Chapter 883: 883
Ethan looked up, clutching the heavy volume to his chest. He knew immediately what it was, this was Roth’s holy doctrine, the foundation and blueprint for the entirely new path of religion that was now birthed in the world.
The moment his ascension reached its zenith, the earthly pulling sensation snapped, and Roth’s entire perception shifted. The mortal world vanished, replaced by the breathtaking majesty of his newly forged godly realm.
The first thing to capture his attention was the sky. It was a canvas of deep, bruised violet, stretching overhead. Along the horizon, a perpetual glow radiated the warmth of a setting sun, yet this brilliant light was perfectly and beautifully shielded by a cool, dark crown of celestial shadow. The air itself was thick and heavy, feeling warm, dense, and hyper-oxygenated with every breath of his divine form.
The landscape below was a marvel of pristine white stone. Elegant bridges and monumental marble aqueducts spanned across the vast valleys of the realm. However, instead of water, these massive channels carried a glowing, translucent, wine-red liquid known as "The Essence of Potential" It was a pure, entirely refined life-force, flowing smoothly and rhythmically through the realm like the grand circulatory system of a titan.
Surrounding these central structures were sweeping forests of surreal flora. Trees with smooth, bone-white bark shot up from the pale earth, their branches draped in weeping, translucent red leaves that caught the twilight glow of the horizon.
At the absolute epicenter of the realm stood Roth’s true seat of power, an immense, open-air cathedral of epic proportions that he called the "Helix Spire"
Mirroring the structural hierarchy of his mortal kingdom, the spire was flanked and protected by three massive, concentric rings.
The Outermost Ring, wide, bright, and vibrant, this ring constantly resonated with the frantic, warm, and chaotic pulse of mortal bloodlines.
The Middle Ring, a zone of fluid transition, perfectly balanced and ever-shifting, representing the evolution and adaptation of lineage.
The innermost ring is deep, silent, and hums with the source born from himself.
The book that Roth had carried with him for centuries slowly drifted from his hand. The moment it left his grasp, its pages burst outward, expanding exponentially until it filled the entire inner sanctuary of the Helix Spire. It transformed into a breathtaking physical labyrinth of towering, obsidian bookshelves that stretched upward, piercing into the bruised violet sky.
At the exact same moment, his divine realm welcomed its first inhabitants.
These residents were the very thralls that had once sowed chaos across the southern continent Empire. Roth had quietly harvested them, keeping them close within his shadow, and now they had ascended alongside him.
As they materialized within the pristine white stone structures, a transformation overcame them. The feral, bloodthirsty look faded from their faces, replaced by a sudden, sharp clarity. The light of true intelligence ignited in their eyes as their gazes were irresistibly drawn to the towering obsidian library before them. Instinctively, without a single word being uttered, they knew their purpose.
Roth watched them, a sense of quiet satisfaction settling over him. He moved toward the pristine steps of the grand cathedral, intending to finally sit and contemplate his new domain.
But just as he was about to take his seat, his brow suddenly raised.
The air grew heavy. The translucent, wine-red liquid in the aqueducts rippled violently as five vast, unfathomable presences abruptly manifested within the borders of his realm.
Among the five manifestations, he immediately saw his mother, her vieled face illuminated by a proud, radiant smile. But before she or the other Origin Gods could even offer their congratulations, they all suddenly froze in unison.
Roth felt it too. A sudden tremor rippled through the very fabric of their shared divinity. They glanced at one another, their eyes wide with mutual realization, a new brilliant thread had just been woven into their divine lineage. A birth had occurred. A new demigod had entered the pantheon.
Driven by the instinctive pull of blood, Roth moved. With absolutely no physical exertion, his consciousness bypassed the boundaries of space, and he was immediately welcomed into Ikem’s realm.
The moment he stepped into the domain, the sheer density of the air hit him. Ikem’s realm felt incredibly saturated, vibrating with an overwhelming pressure simply from the sheer concentration of divine beings gathered in one place.
And then, breaking the silence of the realm, the child’s first cry echoed through the air.
Roth watched as Mahu, her expression incredibly tender, gently raised the newborn into the air, instantly draping the infant in an ethereal, protective veil of divine light. Beside them, Ursula lay resting, a deeply tired yet brilliant, triumphant smile gracing her features. Nearby stood Ikem, his usually unshakeable frame rigid, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles were bulgiing with veins from how utterly nervous he had been.
Looking around the room, Roth saw his own mother now holding his little brother, Ikelos, while his sister stood close by, her own belly bulging with new life, the protective arms of Crepuscular wrapped securely around her waist.
The entire pantheon family’s focus was locked with absolute fascination on the crying newborn. This was a monumental milestone for their bloodline, the very first second-generation demigod of their lineage.
Ikenga and the other Origin Gods curious about the child leaned in closer, their divine senses piercing through the newborn’s veil.
The child was unquestionably a demigod, carrying the golden spark of divinity in her soul. Yet, compared to the first-generation demigods the Origin Gods had sired themselves, this newborn was different. She lacked that raw, overwhelming proximity to the Origin source.
They all sensed that the child had inherited no innate gift. When Ikem was born, the very greenery of the world had bowed to his innate wood manipulation. When Ursula drew her first breath, red hot flames had danced at her fingertips. But this child’s hands were completely empty of such natural authority.
Almost in unison, the eyes of the origin gods subtly drifted toward Xerosis. Her bulging belly held the next child of the lineage, but her case should be entirely different. Because Crepuscular was an independent Origin source himself, the child she carried would possess a bloodline purity matching a true first-generation demigod.
Ikem and Ursula, tracking the gazes of the Origin gods, could clearly sense the gap in their daughter’s power. Yet, neither the young father nor the mother showed a single hint of disappointment or distress. Instead, the revelation only seemed to solidify something fierce within them.
Looking down at their quiet, giftless daughter, they held her tighter. They knew right then that she wouldn’t have the effortless, soaring path to power that they had enjoyed. Every ounce of strength she would ever possess would have to be forged, fought for, and earned in the crucible of the world and they would burn the heavens down before they let anyone look down on her for it.
Roth’s Presence and entrance was immediately sensed by everyone in the room. Even amidst the heavy concentration of divine signatures, that crisp, freshly forged presence of the God of the Crimson Spark was impossible to miss. Despite the silent realization about the child’s missing gifts, the atmosphere remained profoundly joyous. Today was a double blessing for the pantheon, a brother had ascended to his throne, and a new life had been welcomed into the family.
Xerosis turned her head toward her brother, as she offered a warm smile. "Congratulations to you, brother," she said, her voice carrying the genuine pride of a sibling. Then, her gaze drifted down to the tiny infant cradled in Ursula’s arms, and a look of gentle apology crossed her face. "I hope you understand why I wasn’t present for your grand spectacle."
Roth’s attention, however, was already entirely locked onto the newborn girl. The intricate webs of her newly woven bloodline were laying themselves bare to his domain over lineage. Hearing his sister’s words, he casually waved a pale hand.
"No need to worry yourself, sister. My ascension was merely an inevitability, something that should have long happened," Roth replied smoothly, his cold voice carrying a rare undertone of familial warmth.
With slow, deliberate steps, he walked past the towering figures of the Origin gods, stepping directly toward the bed where Ursula rested. He reached out a long, pale hand toward the child.
Ursula glanced up, tracking his movement. Truthfully, this enigmatic cousin of hers was someone she had rarely interacted with over the centuries, he had always been the reclusive scholar hidden away in his dark castle.
Yet, at this very moment, she felt no apprehension. As the newly crowned God of the Crimson Spark leaned over her daughter, something about Roth’s newly crystallized divine aura made Ursula’s own divinity, of the Ascendant Hearth and Everflame Bonds throb in a strange, expectant harmony. Without a single shred of hesitation, she gently lifted her daughter and handed the child over to Roth.
Flowua, Tide, and Maul immediately closed in, gathering around him in a tight circle as they all peered down at the newest member of their divine family. Like Roth had noted, his ascension wasn’t a shock to them. He had possessed the capability to ascend right alongside them centuries ago, but due to the circumstances of his mortal kingdom and his obsessive studies, he had chosen to stay behind
