I Became a Mythical Hunter After Killing the Golden Goblin - Chapter 223

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 223. Divine Seat: The Herald Who Soars Through Heaven
Helpless. I could only watch as my traps and battles crumbled to dust. The schemes and combat encounters devised by the Divine Seats of the 100s Floors were analyzed, dismantled, and rendered utterly worthless.
My original plan—to gather intelligence on my opponent’s full strength and report it to the upper floors—became meaningless the moment I learned I could kill the entire entity.
The new objective became buying time for the upper Divine Seats to adapt to Solomon’s power, and eventually master it themselves. But even that proved impossible.
Hermes’ brilliant cunning and the hierarchical schemes constructed by the subordinate Divine Seats under his command crumbled before Akasha’s omniscient information.
The monsters and spirits of Olympus summoned to restrain him were utterly incapable of contending with a creature that devoured enemies and grew stronger with each kill.
An unstoppable momentum. Shin Ju-ha, who had grown stronger by effortlessly eliminating the rancher on Floor 110 without even fighting, was ascending with terrifying speed.
The Divine Seats of the next floors were forced to experience a cascade of conflicting emotions.
First came denial. The god overseeing the lower floors hadn’t died—Shin Ju-ha simply hadn’t reached this level yet, so information hadn’t reached them!
They clung to this self-deception, denying the reality before them.
But soon they realized this was absurd. Because starting from Floor 101, every floor was designed so that all players could ascend together through cooperation.
Merely hearing reports from the players climbing up from below was enough to understand what kind of rampage Shin Ju-ha was conducting.
They had planned to deceive the players with false information favorable to them, hoping to impede Shin Ju-ha’s progress. But that madman paid no heed to such schemes, methodically annihilating everything that displeased him while ascending at a frenzied pace.
Next came panic. They were horrified and bewildered by these unfolding events. Could they—subordinate Divine Seats of the Chief Gods, wielders of immense authority, especially those among the non-combat Divine Seats—have ever faced a situation like this?
I was certain they had never experienced anything remotely similar, let alone engaged in proper combat.
As if to prove this point, Shin Ju-ha actually spent more time clearing the trials of each floor than they did.
They were nothing more than fools who had coasted through existence on raw power alone. Idiots born as children of gods, raised as subordinates of gods, living only as they pleased—their minds were flower gardens of delusion.
They were little more than powerful children. True to their nature as subordinate Divine Seats under Hermes, they were cunning and efficiency-driven, fighting with underhanded tactics. Yet they were utterly crushed by Shin Ju-ha, who could rightfully be called the God of War.
So their panic was inevitable. Those who had once ruled and dominated were now experiencing what it meant to be weak. It was a natural emotion.
Next came rage, and only after exhausting their fury did they finally experience an emotion they had never known before: fear.
The fear of death. An emotion they had never felt, it drove them to madness.
But there was nothing they could do. They could only tremble anxiously, awaiting their demise.
Escape? The thought never crossed their minds. In truth, they could have fled. Surrendering one divine vessel and a portion of their power would be a better bargain than complete annihilation.
The problem lay in what came after. What if they fled, only for Shin Ju-ha to die at the upper levels, allowing Olympus’ grand plan to succeed?
There would be sacrifices, yes, but they would reclaim the Primordial’s power and Olympus would flourish. They would mourn the fallen gods and honor their sacrifice, but having gained so much, they would deem the cost acceptable.
And then? What would become of a traitor who abandoned even the Chief God they served for their own safety?
Tartarus. Tartarus! How terrifying that name was.
The Endless Hell. The Prison of Eternity. The Tomb of All the Fallen.
Even Zeus himself could not escape Tartarus unscathed. Within all of Olympus, only two beings could emerge from that place intact.
Heracles—possessed of overwhelming and incomprehensible power, technically within Olympus’ domain yet fundamentally opposed to Olympus itself.
In fact, he was currently imprisoned in Tartarus by Zeus and the Twelve Olympian Gods. Though of course, it was entirely voluntary imprisonment.
He had been unable to bear the slaughter wrought by his own hands during the war, his mind half-shattered in the aftermath.
The other was Hades, the warden of Tartarus, the father of all death, and Zeus’ elder brother.
He too belonged to Olympus yet did not. His true domain was the Underworld. He managed all matters of death—an entity equal in standing to Zeus.
Save for these two, no one could escape Tartarus.
To be imprisoned there? That meant being neither alive nor dead, eternally suffering in an endless prison.
Annihilation seemed almost merciful by comparison.
Moreover, the Chief Gods themselves could not flee. While for similar reasons, they would likely avoid imprisonment in Tartarus.
Instead, they would be cast out from Olympus, stripped of everything they had been granted.
Their authority. Their mythology. Their faith. If they had to surrender everything they had gained within Olympus, they would cease to be great Chief Gods and become merely ordinary Divine Seats, their glory utterly diminished.
As a Chief God, the enmities he’d accumulated would never stand idly by and watch. No matter how the situation unfolded, death was inevitable.
It was a moment of being trapped between two impossible choices. At the same time, it was a crisis that would ignite the moment anyone pressed the trigger.
But those who had been revered their entire lives, born noble and exalted as Divine Beings from the start, possessed no such courage to defy the heavens.
Contrary to the unwavering belief of the upper Divine Beings that Shin Ju-ha would be held back for at least two to three months, he conquered the 100s Floors in less than two weeks.
“Finally, we meet. The 12 Olympian Gods.”
On Floor 199, he finally faced Hermes, one of the 12 Olympian Gods who could rightfully be called his arch-nemesis.
***
【This is absurd. What kind of nonsense is this…】
Hermes could only watch helplessly as Shin Ju-ha wiped the blood from his blade before him, radiating a murderous intent that bordered on madness.
A monster. That’s what he is. A monster that devours everything and grows stronger.
When his father Zeus was pushed back in his war against the rebellious Titans, he had impregnated the most excellent woman with his power and seed to birth victory—Heracles, the incomprehensible monster of Olympus, called the strongest existence. Even he was nothing like this.
No, the growth was so overwhelming that comparing it to even Heracles felt like an insult.
No matter how the Bottomless Pit sealed away pre-existing power and functioned as a system of renewed growth, there had to be limits.
This transcended all categories. How could a mere mortal, a creature of insignificance, achieve such growth?
【What exactly are you?】
“That’s a profound question. Are you truly the God of Information? Who am I, you ask…?”
【Are you mocking me?】
“You caught on? I was just trying to ease the tension before we fight. Don’t mind it.”
Hermes watched with exasperation as Shin Ju-ha drew two blades, chuckling softly.
Madness. There was no other way to describe it. Not insanity—but those crimson eyes burning with such intense killing intent spoke of something else. A Divine Authority.
A Divine Authority wielding impossible power. In other words, a chosen force. One more than sufficient to become a concept itself.
‘Is that it?’
Is that the power to annihilate existence?
True to his nature as the God of Information, Hermes had been relentlessly attempting to read everything about Shin Ju-ha from the moment they faced each other until now.
Dozens of Divine Authorities were manifesting, straining to glimpse his status window, storing every trivial habit and breath in his mind.
The misfortune was.
〚An overwhelming barrier blocks all reconnaissance!〛
The information protection barrier created by Akasha had rendered every single attempt completely futile.
Helplessness. His reconnaissance ability, which had never once failed, which worked effortlessly even against his father Zeus, was utterly ineffective against this one being.
This was unprecedented. Fighting an incomprehensible existence without any prior intelligence.
Anxiety crept in. The aura he sensed was not inferior to his own. No—it surpassed him. Defeat meant certain annihilation.
For one of the 12 Olympian Gods who ruled the vast Divine Realms of Olympus, such emotions felt pathetically weak and fragile.
Yet Hermes was drowning in the terror of death.
***
Somewhere within the Abyss. Or rather, a shadow world that exists within the Abyss yet does not exist.
A stage where everything exists yet does not exist, where life lives yet does not live, where it is managed yet refuses to be ruled.
A subterranean depth far deeper than the Underworld where the dead gather. The shadow of Naraka—that was the alternate name pointing to this very place.
Tartarus.
A place created as a playground for amusement when Nyx, the goddess of night—a Concept Divine Seat and one of the primordial beings born simultaneously with Ouroboros and The Creator—descended from the 2nd Dimension into the 1st Dimension.
Moreover, it was a prison from which no one could escape.
Of course, exceptions always exist. Just as perfection does not exist in this world, there were certainly beings that even this prison could not contain.
In fact, across all dimensions, they could be counted on both hands.
The only thing was that such beings had no reason to crawl into this hellish Naraka. No matter how much Tartarus was officially recognized as a stage by the Abyss.
Yet exceptionally, one of those beings counted on both hands was imprisoned here.
The Great Hero. Heracles.
A being conceived by Zeus, the chief god of Olympus, using part of his primordial power—the power of the heavens inherited from his grandfather Uranus—combined with his own seed and the most perfect mother he could choose.
A demigod born solely for battle.
The embodiment of prophecy.
The savior of Olympus.
The slayer of giants.
The terminator.
So many were the alternate names that adorned him, yet even they could not fully capture all his deeds.
In terms of raw power alone, he was among the rarest beings across all dimensions. Yet unlike his might, his temperament was far too merciful and benevolent—a war god who had gone half-mad, driven to madness after the war’s end.
Furthermore, a tragic genius who had been discarded and imprisoned in this very dungeon.
He rose to his feet in Tartarus. The madness that had tormented and gnawed at him was already overcome.
Beyond standard measure. Though not comparable to Shin Ju-ha, who had consumed the very essence of The Creator and every great fortune imaginable, overcoming mere madness was entirely within the reach of Heracles, whose very existence was the incarnation of the incomprehensible.
【It is time to leave.】
The reason he had remained confined in Tartarus was simple. If he stepped into the world, war would erupt once more.
He was born for war. That his mere appearance would spark conflict was inevitable causality.
For one who despised war, there was no greater torment, and so he had imprisoned himself in Tartarus.
The beings of Olympus knew this well and exploited it.
Now he turned toward the world beyond Tartarus. For a revenge he could not enact in the past. To destroy Olympus, which had used and abandoned him. For the one his Apostle had requested in the end.
For the Successor walking his own path of duty.
And to meet the only being capable of breaking this cursed causality that bound him.
The unbreakable shackles that bound him shattered in an instant.
【Olympus.】
Thud. Thud. Thud.
The overwhelming pressure emanating from his towering frame, exceeding five meters, intertwined with the ferocity radiating from the lion’s hide draped upon his head, resonating through the air.
【Your abandoned hunting hound has returned. To tear out your throats.】
The moment the great hero’s club—he who had once slaughtered giants for Olympus—turned toward Olympus itself.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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