The Guardian gods-Chapter 479

The battlefield, thick with unspoken hostility, remained deathly silent. The only sound was the distant howling of the northern winds, swirling around the frozen wasteland.

Yuki and Wulv, taken aback by this unexpected development, wasted no time.

Both of them swiftly signaled their men to stand down. Their warriors, who had been coiled like springs ready to strike, hesitated for only a moment before obeying.

Yuki had her own reasons—reasons she chose not to voice just yet. But Wulv...

Wulv saw something deeper in this.

This golden-clad gorilla standing before them was a testament to a power beyond what he and the other godlings were aware of. It was an unknown force, an unaccounted existence—and Wulv had no intention of meeting such an unforeseen development with brute strength. Not without understanding it first.

A flicker of mana surged as both sides activated their magical devices. The air shimmered, refracting light for a moment before two spectral figures materialized—a projection of Yuki and Wulv, towering over the battlefield. Their presence, though not physical, carried an undeniable weight.

Zirikon, however, remained unfazed.

He still wore his calm, gentlemanly smile, his cigar smoldering faintly as he let out a slow breath of smoke. Yet, beneath this composed exterior, his free hand moved with practiced precision, fingers making rapid, almost imperceptible gestures against the fabric of his suit.

He was sending messages to Krogan—feeding information, detailing this sudden shift in events, and awaiting further instructions.

The silence was broken.

Wulv’s voice, steady but laced with unspoken scrutiny, rang across the frozen battlefield.

"Who are you?"

Zirikon’s golden eyes flicked toward Wulv. With a practiced, almost theatrical grace, he stepped forward and offered a deep, deliberate bow. His movements were smooth, exuding the kind of effortless refinement one wouldn’t expect from a beast king.

"I go by the name Zirikon, your grace," he responded, his voice deep and polished, like a seasoned diplomat.

Wulv nodded slightly, his expression unreadable.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Zirikon. But you still have not answered my question. Or... should I be more specific?"

There was no threat in Wulv’s tone—only patience. A predator waiting to see how its prey would move.

Zirikon chuckled softly.

"I would like for your grace to be more specific."

A challenge. Wulv fell into thoughtful silence.

For a brief moment, the weight of the unspoken conversation settled over the battlefield like a dense fog. Zirikon’s presence here was no accident. His words, his actions, even his mannerisms were calculated, measured. He was playing a game of retaining control, a game of information.

It was Yuki who broke the stillness.

Her voice, sharp and to the point, cut through the cold air.

"What are you doing on this land? Which force do you belong to?"

Her eyes remained locked onto Zirikon’s, searching for any flicker of deceit.

Zirikon exhaled another slow drag of smoke, the ember on his cigar flaring in the dim light.

Zirikon’s golden gaze flickered with mild surprise as Yuki took the lead in questioning him. He hadn’t expected her to be the one pressing forward so assertively.

Still, he followed protocol.

With fluid grace, he once again bowed—this time towards Yuki.

"Your grace," he acknowledged smoothly before straightening, his cigar still smoldering faintly between his fingers.

He exhaled a slow stream of smoke, his voice calm and unhurried as he continued,

"I came from the distant western continent to visit a friend of mine. As for the force I belong to..." Zirikon’s eyes gleamed slightly, observing their reactions. "I belong to no force, your grace. But perhaps you have heard of the Cursed Land from the western continent?"

The words were carefully chosen—neither an outright lie nor the full truth.

He had no choice but to tread carefully.

If he had falsely claimed allegiance to another land, the werewolf godlings would easily uncover the deception once they consulted the other godling races. And that... would have been an unnecessary complication.

Besides, he was no ghost. He had stepped into the world’s gaze centuries ago.

The harpies.

That encounter had not been forgotten. He wasn’t sure how meticulous the godlings’ records were, nor how far back their knowledge stretched. He could not afford to take the risk of contradiction.

This was the answer Krogan had given him.

"Give them just enough to hide our true purpose."

And so, he had done exactly that.

And sure enough, Zirikon’s answer yielded the exact response he had anticipated.

He watched the subtle shifts in Wulv’s expression, the flicker of thoughts running behind his sharp gaze.

Yuki, on the other hand, tried to act surprised.

But Wulv was no fool. He caught it immediately—the faint hesitation, the way she schooled her features a fraction of a second too late.

She knew something.

Wulv’s mind rapidly sorted through the implications.

The Cursed Land.

While it wasn’t officially considered a unified force, it still harbored powerful beast kings—beings that could shape the course of events just by their existence alone. And now, a formidable creature had stepped forth from that land, carrying itself with both undeniable intelligence and unsettling poise.

How had this gone unnoticed?

The mere fact that such a being had emerged without prior warning sent a dangerous ripple through his thoughts. He would need to consult the Harpies’ godlings immediately.

How had something of this magnitude transpired right under their noses?

Wulv masked his growing irritation with ease, his lips curling into a wry smirk as he spoke with a light, almost jesting tone,

"I take it this Beast King was the ’friend’ you came to visit?"

He gestured casually toward the Mammoth King, who had remained conspicuously silent throughout the entire exchange.

The massive beast had not uttered a single word—not out of deference, but out of sheer confusion.

He had no idea who this golden gorilla was. A ’friend’? He had made no such acquaintance.

In fact, which Beast King would allow another to step into their territory unannounced?

And yet, the Mammoth King was not a fool. He had been moments away from disaster.

The presence of so many powerful figures had all but sealed his fate—had Zirikon not appeared, the clash would have been inevitable, and he would not have walked away unscathed or alive even.

And so, for now, he chose silence. Watching. Waiting. Letting the pieces fall where they may.

Zirikon, without missing a beat, lied with a straight face.

"Indeed, it has been quite a while since we met."

The Mammoth King remained silent, unwilling to contradict the statement but inwardly wary of this sudden claim.

Wulv, however, was not the least bit surprised. He had already anticipated such a response. With a casual nod, he shifted his attention to the glowing portal still swirling ominously behind Zirikon.

"I believe gates such as these fall under the jurisdiction of the godlings on the Western Continent," Wulv remarked, his smile holding a sharp edge. "How exactly did you manage to acquire such magical technology?"

A simple question. Delivered with an easy going tone.

Yet it struck like a dagger.

Zirikon’s carefully maintained composure faltered for a fraction of a second. His smile twitched—so slight it was almost imperceptible, yet Wulv caught it.

This question... he hadn’t been expecting.

A sudden, uneasy respect grew within him toward the werewolf godling. With just a single question, Wulv had unraveled his lie.

Not belonging to any force?

If that were truly the case, how could he possess a godling level-sanctioned gateway?

Zirikon clenched his fist slightly, his other hand hidden beneath the fine fabric of his suit, making rapid movements as he signaled Krogan.

"What do I say?" The response came swiftly.

"Tell him I did it."

Zirikon hesitated. His instincts screamed against it.

"If I do that, he’ll immediately realize we’re working together."

Krogan was silent for a few moments, then finally answered.

"It’s inevitable. We must accept some losses."

Zirikon’s grip tightened. "He is a smart man, but that can be used against him."

"His growing suspicion of me will blind him to other things. While his focus remains on me, you and the others will move freely."

Zirikon exhaled through his nose, forcing himself to relax.

Sacrificial misdirection.

He had played this game before, with Krogan. He understood the strategy.

Slowly, he lifted his gaze back toward Wulv, and with a new plan in mind, he prepared his answer.

Zirikon’s mind worked fast. The weight of Krogan’s decision settled on him, but he showed no outward hesitation. Instead, he straightened his tie and exhaled a deep breath of smoke from his cigar, his expression once again the picture of calm.

"Ah, that," he finally said, as if the question had been nothing more than a mild inconvenience. He brushed off some nonexistent dust from his sleeve before looking back at Wulv. "A rather simple matter, really. It was granted to me by Lord Krogan himself."

He spoke the name with practiced ease, watching for Wulv’s reaction.

The werewolf godling’s smile didn’t fade, but there was something dangerous in his eyes now. He tilted his head, his fingers drumming lazily against his forearm.

"Lord Krogan, is it?"

A few murmurs arose from Wulv’s side, confirming his suspicion. The name was unknown but the figure behind it was not, and if they knew it, that meant Krogan had made himself known before.