The Guardian gods-Chapter 451

"Beings born as gods," he continued, gesturing towards the origin gods, "have their own way of living. They have their own energy and power sources to sustain them as they grow. But ascended gods do not have such luxury. Only one energy matters most to us, which is faith energy."

"Energy that comes as a result of mortal worship," he emphasized, "the growth of our realm, the sustainability of our realm, our growth in strength and power, all depend on this energy."

"Because of how important this energy is to us ascended gods," he explained, his voice gaining a sharper edge, "many newly ascended gods go out of their way to expand their religion to gather as many mortal worshippers as they can."

Maul interrupted him, his voice laced with a hint of accusation. "Just like you did in your time, spreading your faith across the continents."

Björn remained silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on the thick, red wine swirling in his cup. "That was not by my doing," he finally said, his voice low and measured. "It was done by the one on the southern continent, in hopes to control me."

He looked at Mahu, his expression softening slightly. "If not for your mother, I doubt today’s invitation would have been sent to me."

"This was another lesson I meant to impart to you as ascended gods," he continued, his voice regaining its authoritative tone. "Having your faith spread out uncontrollably will lead to a taint in your divinity, an uncontrollable change in your character. It is just like overfeeding."

"Unlike born gods, we need time to break down and fully absorb faith energy. Faith energy is filled with the thoughts and expectations of mortals, making it tainted and not pure, which is why all these need to be filtered out before absorbing."

"Too much faith energy means one has no time to filter, but instead absorbs it as it is, which causes a change in the god absorbing it. For example, in my case, the extremity of my divinity was brought out, leaving me senseless and unable to think, attacking everything in sight."

"His sole goal being to have an uncontrollable god he could control any time he wants. Thankfully, that was stopped, and now, as we speak, my religion is being relinquished from other continents and being focused solely under my kingdom in the mortal world to avoid such issues."

"While faith energy seems all bad, it is different when the source is focused on the believers of the religion and not spread out. Faith energy that comes as a result of this is much easier to filter and absorb."

"Think of it like this," Björn continued, his voice resonating with the weight of experience. "Faith energy is not a uniform substance. It’s a collection of emotions, desires, fears, and hopes, all interwoven into a single, potent force. When a mortal prays, they’re not just sending out a blank request. They’re imbuing that request with their entire being, their very essence.

"For a born god, this is less of an issue. Their inherent nature allows them to process and filter these emotions naturally, to separate the pure devotion from the tainted desires. But for us, ascended gods, it’s like drinking unfiltered water. You might quench your thirst, but you’re also taking in impurities that can make you sick.

"When you spread your faith too wide, you’re essentially opening countless faucets, each spewing out unfiltered energy. You become overwhelmed, unable to process it all. The impurities accumulate, twisting your perception, warping your personality. You become a reflection of the collective desires and fears of your worshippers, not a true god.

"That’s why focused faith is so important. When your worshippers are concentrated, their emotions are more aligned, their desires more unified. It’s like having a single, clean spring. The energy is still potent, but it’s easier to filter, easier to absorb. You maintain control, you remain true to yourself.

"And that control," he emphasized, his gaze sweeping across the newly ascended gods, "is paramount. Without it, you are nothing more than a puppet, a tool for the whims of mortals. You become a slave to their desires, a reflection of their fears. And that," he concluded, his voice low and grave, "is a fate worse than death for a god."

The newly ascended gods wore grave expressions, the weight of Björn’s words settling heavily upon them. The prospect of losing one’s sense of self, of becoming a mere vessel for the fickle desires of mortals, was a chilling one.

It was Jaws who broke the silence, his booming voice cutting through the somber atmosphere. "I’m guessing it isn’t as easy as you make it out to be."

Björn nodded, a wry smile playing on his lips. "Of course," he said, a slight laugh escaping him. "It would be wonderful if everything went so smoothly, but sadly, there are many factors that prevent such success."

"An example," he continued, "is having enemies, such as the one I have, who are willing to spread your faith even without your request, using it as a weapon against you. Another is the slow growth that comes after the sublimation of one’s religion."

"The growth of one’s religion always has a limit," he explained, "unless one is willing to wait for years as their believers expand in number through natural birth growth, or take the next step, commonly known as a war of faith, where gods battle for lands and the growth of population to add more people to their faith."

"These wars are not simple skirmishes," Björn elaborated, his voice taking on a darker tone. "They are brutal, devastating conflicts that can consume entire worlds. Gods clash, their powers reshaping reality, and mortals suffer the consequences. It’s a desperate gamble, a high-stakes game where the victor gains immense power, and the loser faces annihilation."

"And even if you manage to avoid war," he added, "there’s always the risk of internal strife. Mortal faith is fickle, easily swayed by charismatic leaders or promises of power. A single charismatic individual can turn your entire religion against you, twisting your teachings to suit their own agenda."

"Maintaining a focused religion," he concluded, "requires constant vigilance, a delicate balance of power and influence. It’s a constant struggle, a never-ending battle against external threats and internal corruption. It’s a path fraught with peril, but it’s the only way to retain your divinity, to remain true to yourself."

"Why would we resort to a war of faith?" Ursual asked naively, her wide eyes reflecting the innocence of someone who had never seen the darker struggles of divinity. In her mind, there was no need for conflict — not between family, not between gods. The bonds that tied them together should have been stronger than the hunger for power.

Ikem’s hand settled gently on her shoulder, his grip firm yet comforting. His smile was small, tinged with a sorrow that only those who had lived long enough could carry. The weight of knowledge, of centuries of struggle, dimmed the warmth in his amber eyes.

It was Crepuscular who answered, his voice low and measured, as if each word carried the burden of countless forgotten wars. "Because, my daughter... as a god, you must understand that power is not a luxury — it is survival. The world you see now is sheltered, but the realms beyond our own are far less forgiving. A slow growth..." he paused, letting the weight of his words settle on her, "...means death. Or worse — losing your divinity altogether."

Ursual’s brow furrowed, her heart quickening at the notion. The thought of losing her place among the gods, of falling into obscurity, gnawed at the edges of her mind. Yet, the idea of turning on her own kin in pursuit of power felt equally unthinkable.

Crepuscular’s gaze softened slightly, though the hard truth remained in his voice. "Your uncle and aunt are in the outside world — perhaps even in another universe — searching for ways to strengthen our pantheon. The world beyond this one is far greater than you can imagine. It is not enough to simply exist, Ursual. Every god, every being, is bound to the path of power and growth. To stand still is to wither. To fall behind is to be devoured."

Ikem’s hand tightened on her shoulder, offering silent support as the weight of those words settled on her.

"It so happens," Crepuscular continued, his eyes narrowing, "that one of the most effective paths to growth is to take from others. There are worlds where weaker gods have been consumed by stronger ones. Pantheons broken, their faith stolen to fuel another’s ascension. For now, our world is safe... but not forever. An attack can befall us at any moment, whether we desire it or not. When that moment comes, a god without power will lose everything."

Ursual’s lips parted, but no words came. The warmth of Ikem’s hand and the cold logic of her father’s words weighed heavily on her heart. In that moment, she began to see the truth — that divinity was not a gift freely given, but a mantle fought for and fiercely protected.