Chapter 927
Without warning, an axe cleaved down from the sky, instantly splitting the trespassing paragon in two.
The brutal display sent a shockwave of caution through the remaining combatants. They quickly learned to steer clear of marked sanctuaries, recognizing the lethal peril of angering the gods.
For the terrified mortals, it was a blinding light in an endless darkness. Witnessing the divine protection manifest in such a terrifying, absolute fashion, worship of the ascended gods swelled in unstoppable waves.
For Tyrion, the final descent into true horror did not come from the threat of wandering killers or the crushing pressure of hostile domains. It arrived the moment his towering construction finally stood complete before him, only for him to realize it was fundamentally flawed.
The foundation of the tower hummed with a raw, discordant energy, but its apex stood agonizingly unfinished and hollow.
Panic setting in, Tyrion tore through the pages of the Tome, desperately searching for missing blueprints or structural pieces he might have overlooked. But every single material listed in the text had already been delivered by the god of trade, stacked precisely as bargained. The deity had held up his end of the bargain down to the last stone.
The crushing realization hit him like a physical blow, the information within the Tome was incomplete. Critical segments had been intentionally omitted, a trap meticulously laid out to strand him at the finish line.
Long ago, Tyrion had entertained a dark theory that his Tome was a fake, a cursed artifact purposely molded and planted along his path just to be found.
Standing in the shadow of his hollow tower, he desperately wanted to believe it was just paranoia. He wanted to cling to the fragile hope that he still had a chance to fix it, that salvation was within reach. But the reality was harsh.
And so, like a sobbing, scarred child, Tyrion shrank into the corner of his home. He curled up with his knees pulled tight to his chest, staring blankly at the unfinished, humming tower outside. To his fractured mind, that steady, vibrating hum no longer sounded like magic, it sounded like mocking laughter, a cruel echo echoing his utter ruin.
He wanted to run. He wanted to throw himself at the feet of Tide, to scream out into the void and demand to know why him, what terrible sin he had committed to deserve this trap.
But a single, trembling glance toward the higher plane froze the thought in his throat.
Tide’s realm boundary, once a distant sanctuary, was now a heavily fortified theater of war. The space bristled with the watchful, predatory eyes of other paragons, brushing across the threshold every single second, waiting to pounce on any sign of something unknown.
As the crushing weight of tension stretched across the world of Nana, time slipped away, and the day of the grand auction finally arrived.
King Edward moved instantly, contacting Tyrion and every other paragon now bound in service to the Sun Kingdom. Across the realm, the scene repeated itself, top human kingdoms and godlings rallied their forces, snapping into formation. In the blink of an eye, these towering powerhouses materialized together, standing before the colossal golden gates.
A short distance away, the independent paragons watched in guarded silence, eyeing the disciplined, unified ranks of their peers who had chosen to bend the knee to these rulers.
They didn’t have to wait long. With a deep, reverberating groan that shook the foundations of reality, the massive golden gates slowly began to swing open.
A ripple of hesitation rippled through the crowd, but the godlings wasted no time. Defying the nerves of those around them, they took the decisive first step across the threshold into the auction house.
Seeing their bold movement shatter the psychological barrier, the human kingdom powerhouses surged forward right behind them, leaving all doubt and hesitation behind as they stepped into the unknown.
"Wow," a paragon breathed out involuntarily, once again left utterly awestruck by the staggering wealth and opulence commanded by Tide.
Beyond the golden gates lay an expanding, breathtaking sea of clouds. Within this large expanse, every major kingdom had been granted its own distinct cloud-throne and seat, with their respective banners and flags flying proudly above them.
It was laid out like a magnificent celestial theater, the mighty kingdom powerhouses commanded the elevated higher stands, while the independent and bound individual paragons were seated and spread across the vast tiers below.
Yet, being seated lower did not mean their treatment was subpar. Their service remained pristine, fully tailored to the prestige of a paragon’s status. As they settled into their seats, a subtle shift rippled through the surrounding mists.
From the billowing clouds stepped forward maidens of ethereal grace, possessed of a beauty far surpassing anything native to the mortal plane. Each attendant was wreathed in a delicate pink haze, dressed in flowing, gossamer robes that hovered tantalizingly between translucent and solid.
They moved with silent elegance, carrying refreshments of the highest imaginable quality, nectars and draughts brewed personally by the verdant god, Ikem.
Merely a single whiff of the brew was enough to snap the paragons out of their tension. Having long since ascended past mortal biology, they possessed no physiological need for food or drink, yet here, in this divine theater, the peerless aroma clawed at their instincts, awakening a forgotten, primal craving within them.
That, however, was only the beginning. Following the refreshments came the main courses, extravagant meals masterfully cooked by none other than the arch-curse, the Covetous Leviathan. Much like the celestial wines and nectars, the food exerted a magnetic pull, instantly reawakening the dormant appetites of the ascended paragons.
As they indulged, delicate, cascading tunes began to weave outward from the clouds. The music was an intoxicating balm, instantly melting away the rigid paranoia and tension that had gripped the attendees for weeks. Soon, the theater buzzed with low murmurs and lively conversations as the paragons began exchanging theories and ideas about what Tide was preparing to unveil.
Some bold individuals even began flirting with the ethereal attendants. The maidens flirted right back, their interactions punctuated by bursts of musical, crystalline laughter that floated across the cloud-seats.
This luxurious atmosphere hung in the air until the ambient music abruptly cut silent.
Every eye snapped upward toward the sky as the colossal figure of Tide materialized from the sky. Striding right beside him was another giant entity whom many recognized at a single glance "Krogan"
Moving with earth-shattering weight, both gods assumed their massive forms and took their seats at the focal point of the theater.
Tide cast his vast, sweeping gaze across the assembly, a booming resonance carrying his words to every corner of the realm.
"I hope you all have enjoyed yourselves, and that my hospitality was well welcomed."
Tide received no response from the stunned crowd, prompting him to offer a slow, amused shake of his head.
"You are no fun," Tide rumbled, his voice echoing across the cloud-theater. "Part of having treasure and richness is also the capacity to enjoy and indulge in the advantages that come with it."
He let out a low chuckle, his gaze sweeping over the tense, watchful faces of the gathering.
"But as it stands, it seems you are all far more interested in the treasure than the scenery leading to it."
With a sharp, casual flick of his wrist, Tide snapped his fingers.
"I would be a bad host if I kept you all waiting."
In an instant, reality bent. The space within the theater violently stretched, forcing a vast distance between the assembly and the towering forms of the two gods.
From the newly created void below the clouds, massive grey monoliths began to ascend. Piercing the sea of mist one by one, twenty-four towering spires rose into the open air, standing in silent, imposing judgment before the paragons.
High in the stands, Tyrion’s hands violently clenched into fists, his nails biting into his palms. But his sudden, desperate tension went entirely unnoticed, swallowed whole by the collective awe of the crowd as every eye locked onto the rising towers.
Tide extended a massive hand, pointing casually toward the sea of cloud-seats. In unison, rays of light descended from the sky, coming to a dead stop right before the brows of the gathered paragons, hovering there in a silent request for entry.
Driven by an irresistible wave of curiosity, not a single person hesitated. They willingly dropped their mental defenses, granting permission.
The rays of light flashed and vanished, sinking directly into their minds.
In an instant, the true nature, purpose, and requirements of the towering spires flooded their consciousness.
Every eye snapped open at once. Across the cloud-theater, a collective gasp echoed as the sheer magnitude of the revelation hit them. Some of the paragons, utterly incapable of containing the shock, shot straight to their feet, staring blankly at the grey monuments towering before them.
A suffocating storm of greed, desperation, and profound regret swept through the assembly.