But the same restriction did not extend to the treasures bound to his essence. His treasures each carried his divine signature, yet were not his. The realization rippled through the divine assembly like a slow-spreading flame. The thought was intoxicating. If wrath could be made manifest through loopholes, then perhaps compassion, desire, or ambition could too. The line between restraint had never seemed thinner. Meanwhile, Erik continued his flight for a few seconds, the wind howling past his ears as he cut through the sky. Below him, the land stretched until he reached a vast, empty field barren, quiet, and untouched by civilization. No buildings. No people. Only the whisper of the grass swaying beneath the sky. He halted midair, hovering effortlessly, the ethereal hum of his divine spear stabilizing him. For a moment, the adrenaline that clouded his mind began to ebb away, replaced by a heavy, dawning clarity. He started piecing it together, the sudden appearance of the creatures, their grotesque forms, the way they moved with disturbing precision. They were unmistakably from his lab. But that didn’t make sense. His lab’s creations were failures, lifeless, incomplete shells of his intended design. They shouldn’t move. They shouldn’t think. They shouldn’t exist beyond the confines of his containment seals. Yet during the clash, when their claws met his weapon and their eyes locked with his, Erik had felt something. A faint but undeniable resonance pulsing through them, something divine, and horribly familiar. As one once blessed by Ikem, Erik knew that divine presence better than anyone. The subtle frequency of power that hummed beneath the surface of reality, the unmistakable pulse of his patron god’s essence. And these creatures... they bore that very same energy. A chill crawled down his spine. His thoughts raced, What did I do to anger him? Then it hit him, the truth slamming into his chest like a blade. His expression twisted in disbelief, then frustration. "Damn it..." he muttered aloud, the weight of realization heavy in his voice. For origınal chapters go to 𝘯𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭⚫𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦⚫𝘯𝘦𝘵 Before he could unravel the implications further, a sharp vibration ran through his weapon, the divine spear in his grip began to buzz violently, its resonance spiking with warning. Erik barely had time to react before his body seized, the man current surging through him halted in an instant. The air around him cracked with light as his flight faltered and he plummeted from the sky. Moments later, high above where he once hovered, the very air split apart. A rip in reality tore open, jagged and seething with divine energy. From within it, a trident thrust forward, aimed precisely where Erik had been floating seconds before. The weapon pierced only empty air. Erik from his sudden drop gathered himself as he shifted away to observe the incoming creatures. From the torn rift in the air, the first creature, the one bearing the trident tumbled through, its figure twisting as it fell. It flailed helplessly, unable to control its descent, slamming into the earth with a thunderous crash that sent dirt and fractured stone scattering. The wound in the air remained open, rippling like disturbed water. From it, another being emerged, this one far more composed. It stepped out gracefully, clutching a staff crowned with a luminous pearl. Unlike its brutish counterpart, streams of water gathered beneath its feet, forming a spiraling cushion that slowed its fall. Then came a chain, long and serpentine, snaking out from the still-gaping tear. It latched onto the swirling water conjured by the staff-bearer, tightening and pulling taut. From above, it dragged forth another being, its wielder, bound in shifting mist and fragments of water, forced out by the pull of the chain. The air rippled violently as the rift began to close, its edges folding inward with a deep hum that resonated through the field. Before it sealed completely, two more figures leapt through. One carried a spear of liquid water, its form constantly shifting elongating, coiling, and reforming as though alive. The other gripped a blade of frozen crystal, its surface shimmering with frost that hissed in the open air. Moments later, the rift vanished, leaving only silence and a field scarred by their arrival. The impact of their fall had gouged shallow craters into the earth, muddy water pooling and steaming faintly under their combined presence. From above, Erik hovered once again. His expression hardened as he surveyed the creatures below. He had thought he’d distanced himself enough to buy time, but seeing them emerge in such coordinated succession sent a chill through him. These were no mindless experiments anymore. He narrowed his eyes, letting his enhanced sight pierce through the layers of their forms. What he saw defied reason, no trace of structured energy, no recognizable power system coursing through their bodies. And yet, their very existence radiated a menace, a raw danger that gnawed at his instincts. Even as a 5th-tier peak being, Erik felt the subtle prickle of unease crawling down his spine. His grip on the spear tightened, his pulse syncing with its hum. Further insight left him utterly baffled. These were creatures of flesh and blood, yet their insides told a different story, a grotesque map of tangled roots, writhing and knotted together like a twisted forest buried beneath skin. Where muscle and bone should have been, there was only a mangled network of red, pulsating cords that glowed faintly with divine energy. No... They hadn’t always been . Erik’s eyes widened as realization dawned. The creatures had once been malformed, broken remnants of his failed experiments, bodies warped beyond repair. But now, something held them together. Ikem’s divinity. The divine essence was repairing his failures, reshaping them into something functional, something far more dangerous. And then he noticed the faint traces of foreign energy lingering within the red glow, human essence. "...The citizens," Erik muttered under his breath, horror tightening his chest. The energy of those who had been attacked, his people who had been absorbed by these abominations. The roots were using that stolen essence, breaking it down and repurposing it to perfect the monsters’ incomplete forms. He felt his stomach twist. It was both disturbing and... ingenious. Ikem had reshaped his abominations into monsters of pure physical traits, entities stripped of magical complexity, yet empowered by the sheer perfection of their flesh and muscle. The muscular makeup of the creatures was the first thing that made Erik tense. Every movement they made rippled with unnerving precision, layers of corded flesh pulsing in sync with the divine roots beneath their skin. Each motion carried the weight of refined strength, the kind that was not born but engineered. But his thoughts froze when his gaze shifted to their weapons. Each creature bore a weapon, impossibly refined, disturbingly fitting for their grotesque frames. The trident shimmered with condensed liquid light; the pearl-topped staff radiated gentle ripples of power; the spear and frozen blade glistened with unnatural sharpness. Erik’s brow furrowed. "Where did those come from?" he whispered. He knew his lab inside and out. He hadn’t crafted or even conceptualized weapons like these. There was no way the creatures could have made or summoned them. They lacked the intellect, the structure, and more importantly, the capacity to wield mana. He focused deeper, tracing the faint aura emanating from each weapon and his heart sank. There was no magical energy there. No runic pattern, no enchantment, nothing that even remotely resembled mana manipulation. These weren’t forged through any arcane process. They were manifestations, extensions of some divine interference apart from Ikem. The realization struck like thunder. The weapons seemed alive, not merely extensions of their wielders but sentient partners. They were thinking or at least responding as if fused to their users’ very essence. Erik could see it clearly: the weapons and the creatures were one. The creatures shouldn’t have been able to channel any form of power, not even basic mana manipulation and yet, the weapons themselves bridged that gap. Mystical abilities flowed through them like instinctive reactions, as if Ikem himself had forged them to bypass mortal limitation. What made it worse, what truly infuriated him was the sustainability of their unnatural existence. The stolen human essence they’d absorbed was burning away fast, dissolving as their bodies stabilized. By all logic, the divine roots should have lost their fuel, and the creatures should have collapsed back into their mangled forms. Instead, the weapons began to drink from the air itself, absorbing the ambient mana like sponges. The process was seamless, a divine substitute for mortal energy. The mending never stopped. The roots continued to knit flesh, the red glow pulsing with renewed vigor as the surrounding mana was drawn in to replace the fading essence. "Of course it wouldn’t be that simple..." Erik hissed, feeling the pressure of divinity thickening the air. His observation was cut short. The creatures below had all turned toward him, their gazes cold, unified, purposeful. The air trembled as their malformed throats worked to form sound, their newly restored vocal cords vibrating out of sync. What came next was a chorus of distorted voices, overlapping and jagged: The word carried divine weight, more a judgment than an insult. It reverberated through the air, echoing across the empty field like a decree of execution.