The arrogant Paragons of this world who had witnessed the battle felt their overwhelming pride utterly crushed. It was a brutal wake-up call. They finally realized that their tier of power, no matter how physically or conceptually devastating, meant absolutely nothing if they lacked the continuous mana reserves to back it up.

Desperate and humiliated, they had tried to corner and ambush Osita, hoping to get the secret of the tower out of him. Yet, to their immense frustration, Osita had slipped through their fingers, escaping the combined, overwhelming effort of the realm’s strongest figures.

Ikenga had observed every single second of the battle, alongside his son, Ikelos. But as the dust settled, he noticed something strange and he wasn’t the only one. Far below, recovering from her defeat, Princess Nwadimma had noticed it too.

Exhausted from the staggering amount of energy she had expended, and with her body bearing the brunt of the heavy damage accumulated during her battle with Osita, the princess collapsed into unconsciousness the moment the fight concluded. Depleted to her very core, her passive instincts took over, and her physical form began to greedily absorb the ambient mana from the surrounding atmosphere.

Under normal circumstances, this wouldn’t have been a cause for concern. The world of Nana had never suffered from a scarcity of raw, natural mana.

However, this plays out differently when it comes to entities like Paragons. These were individuals who didn’t just cast basic spells, they actively manipulated, bent, and enforced Conceptual Laws upon the world. The sheer volume of mana required to manifest a fundamental law into reality was huge. Consequently, when a Paragon’s reserves were completely emptied, the vacuum they left behind required a staggering, dense concentration of ambient mana just to replenish.

Right now, a single fallen princess drinking from the atmosphere wouldn’t tip the scales. It would still take some time and a much greater number of depleted Paragons simultaneously entering a forced state of deep recovery, before the total ambient mana of this world took a sharp, noticeable plunge.

The arrival of Ikenga’s son, Ikelos, had fundamentally altered the rules of the world of Nana. He was the God of Stagnation and Succession, and with his existence, some rules have shifted to accommodate his divine domain.

Princess Nwadimma’s desperate, passive action of drawing in the surrounding ambient mana to refill her empty reserves was now recognized by the world as a form of hoarding, a localized pool of energy refusing to flow. It was, by definition, stagnation.

Because she was unconscious, her mind remained blissfully unaware of the trap snapping shut around her. But Ikenga saw it clearly from his realm.

With every breath of ambient mana she pulled into her core, the invisible thread connecting the princess to the newborn god grew thicker. It was a physical manifestation of a profound karmic debt she was racking up against the world, a debt that would eventually demand repayment.

It was only when Nwadimma finally opened her eyes and attempted to consciously accelerate her recovery that the true weight of her situation crashed down upon her. The moment she actively reached out to manipulate the surrounding mana, she felt the thick, suffocating tug of that karmic thread wrapping around her soul.

The princess froze. She abruptly cut off her absorption, her breathing shallow as fear and trepidation washed over her face.

She looked at her hands, trembling in the aftermath of her realization. She knew the new laws of this world all too well now. To allow oneself to stagnate, to trap energy and halt the natural cycle of succession, meant only one thing. An inevitable, terrifying visit from the God of Stagnation himself. And when Ikelos came to collect a karmic debt, his method of pruning always carried a single, definitive name "Death"

From his realm, Ikenga’s smile broadened as he watched the reality of his son’s divinity sink in. Out of sheer terror, the Princess deliberately cut herself off from the world’s energy, choosing to remain in a fragile, weakened state rather than risk drawing the attention of the God of Stagnation. This quiet choice fundamentally crippled the immediate military might of the Omadi Kingdom. It was the silent, hidden reason why, despite Nwadiebeube’s roaring public declarations and the outrage of the people, the kingdom’s vanguard never actually marched for war. They simply couldn’t afford to.

But a Paragon’s sudden vulnerability is a difficult secret to keep.

It wasn’t long before other Paragons began descending upon her chambers. They didn’t come out of sympathy, they came hungry for answers. They needed to know what had happened during her clash with Osita. They wanted to dissect her memory of the fight, desperate to understand how he could recover mana so quickly despite quality of spell and law used. They hoped that by studying her defeat, they could pierce through Osita’s mystery and gain understanding.

Instead, when they entered her presence, they were met with a shocking sight. They immediately sensed her hollow, unreplenished reserves. Cornered by their scrutiny and unable to hide her condition, Nwadimma was forced to speak the truth, the terrifying karmic debt that now stalked anyone who dared to overindulge in the world’s mana.

It was a staggering sight to behold. The fierce, unchecked arrogance that had defined the continent’s strongest beings evaporated. The predatory Paragons who had arrived looking for an edge suddenly fell into a quiet, panicked retreat. The ambition to hunt down Osita or wage war on neighboring territories died in their throats. No one wanted to clash anymore. No one wanted to risk emptying their mana reserves in battle, knowing that to recover meant inviting the Pruning God to their doorstep.

Merely knowing a Mage Tower existed was never enough. To truly command its power, one had to understand how it was created, how it was given life, and the foundational magic that birthed it. Even the goblin mages had never managed to acquire this deep knowledge, they could only desperately cling to the remnants they had stolen from the unknown Mage Civilization.

Ever since Osita’s battle, Ikenga had spent the majority of his time studying the tower’s complex architecture. It was a rare, genuine thrill for him. There were very few things left in this world that Ikenga did not know, yet despite his vast knowledge, the secrets of this structural engineering initially made him struggle to comprehend them.

As he stood in contemplation, a ripple tore through the fabric of space. A portal from the spirit realm spiraled open directly on the surface of the moon, and from its ethereal light, an apeling figure stepped out.

"You are here," Ikenga said, his voice carrying across the quiet expanse as he looked at his grandson.

Ember offered Ikenga a slight, respectful bow, nodding silently before turning his gaze toward the towering structure before them.

His grandson, Ember, was a figure Ikenga deeply desired to help. The boy was already walking a promising path, possessing the raw talent and drive, but he lacked the final, necessary push and the precise blueprint needed to truly ascend.

Driven by this need, Ember had set out on a grand journey for enlightenment, searching for the final missing piece of his ascension. It was during this quest that he accidentally stumbled upon the spirit realm, a mystical plane that revealed itself to a traveler only when it truly mattered.

Knowing the unique tether connecting the spirit realm to his own domain, Ikenga had reached out, guiding his grandson safely into his realm to offer his aid.

The young apeling had actually brought a rare bout of laughter to the old man when he confidently declared his intentions. Ember planned on crafting an artifact fit for Origin Gods, beings of Ikenga’s own stature. Yet, it was the sheer complexity of the forging process that had ultimately stumped the boy, halting his progress and bringing his ambitious path to a sudden standstill.

In response to his grandson’s ambitious words, Ikenga raised a hand, pointing up toward the glowing moon of his realm. Ember looked up, his expression clouding with confusion, unable to see the connection.

To help him understand, Ikenga said "That is an artifact of power. Created by me."

The confusion on the boy’s face instantly vanished, replaced by a look of sheer awe as the realization set in. Time was a luxury Ikenga possessed in abundance, so he began to recount his journey with Keles. He explained how, during those travels, he had been struck by a sudden flash of inspiration, a desperate need to overcome his greatest weakness at the time, his lack of the massive divine energy required to battle the mages and their towers.

"I am nature, and so nature empowers me," Ikenga stated calmly, before shifting the space around them and instantly bringing Ember along with him to the moon’s surface. 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

"This was once nothing but a barren rock, devoid of life, when I first laid eyes upon it," Ikenga said, gesturing to the nature filled landscape around them. "Its current state is the result of my divinity. I helped this planet give birth to a natural ecosystem fitting for it, and with the aid of the elements, I forged an atmosphere where breath and life could be sustained."