trade—were concepts humans already understood. Human worship of them, while still flawed, did not greatly distort their intended divine roles.

But for Ikem, Maul, and Flouwa, the situation was far more complicated. Ikem found himself worshiped in ways that echoed his parent deity rather than his own principles. Many humans revered him as merely a god of bountiful harvests and prosperity, reducing his divine nature to a patron of agriculture. His teachings on the interconnectedness of all life and the necessity of equilibrium were ignored in favor of prayers for abundant crops and endless fertility of the land.

Maul was distorted into something far from his true essence. Humans, shaped by their own past traditions, associated him with war and conquest, erecting shrines where warriors prayed for victory and dominion over their enemies. His teachings on self-mastery, restraint, and the burden of strength were overshadowed by the age-old human belief that power existed to be used against others. In their minds, Maul became a war god—an image he never wished to embody.

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