Level -99 Archmage - Chapter 111

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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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Episode 111. Kill Each Other
“……Will it work if I post it like this?”
Land of Valhalla.
Once all the preparations were complete, Adora asked with uncertainty written across her face.
The reason was simple: the post she’d uploaded to the Creator Community moments ago was deeply peculiar.
She’d written and posted it according to Park Chan-woo’s instructions, but the content was bewildering.
At least more so than anything she’d ever seen on the Creator Community before.
“Isn’t it too crude?”
The quality was abysmally low.
Every post that remained in the community was measured.
Perhaps because they were all Lords of the Abyss?
Anonymous or not, they maintained a certain dignity.
None of them crossed that final line.
They all preserved their dignity to the end.
Would they truly respond to this kind of low-brow drivel?
“That’s precisely the point,” Park Chan-woo replied.
Yet he remained perfectly composed.
The Lords of the Abyss were those who ruled countless demons.
With territories spanning the vast Abyss, they had maintained an outward appearance of nobility across eons.
That was the nature of a throne.
To sit upon it meant bearing that weight, and so they strived never to lose their dignity.
But in his view, it was all bullshit.
‘Just self-image calcified over ages. Look at how they actually behave—their words and deeds don’t match at all.’
Nobility? Dignity?
The weight of the throne?
All nonsense.
The most trivial, most burdensome, most utterly worthless beings in existence were the Lords of the Abyss and Creators like them.
Backstabbing fellow Creators was standard practice and common sense in their world.
Ancient friendships? Bonds forged in war?
Such words were treated as jokes in the Abyss.
For instance, when a Lord lost Creator status and weakened, the demons who served under him for lifetimes would routinely kill him and seize his throne.
‘And yet these creatures cling to power as masters of the Abyss.’
Honestly, he couldn’t fathom why they even governed the Abyss at all.
They should have collapsed and perished long ago—demons were the very pinnacle of selfishness.
The real mystery was singular.
Why did the Twelve Races tolerate the demons?
From his experience with the Dragon God Sephiro, the true form of Sephiros—the Transcendent Dragon—was such an overwhelmingly powerful existence that a single word could erase humanity.
A monster of that caliber could potentially overturn the Abyss itself.
And if the other Twelve Races allied together, they could surely stand against the Great Nine Lords.
Yet they did not ally.
They remained utterly separate.
Humanity had never discovered the reason.
Could never discover it.
Because in the Race Wars, humans had always finished dead last.
In truth, to the Twelve Races, humans were lower than slaves.
On a good day, they might be worth something like insects.
……In any case.
Posting low-quality content to the Creator Community through Adora had been entirely Park Chan-woo’s design.
The Lords of the Abyss, who kept only a facade of dignity.
They had stagnated so thoroughly, remained static for so long, that they were vulnerable to novel Agro.
To have one’s identity exposed after drawing attention was embarrassment beyond compare.
A misstep could prompt other Lords to mobilize and concentrate their assault.
So they merely pretended to maintain their composure.
But Adora and Park Chan-woo were different.
From the start, neither was a Lord of the Abyss, nor a Creator.
“……Mm.”
Adora still looked unconvinced.
He understood.
When had she ever drawn this kind of Agro before?
Though Park Chan-woo had instructed her to do it, he’d clearly seen her hands hesitate as she used the community.
“Doesn’t it stand out to you?”
“Well, even mixed in among other posts, it does catch the eye remarkably….”
“What’s its ranking?”
“It’s real-time number one among posts classified as ‘Earth.'”
“And the reaction?”
“……Do you really need to hear it?”
“It can’t be very good.”
“It’s considerably bad.”
At Adora’s answer, Park Chan-woo’s expression grew satisfied.
Adora found his reaction frankly incomprehensible.
She understood that he knew the Creator Community existed and had a strategy to exploit it, but the users’ reaction had gone beyond merely inflamed—it was apocalyptic.
—This creature is a Creator like us?
—Preposterous.
—I thought I’d misjudged something, but……
—That I would see such vulgar, cheap writing in the Creator Community—the day has come.
—Who is this? What manner of wretch?
—Earth 666? Very well. I shall incinerate it entirely.
—That one so lacking in refinement shares rank as a Lord of the Abyss with me—it is lamentable indeed. I shall discover what this creature does through the Abyss of Earth 666.
—For the crime of wounding my eyes, I shall flay the skin and sever the limbs, then submerge them in boiling lava.
—In the Pit of Worms, the eyes and brain shall……
Adora could not bring herself to read what came after.
It was, quite literally, everything but outright profanity.
In measured, courteous language, they poured forth descriptions of cruelty without end.
The problem was that this had gone far beyond merely “grabbing attention.”
They had revealed a location.
Earth 666 Creative Abyss!
If they attempted to identify the creator who had brought that place into being, Adora’s existence risked exposure.
And should Adora be identified, her territory would be in danger as well.
Not only her territory, but this Land of Valhalla itself could burn and vanish.
“Do not worry. There is no way for them to discover us.”
Park Chan-woo was not unaware of Adora’s concern.
But it was groundless anxiety, nothing more.
A Creator could not be identified unless they revealed themselves—there was no method to do so otherwise.
Unless someone forced them into bankruptcy or attempted direct transaction by claiming to invest.
“Understood. If you say it is so, then it shall be so.”
Adora, too, was eventually convinced.
The die had been cast, and all they could do now was watch to see what number it showed.
Then, as if by some prior arrangement, Park Chan-woo and Adora turned to look behind them.
There lay the “Creative Abyss” they had prepared.
A land divided by black lines.
Within those lines stood a single massive cylindrical structure, alone and imposing.
‘The Colosseum.’
The Colosseum itself.
An arena that flourished in the Roman era.
That building where gladiators once fought—yes, that was it.
Common enough in concept, yet its contents were anything but common.
Had he planned to proceed simplistically, he would never have begun at all.
His purpose was singular.
To create a proper Creative Abyss, to draw the Creators’ attention, and to benefit humanity.
Beyond that, Park Chan-woo’s true goal was to sweep up the Creators’ Coins.
This was merely the foundation for that beginning.
‘Humanity had always known of the Creator Community’s existence in dim outline.’
Mankind understood that a space where Creators exchanged views existed.
Though he had not imagined it would be called the “Creator Community.”
Through conversations with Adora, he had come to certainty.
And so he had resolved to use it.
Every card that could be played must be played, after all.
‘The attention has been drawn sufficiently. Now all that remains is to wait for visitors.’
He resolved to wait with patience.
Given that the post was climbing in ranking as a trending topic in the Creator Community, it was inevitable that countless Creators would rush toward the Abyss of Earth 666.
He’d made the location public and crafted the narrative to spark curiosity.
Such intense interest risked triggering backlash, but he’d prepared for every contingency.
Then it happened.
Whirrrrr!
A subtle tremor rippled through the Colosseum’s interior.
Someone had entered.
Whirrrr!
Moments later, another tremor appeared.
A dark smile curved across his lips.
‘Go on. Kill each other now.’
* * *
Bukhansan.
At its peak, a Creative Abyss had opened.
Earth 666.
The designation meant this was the 666th Abyss still active on the current Earth.
Because the Creator Community had already made it a topic of heated discussion, countless Creators began watching that location with keen attention.
But merely watching revealed nothing.
So several Creators sent their Avatars to climb Bukhansan.
“What’s the point of climbing a mountain in this suffocating heat…”
Summer.
The hour when stifling heat and humidity pushed discomfort to its zenith.
Kim Ki-hyeon sighed heavily as he climbed.
“Just because you’re a Creator means I have to obey? Do you think I’m some slave?”
He might protest with words, but he couldn’t ignore the demands of his contracted Creator.
Through the benefits gained from the Avatar Contract, he’d survived more times than he could count.
He could grow stronger far faster than ordinary people.
《The Blue Hand Creator has heard your remarks and is deeply displeased.》
“Ah—! I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I’ve committed an unforgivable transgression! Please, just this once, grant me forgiveness…!”
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Kim Ki-hyeon immediately threw himself prostrate on the ground, striking his head against it.
He’d never imagined the Creator could actually be listening.
‘What, what is this? Has my Creator suddenly taken an interest in me?’
Ordinarily, the Blue Hand Creator barely looked at Kim Ki-hyeon—seemed to have little interest in him at all.
So receiving this sort of reaction was a first, whether he hurled curses or gestured mockingly at the sky.
In that instant.
‘Mm!’
…His mind went blank.
He felt the gaze of a third presence.
The Creator’s gaze—something only an Avatar Contract holder could sense.
He grasped what was happening almost immediately.
…The Blue Hand Creator was perceiving the world through his eyes.
But why?
‘Did something partway up the mountain catch the Creator’s attention?’
No other explanation made sense.
Kim Ki-hyeon rose and climbed rapidly toward the higher slopes.
Fortunately, his Creator seemed indifferent to his recent outburst.
Truthfully, probably just didn’t care much.
A human doesn’t rage at an insect for cursing at him.
That’s how Kim Ki-hyeon pressed onward with all his strength until he reached the mountainside.
“…An Abyss?”
There it was.
That violet haze was unmistakable.
【’Enter.’】
The Blue Hand Creator’s command reached his ears.
He was to enter that Abyss.
What manner of Abyss could move his contracted Creator to speak directly?
Kim Ki-hyeon drew a deep breath and stepped into the Abyss.
The moment he did.
Ding!
《Entry Condition: ‘Avatar Contract Holder’》
《Only humans who have signed the Avatar Contract may enter.》
《Will you proceed?》
“…….”
Kim Ki-hyeon’s brow furrowed for a moment.
He’d never seen an entry condition like this before.
The moment he stepped inside, he’d be announcing to the world that he was an Avatar.
Public perception of Avatars was already poor.
That’s why Avatars went to desperate lengths to conceal their nature.
But entering this Abyss meant voluntarily exposing himself as one.
And yet he was being told to go in anyway?
【’Enter.’】
‘Damn it, you bastard.’
A soundless echo.
Kim Ki-hyeon’s face twisted into a grimace.
But a Creator’s command was absolute.
An Avatar’s fate was to obey without question.
Ding!
《Entry successful upon condition satisfaction.》
《Congratulations!》
《You have won the First-come Event.》
《You have obtained 1 Coin.》
《Avatar Creator, please begin your betting!》
Whoosh!
The moment he entered, the surroundings transformed.
Kim Ki-hyeon turned his head to assess the situation, then blinked hard.
“…What is this place? A Colosseum?”
“Seems like it.”
“Wait—!”
The sudden voice startled Kim Ki-hyeon.
Someone else had arrived before him.
But the surprises didn’t end there.
Ding!
《A match between Avatar Kim Ki-hyeon and Avatar Park Chul-min is scheduled.》
《The match will begin in 6 hours.》

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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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