The Guardian gods

Rattan tried to move, to flee, but his feet were already stuck, bound to the ground by rapidly forming ice. A chilling numbness crept up his legs, and as his vision blurred, he saw, with dawning horror, that his own eyes were slowly turning into complete ice, the world fading into a frosted pane. Panic, raw and unbridled, finally consumed him. His composure shattered, he screamed into the frozen air, a desperate, guttural cry for his guardian: "Guardian! Help!"

Observing the unfolding catastrophe, Phantom made no move. He was no sixth-tier being, no master of cosmic laws. He held no authority, no inherent power to counter Lyra's dominion, no way to shield Rattan from the inexorable spread of her chilling influence. He watched, a silent, helpless witness to his Rattan agonizing transformation.

Phantom reached out, a desperate mental plea, to Ikenga, but received no answer. Yet, Phantom knew. He knew Ikenga was watching, a silent observer of the casual, catastrophic consequences of a higher-tier war.

Seeing Rattan's rapid succumb to the chilling onslaught, Phantom made a desperate gamble. He sent a wave of thought, a final, fervent message to his ward. Rattan, whose lower half was now a crystalline sculpture of ice, felt the surge of communication and, even in his terror, a flicker of joy ignited within him.

At that very moment, both Phantom and Rattan spoke, their voices, one a mental plea and the other a desperate rasp, overlapping in a synchronous invocation:

"Great Ikenga, Lord of the untamed wild and master of the spoken word. I humble myself before your boundless power."

"From the rustling leaves to the deepest roots, you are the breath and bone of nature's heart. I seek your favor to walk safely within your green embrace, to be shielded from nature's hidden fangs, and guided through paths where shadows might lurk. Protect me from the storm's fury and the land's vengeful tremor."

"Grant me your fierce guardianship, that I may thrive amidst the wild's beauty and remain untouched by the venom of my foes. I offer my respect to your primal strength, and trust in your unwavering protection."

In direct response to their united prayer, a radiant golden dome shimmered into existence around Rattan. The dome pulsed with an immediate, profound warmth, pushing back the encroaching cold. Safety enveloped Rattan, and slowly, miraculously, the ice receded from his legs, his flesh regaining its normal hue and sensation. The golden light hummed with a primal energy, a clear, unmistakable sign of Ikenga's unwavering protection.

From the ground within the golden dome, an impossible bloom began. Lush, vibrant flowers and plants unfurled with breathtaking speed, their petals and leaves a riot of greens and deep earth tones against the stark, frozen wasteland outside. Rattan, his body now fully restored from the icy grip, felt himself softly enveloped by their burgeoning forms, cradled by the sudden eruption of life. His mind, however, was filled with a sensation far more profound than the tactile comfort. A presence, immense and ancient, settled within his consciousness, a power no less, and perhaps even more, than that of the sixth-tier beings tearing apart the sky.

"So that's who my guardian answers to," Rattan murmured, taking a deep, shuddering breath. He looked beyond the shimmering golden shield, his gaze sweeping across the transformed Abyssal layer. What had moments ago been a realm of searing heat and sulfurous air was now being systematically frozen over, a vast, glacial landscape expanding with terrifying speed. Every living thing caught in the advance was being turned into a delicate, horrifying ice sculpture, perfectly preserved in their last moments of terror or flight.

Phantom, meanwhile, stood before the materialized figure of Ikenga. Phantom said nothing, but his intense gaze, a silent question, clearly asked why Ikenga had remained unresponsive, why he had been so terribly silent during Rattan's near-demise. Ikenga, however, offered no immediate answer, his gaze seemingly fixed on something else.

"I wanted you to surprise me," Ikenga admitted, his voice a calm murmur.

Phantom wasn't surprised by the answer, his expression stoic as he responded, "That was a move from a sixth-tier being."

"I created you," Ikenga stated simply, the words hanging in the frigid air, a quiet assertion of his profound power and connection to Phantom.

Phantom remained silent for a moment, then, his gaze unwavering, he asked, "Were you disappointed with my response and the way I handled it?"

Ikenga chuckled. He closed the distance between them, effortlessly bringing Phantom into a headlock. "No," he mused, his voice laced with a strange pride. "That was the first time since your change into an Arch-Curse you prayed to me." He released his grip. "I am proud. You can admit when you are weaker."

As Ikenga spoke, Phantom's ever-shifting, ethereal face subtly began to coalesce, reforming into his true, original visage before return back to it's evershifting state. He himself might not have noticed the subtle change, but Ikenga certainly had.

Ikenga released his grip, and it took a moment for Phantom to fully gather himself "What are the next steps for Rattan?" he asked, his gaze still holding a hint of the concern that had prompted his desperate prayer.

Phantom continued, laying out the difficult reality. "If he somehow survives this war, there will be many questions about why only he survived, considering his strength. Or do you plan on him returning to his original identity as a Ratman? That way he can be hidden from the Empire's sight."

"Is that where your host or main character ambition ends?" Ikenga countered, posing a question to Phantom rather than providing an answer.

Phantom remained silent, a long moment passing before he slowly shook his head.

"You have your answer then," Ikenga observed, a knowing glint in his eyes. He then placed a hand on Phantom's shoulder, a gesture of connection and subtle empowerment. "I don't like interfering and prefer things to progress in their natural way. You are at the edge of becoming something greater; it's time you stop asking for what I think and start dictating how things should move in your way."

Note: Check M_VLEMPY_R for any corrections.

Ikenga's form began to dissipate, shimmering like a mirage until he was almost gone. "Your previous pawn, Malzor, is now a sixth-tier being," his voice echoed, calm and resonant even as he faded. "And he believes you are the one to bring him to such a position. He will make his appearance to you at the opportune time." With that, Ikenga vanished completely, leaving Phantom to ponder his words. To phantom, the message was clear: proceed as he would, for Ikenga would always be watching, ever one step ahead, ensuring his path was clear.

Outside the golden dome, Rattan stood at its very edge, gazing up into the tumultuous sky. His trusty cube floated beside him, its shape fluidly morphing, then solidifying into a pair of goggles, designed to cut through the chaotic energies of the higher-tier conflict.

Yet, even with enhanced vision, he could barely discern the true nature of the battle raging above. The sheer scale and speed of their movements blurred into incomprehensible streaks of light and shadow. The only things he could clearly differentiate were the figures of Kaelen and the Demon Queen, their forms sometimes a blur and some times distinct amidst the maelstrom.

Witnessing a fight of this magnitude, Rattan couldn't help but feel a profound sense of awe, coupled with a deep, personal reflection. His thoughts drifted to his own future, to the laws he would one day embody. His current path as a mage wasn't focused on raw power or destructive might, but rather on production through learning. He pondered how his chosen path would ever align with the god-like beings who tore apart reality with casual ease. The vastness of their power both intimidated and inspired him, shaping his burgeoning ambitions.

Rattan was a craftsmith, through and through. That was where his true talent lay. He couldn't envision himself as someone who would simply wave a hand and tear the sky apart. In fact, he hated fighting, finding absolutely no joy in it.

Mana was endlessly fascinating to him, so much so that Rattan couldn't comprehend why most mages seemed so fixated on increasing their firepower—leveling mountains and all that destructive nonsense.

This was precisely why he was so drawn to the magi-tech path. It offered the potential to produce incredible magi-tech devices and equip an entire army, rather than putting oneself in constant danger on the battlefield.

Rattan felt held a grasp about his unique path when he suddenly heard a voice, seemingly from nowhere, remark, "I don't think watching six-tier fights is that interesting."

Rattan spun around, his heart pounding. No one should be inside the golden dome with him. He was met with a truly bizarre sight: an enormous being, the largest he had ever seen. Even though it was sitting cross-legged on the newly grown grass, Rattan had to crane his neck to get a full glimpse of the figure.