The Guardian gods

A slow smile spread across Ikenga's face. The pressure of fighting without his curses was a challenge he hadn't felt in ages. He stretched his neck, his knuckles cracking with a sound that, impossibly, echoed through the vacuum.

"So, no tricks, just pure concepts and clash of domains?" Ikenga's voice was a low rumble. "I can work with that."

Vellok remained silent, the star behind him flaring in response to his will. His hands came together, and between them, a sphere of pure, compressed light formed. To Ikenga this wasn't a physical object, but a conceptual blade of light, designed to sever. Its purpose was to cut the very thread of Ikenga's connection to the natural world to conceptually quarantine him.

Ikenga understood the attack's nature instantly. He looked at the star behind Vellok, the ultimate source of light and order, and then at the pulsing sphere.

Instead of dodging, Ikenga closed his eyes. The golden-green light of his divinity flared as he began to draw upon the chaotic energy of space for creation. A single, perfect rose blossomed in the vacuum, its petals unfurling in slow motion.

Vellok launched his attack. The conceptual blade shot forward, its target Ikenga to engulf him whole.

As the light-blade approached, Ikenga's rose began to grow, its vines wrapping around the destructive light once it got close. The petals, now turning into golden leaves, began to absorb the light, feeding on the star energy. The rose bloomed into a massive tree, its branches stretching across the battlefield. Its roots, glowing with golden-green energy, dug into the fabric of reality itself.

Ikenga's eyes, opened as he regarded the surprised Vellok. "My brother is a sun," Ikenga's voice reach Vellok across the void. "And to draw light into my realm, one of my first creations was a plant that absorbs the heat, fire, and light from the sun."

Vellok's initial surprise was now replaced by a flicker of annoyance. A shimmering sword of solidified light appeared in his hand, humming with potential energy. Ikenga responded by shedding his human form as he took his humanoid godly form, which was now the bigger than the size of a mountain. Vellok, not to be outdone, grew to match his scale, his form a brilliant, luminous silhouette against the star-dusted blackness of space.

Ikenga blinked, and in that instant, Vellok was gone. Ikenga managed to raise a massive arm just in time, but instead of flesh and wood, a forest of razor-sharp diamonds erupted from his skin, forming an impromptu shield. The sword of light, a star given form, slammed into the diamond forest, shattering a million facets into glittering dust but failing to penetrate.

This, however, was just a feint. The real Vellok materialized from behind, a second sword of light already stabbing out, aiming for Ikenga's head.

The tree, rooted in the very fabric of the void behind Ikenga, reacted instinctively. Its roots shot forth like spears, snaring Vellok's luminous wings and yanking him back with immense force. The diversion gave Ikenga the precious seconds he needed to retreat, narrowly avoiding the light mage's second strike.

Vellok's flicker of annoyance flared into outright rage. With a furious slash of his sword of light, he cleaved the tree in two. But instead of falling, the tree dissolved into a cascade of glittering motes, a constellation of green light that winked out of existence.

As the last remnants of the tree faded, Ikenga stood ready. In his hand, he now held a massive shield, its surface a mosaic of perfectly cut diamonds, reflecting the distant stars in a blinding array of prismatic light.

Ikenga has noticed something quite unsettling about Vellok. The goblin mage doesn't fight like others of his kind. To Ikenga, clashing with Vellok feels less like battling a mortal and more like facing a weaker, incomplete version of himself. This feeling stems from a fundamental difference in how they wield power.

A normal sixth-stage mage, even a powerful light mage, should have their power rooted in a comprehended law. Their magic would be a precise, intellectual application of concepts like the Law of Refraction or the Law of Intensity. They would understand light as a principle and manipulate it accordingly.

Ikenga, however, has no need for such laws. As an Origin God, he is a concept. His power is an innate expression of his will. He can turn stone to diamond with a thought, not because he understands the Law of Crystalline Structure, but because he embodies the very nature of what stone eventually would be.

Vellok, a mere mortal, seems to possess this same innate understanding. He changes the fundamental nature of light with a thought, a feat that should be impossible for a mage. This power, though, feels "off and forced." It's a facade, a mimicry of divine will. Ikenga's mind immediately turns to the angel sealed within Vellok, a being of pure light-concept.

The cracks in Vellok's power become glaringly obvious when Ikenga easily handles his attacks. A light attack from a true master should have temporarily severed Ikenga's connection to the natural world. Instead, the light attack was easily absorbed by Ikenga and repurposed into a tree of light. This shouldn't have been possible. The light was Vellok's, yet it seemed to have no identity, no master's will behind it, allowing Ikenga to effortlessly claim it.

The most damning evidence is Vellok's complete lack of control once his light leaves his body. The very tree Ikenga created from Vellok's power should have been felt and resisted by Vellok. Yet, as the tree attacked him, Vellok was powerless to stop it. He has no connection to the light once it's no longer physically touching him.

This is the key: Vellok's greatest strength is in close combat, where the light is an extension of himself. The moment that light is unmoored, the connection is broken. The power is not his to command; it belongs to the angel, and Vellok is merely a conduit.

"You are weak," Ikenga's voice was heavy with disdain as the shimmering diamond shield he had conjured dispersed into dust. He looked at Vellok not with anger, but with profound disappointment. "Weaker than your fellow mages."

Without waiting for a response, Ikenga's body began to transform. Earth seeped from his pores, hardening into a brilliant, crystalline shell that encased him in diamond armor. "I was expecting a challenge, not this," he continued, the words now muffled and echoing from within his new shell. "Your speed is a problem, but now that I understand your limitations, it is no longer a problem."

Beneath the diamond skin, a new curse took hold. It was a subtle and hidden, a Curse of Stolen Momentum. Ikenga would now pay a price, becoming sluggish and slow, but with every bit of stolen momentum, his speed would be greatly boosted.

Vellok's expression tightened the moment the curse took root. Just as before, The brilliant star pulsed like a heartbeat, unleashing a sweeping wave of light that washed over them. This time, however, Ikenga was prepared. His new curse was not on the surface; it was shielded, buried deep beneath the diamond armor. As the wave of light struck him, it didn't disrupt his curse. Instead, it fractured against the crystalline surface, scattering into a breathtaking but ultimately harmless rainbow of light.

Vellok took a deep, shuddering breath. The sound was a low whistle as he released another part of the seal. With a tearing sound, a third wing of pure light sprouted from his back, growing from a point just below the others. He was now faster than ever before.

To his heightened senses, Ikenga was moving in slow motion. The diamond armor, once a threat, now seemed like a heavy cage. He darted in, intending to use his blinding speed to overwhelm the Origin God. As he closed the distance, however, he saw something impossible: Ikenga's head, encased in its crystalline helmet, was slowly, deliberately turning to face him. The moment Vellok crossed an invisible threshold, a diamond-encased fist shot out with the speed of light.

The punch was impossibly fast, a blur of motion that defied his perception. At the last moment, the light on his face shifted, becoming a mirror to reflect the attack. But Ikenga's fist didn't land. It stopped inches from the reflective surface. The curse's power had given Ikenga a heightened perception, a momentary omniscience that allowed him to see Vellok's plan: had the fist landed, the reflected force would have been devastating.

Vellok's shock at the failed trap was fleeting. He used Ikenga's paused attack to his advantage, striking out with his sword of light. Ikenga raised a hand to block, but to his surprise, the diamond of his armor didn't hold. It instantly melted into a puddle of molten crystal on contact. Vellok had changed the nature of his light sword, imbuing it not with concussive force, but with a ferocious, extreme heat that no material could withstand.