CHAPTER 696: 696

But then they saw the sigil.

The unmistakable emblem of the Goddess of Justice.

And beneath it, the seal of the veiled arbiter, Xerosis.

The moment the symbols came into view, they all fell silent. These were not marks any being dared to forge. Not unless they wished to invoke the wrath of the divine law itself.

This petition was legitimate.

This case was real.

And it was no longer something they could ignore.

The humans had not only gathered their wounded and their witnesses, they had secured divine oversight. Lawyers trained in Xerosis jurisprudence were already waiting on their side. The victims had been vetted. Their accounts are documented. Everything that could be prepared was prepared.

Zephyr and the other godling leaders were instructed to assemble their own legal representatives and bring forth those responsible for the accusations. But fortune or circumstance tilted slightly in their favor. Most of the godlings who could be named in the case were currently in the southern continent, trapped by the same strange interference that had affected all communication and travel.

They were "Stuck" and therefore unable to appear in court.

Thus, the trial was postponed.

For now.

This temporary reprieve, however, did not ease the godling kings tension. If anything, it made them more anxious. Until the trial resumed, every action of their people would be watched closely by mortals, by divine intermediaries, and by the goddess whose seal held the weight of the law itself.

Any reckless act could be twisted into further evidence. Any misstep would strengthen the human court’s position. Even the smallest display of power could one day be read aloud as a crime.

That was why the news from the southern continent had struck Zephyr and the others so sharply. Relief washed over them at hearing their people were still behaving still civil, still causing no casualties. But worry lingered beneath that relief, because one moment of carelessness could undo everything.

Despite the pressure, Zephyr and the others chose not to inform the godlings in the southern lands about the looming legal confrontation. The last thing they needed was panic, outrage, or retaliatory pride.

And, on a more personal level, there was Ethan.

If they warned the distant godlings now, many of them—out of loyalty, fear, or strategy—would likely try to return. That would reflect terribly on Ethan, who had invited them as guests. Having one’s guests flee at the first sign of trouble was humiliating even in mundane circumstances. For a godling host, it would be a stain that lingered for centuries.

So the leaders held their silence, watching events unfold through clenched hands and guarded breaths.

Every passing minute without an incident was a relief.

Every passing minute with their people still safe and behaving was a blessing.

Their focus now was no longer on the immediate crisis, those pieces were already in motion, and the fallout was inevitable. Instead, Zephyr and the other leaders had shifted their attention to what would come after. Whatever the court decided, whatever punishment or compromise awaited them, one thing was unmistakably clear:

The era of the godlings was about to change.

Lines that had once been firm were beginning to blur. Old systems, traditions that had guided generations were trembling beneath the pressure of mortal defiance and their own people scrutiny. Whether they wished for it or not, a reordering was coming. The only question left was who among the godlings would be prepared for it.

Zephyr retreated to his private chambers, the weight of leadership pressing more heavily than ever. In the dim lamplight, he held a wooden-bound book, simple in appearance, yet heavy with power and legacy. It was the book his father had given him moments before his ascension, a relic passed down from his grandfather Ikenga.

A guidebook of sorts.

A record of warnings.

A chronicle of foresight.

Its pages were filled with outlines of solutions, paths carved from the wisdom of his grandfather. Notes scrawled in the margins by Ikenga, polished and refined by his father, Ikem. Ideas for governance, for unity, for resolving the inevitable growing pains of a people whose strength often outpaced their wisdom.

It was from this book that Zephyr had drawn the foundations of his own long-term plan, a plan meant to address the very challenges now boiling to the surface. A plan he believed would shape a new era for the godlings.

But the plan had not been born from him alone. It was the inheritance of three generations, braided tightly. Ikenga’s seed of an idea, then came Ikem’s structure and now wa sthe turn of Zephyr’s execution.

And yet... the world was not cooperating.

Events were happening both too slowly and too quickly at once.

Slow, because the pieces he needed, alliances, reforms, shifts in perspective were still out of place. Many godlings were stubborn, resistant, distracted. And the humans were not moving as quickly as they should.

Fast, because unexpected, uncontrollable events kept erupting in the gaps between his careful steps. Mortals launching accusations. Divine seals being invoked. Ethan’s action of withholding a crucial event from them and the godlings’ mischief threatening to spill into catastrophe.

The pace was chaotic, unpredictable. The board was reshaping itself faster than his hand could move the pieces.

Zephyr closed the wooden book, resting his fingers on its carved cover. His chest rose and fell in a slow breath as a new realization settled in.

His plan... might need to change.

The path laid out by his father and grandfather had been built for a different world, one where they could still dictate the balance of power. But this upcoming conflict with the humans, this unexpected confrontation backed by justice itself held the potential to shift public perception, divine judgment, and political power all at once.

It was dangerous but within danger existed opportunity.

If handled correctly, this conflict could become the very catalyst he needed, the spark to reform their slowly fracturing society, towards a new order with clearer laws, clearer leadership, and a clearer future.

Thinking of his plan, Zephyr felt his heartbeat drum heavily against his ribs, a slow, thunderous pulse that dragged memories out of the depths of his past. A past he had never truly understood until now.

He remembered the time when his father Ikem, during his rule had discovered the presence of a demon hidden among their people. A creature wearing the shape of an apeling, mimicking their innocence while weaving its own twisted agenda.

Zephyr had been younger then, still learning, still believing that leaders should act swiftly, decisively, without hesitation.

So when his father allowed the demon to continue its charade, to walk among them and pursue its plan under careful, silent observation, Zephyr had been appalled. Horrified. Outraged. Ikem had explained that to confront the demon too soon would bring no benefit, its secrets lost to them, and forfeit the knowledge it carried, knowledge Ikem believed could strengthen their people.

So the demon was allowed to act and it acted freely.

Even now, the memory made Zephyr’s blood run cold.

His fist tightened as the image flashed before him, the day they finally raided the demon’s hidden lair. The silence of the chamber. The stench. The stone floor stained with dark, dried blood. And the bodies.

Small bodies, twisted, mangled and thrown aside like broken toys.

Children.

Zephyr had felt his stomach churn, his heart collapse into itself. In that moment, his resentment toward his father flared like a wildfire. How could Ikem have allowed this? How could he have watched and waited while innocence was devoured?

He had not understood then.

But now, standing at the threshold of his own era, his own looming burden, he finally did.

Leadership wasn’t clean.

It wasn’t noble.

It wasn’t painless.

Sometimes the path to securing a future demanded decisions that left scars on the soul. Sometimes protecting one’s people meant staining one’s hands long before the threat became visible to others.

Zephyr exhaled shakily, his fingers loosening. Unlike his father, he would not face this alone. Once he revealed his plan to the other godling leaders, once they understood the purpose behind it, they would shoulder the same sin, the same responsibility. They would walk this path with him, all for the long-term survival of their kind.

He would not suffer solitude the way Ikem had.

But the time to gather them had not yet come. Ethan remained an essential piece, one that could not be moved or removed prematurely. And Ethan himself was currently under their scrutiny while preparing for the upcoming competition that held its own political weight.

Everything depended on timing. On patience.

On playing the long game.

Zephyr closed the ancestral book and gazed toward the distant horizon beyond his chamber window.

"Humans..." he murmured, a smile curling his lips thin, almost mocking.

"It seems your dreams will soon be realized."

But while his mouth shaped the grin of a man amused by fate, his eyes held something colder.