Chapter 107: Bloodlines and Black Stones
Back at the Iwuchukwu estate, twilight settled over the white stone spires and lush inner courtyards, where koi ponds shimmered beneath hovering mana lights. The air smelled of incense and old roots. Servants moved quickly but silently, clearing wine glasses and recalibrating the wardstones embedded in the walls.
Private guards, all Awakened at the Adept level or higher, re-engaged the spiritual seals of the inner sanctum. It was an unspoken law after a meeting with outsiders, even ones as powerful as demigods, the entire inner compound was to be spiritually realigned.
Inside one of the smaller chambers, Chinedu Iwuchukwu stood by a long obsidian window that overlooked the courtyard. His son, Christopher, leaned lazily on a high-backed chair, his fingers absently playing with a thin chain around his neck. Hanging from it was a simple silver ring too plain to draw attention, too potent to be meaningless.
"Did you notice?" Chinedu asked, voice gravelly.
Christopher's mouth curled slightly.
"Oh yes," he replied, eyes gleaming behind the soft smile. "I felt it. His aura touched the edge of True Sovereignty."
Chinedu gave a grunt. "What did the Laws say?"
Christopher's face lost its humor. His gaze turned inward for a moment, as though listening to something far away.
"They whispered," he said finally. "Not about him. But… something older. Like echoes through cracked stone. Even the Laws don't want to tell much."
Chinedu waved his hand in dismissal. "We don't kneel, boy. Not to emperors, not to kings, not to crowns. Watch him. Learn from him. But never fear him."
He turned, locking eyes with his son.
"The Iwuchukwus have always walked with the Laws we are not beneath them. Remember that. He is just a demigod."
Christopher bowed slightly. But inwardly, he was still thinking.
Just a demigod? That was no ordinary path of power… he might already be dancing near the Core Threads of Existence.
Far below, in the deepest sanctum of the estate beneath the ancestral library and behind triple-layered runes of concealment time itself felt still.
The walls were carved from night-black stone. Silver runes pulsed softly across the floor like veins of a sleeping beast. At the center of the sanctum sat an old man in white robes, legs crossed, eyes closed.
Around him, a spiral of golden mana slowly unraveled and rewound itself in a pattern older than language.
This was the Patriarch.
To the world, he was merely Chief Iwuchukwu, an aging business magnate and philanthropist.
In truth, he was a Mystic-level Monarch, balanced at the edge of transcendence. A being so deeply attuned to Law Ascension that his heartbeat sometimes caused the surrounding mana to swirl.
He didn't open his eyes when Ezekiel Iwuchukwu, his younger cousin and, entered.
"The meeting with the demigod went as expected," Ezekiel reported after bowing deeply.
The Patriarch made no gesture, no sound. Only when Ezekiel finished his detailed report did the old man finally move.
A slow exhale.
"We will wait," he said simply.
"He will return to us. In time."
Ezekiel said nothing, but inwardly he understood. They had already been noticed. That much was inevitable.
And beneath the Patriarch's words was another truth unspoken:
If Philip ever discovered the full nature of their family's legacy… war might follow.
But the Iwuchukwus were not unprepared.
Because centuries ago long before Nigeria existed, before colonists renamed rivers, and even before the walls of Ile-Ife were erected the Iwuchukwu line had produced something terrifying.
A god.
A true god, one who had broken the Veil of the Mortal World and ascended into the Celestial Realm.
Before he departed, he left behind a single artifact:
A black stone slab, shaped like half a broken egg, the edges jagged and impossibly smooth. It pulsed with runes no living scribe could translate runes etched directly into the threads of reality.
It rested now in the heart of the estate.
Each time an Iwuchukwu child was born, a drop of their blood was placed on that slab.
If the slab turned green, it meant they carried the ancient god's lineage. If it stayed gray that child wasn't one of them.
From that green glow, a single artifact would manifest:
A Necklace of Law.
The artifact wasn't always a necklace. It changed depending on the soul sometimes a ring, sometimes an anklet, or a carved bangle. But its essence was always the same:
It accelerated mana absorption.It protected the soul from exhaustion during communion with the Laws.It aligned their resonance with the natural weave of the world.
Every Iwuchukwu who wore one could eventually wield a Domain of Law once they reached Master level.
And those who reached Grandmaster… became something even more terrifying. Voices among the Laws.
This was the curse and gift of their line.
It was this divine inheritance that shaped their family's strategy.
One of their ancestors, long ago, had seen the future of war and chosen instead the path of commerce. They stopped conquering, and started owning banking, infrastructure, influence. And became a behemoth outside the earth. But now, a new variable had entered the field.
Philip Egboluche.
Young. Quiet. Indifferent. But so powerful that Demigods felt the need to whisper his name in caution. A demigod candidate who resonated with Universal Laws, who displayed no ambition,
He didn't attend the meeting because he knew Philip might have seen through him. And if Philip identified him as a true threat, the peace they had so carefully curated might shatter like porcelain in a storm.
Still… they were not afraid of him. The world didn't know that they had produced many demigods who left the planet and are stationed outside. It just wasn't easy for them to reach Godhood.