Level -99 Archmage - Chapter 4

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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 4. Acquiring Ruinous Rewards
Was the world insane, or was he?
Park Chan-woo genuinely wondered.
Rewards poured down like a tidal wave.
Some of the names that appeared were shocking enough to stagger the mind—especially considering these were rewards from a first Abyss.
‘A Platinum Box!’
Setting aside Gold Boxes—a Platinum Box, no less!
And not just any Platinum Box, either.
‘Three stars…… I’ve never even heard of anyone obtaining a regular Platinum Box in the early stages, let alone one with three stars.’
The message spelled it out: a miracle that transcended incomprehension.
Well, he had hunted a Fallen Spirit alone despite a 109-level gap, so calling it a “Mythical Quest” would be inadequate praise.
Yet even Park Chan-woo found it unexpected that the Abyss would offer a three-star Platinum Box as compensation.
There were five types of Boxes obtainable from the Abyss in total.
Bronze, Silver, Gold, Platinum, and Diamond.
The Diamond Box was an “exclusive Box” only available upon reaching Level 99, so for nearly everyone, the Platinum Box represented the highest tier.
With each star that appeared, the Box’s reward level climbed sharply.
What of three?
He couldn’t even imagine what it might contain.
‘Those who obtained a Gold Box from their first Abyss hover around 1% of the population.’
In truth, even a Gold Box was remarkable.
In the past, he’d scarcely managed to survive twenty percent, obtaining only a single Bronze Box as consolation.
Those who acquired a Gold Box on their first Abyss represented roughly one percent of the total population.
Yet he had demonstrated the miracle of surpassing a ninety percent survival rate, with 824 people living.
The fact that all 824 survivors obtained Gold Boxes was truly unprecedented.
‘No one obtained a Platinum Box, though.’
He was certain of that much, despite everything.
If one existed, Park Chan-woo would have known.
The armaments dispensed from a Platinum Box would prove enormously valuable in navigating the Abyss going forward.
Though Gold and Platinum differed by only one tier, the treasures within operated on entirely different scales.
Had someone obtained a Platinum Box, they would have grown exponentially stronger and monopolized every advantage.
Park Chan-woo could not have failed to notice such a person.
That was precisely why he had sought to return to the moment the first Abyss opened.
‘Growth velocity hinges upon the rewards of the first Abyss.’
His past self had been far too slow, far too late.
He didn’t begin properly conquering the Abyss until nearly half a year later.
Only when society itself began to collapse did he finally move.
…How bitterly he had regretted it.
Had he compressed that timespan, seized the peak faster, he would never have entertained such a desperate notion as offering Sephiroth as a sacrifice to return to the past.
He was certain that had he merely secured the rewards of the first Abyss properly, his “growth ceiling” would have been entirely different.
‘Still…’
Park Chan-woo studied the floating text once more.
The rewards were staggering, but what followed was equally breath-taking.
Numerous Creators were showing interest in him.
Park Chan-woo smiled faintly.
‘The Creator who built this Abyss might go bankrupt.’
Those “Creators” were precisely those who constructed the Abyss’s contents.
They were supreme beings who positioned the Fallen Spirits and orchestrated 881 people in a game of tag.
The “Abyss Sovereigns”—entities unrelated to the Twelve Races.
Their bets on this Abyss had produced the final calculation of “projected 21.7% survival rate.”
Yet 93.5% had survived—more than four times that estimate.
The Creators who had wagered stood to lose all their “Coins,” while the Creator who opened and oversaw this Abyss would likely face bankruptcy, forfeiting 824 Gold Boxes and a three-star Platinum Box in the process.
‘It should be time for one to show up by now.’
He steadied his reeling thoughts.
Presently, as another message materialized, Park Chan-woo inwardly cried eureka.
《The sovereign ‘Panting Preta’ requests a reward exchange, claiming they have something better to offer.》
《If you accept, you may obtain ‘100 Gold Boxes’ in place of the ‘Platinum Box (★★★)’.》
《Additionally, an ‘Incarnation Contract’ with the ‘Panting Preta’ becomes possible.》
《Should you proceed with an ‘Incarnation Contract’ rather than an ‘Apostle Contract’, you will gain corrective benefits in Abysses created by the ‘Panting Preta’, and may inherit a ‘Secret Class’.》
It unfolded exactly as Park Chan-woo had anticipated.
‘They hate bankruptcy after all.’
There had been a few cases in the past where a Creator had gone bankrupt.
Each time, the Creators would twist themselves into knots trying to recover however they could, attempting to coax those who’d cleared their Abysses with every excuse imaginable.
The most common method was “reward reduction.”
Pretending to give something better, feigning generosity while quietly shrinking the rewards—a ploy to avoid bankruptcy at any cost.
They’d try to slash not only their own compensation but everyone else’s as much as possible.
‘If I’d known nothing about this, I would’ve accepted.’
It was the kind of offer that would tempt someone ignorant of the truth.
They would’ve bitten eagerly at the thought of becoming “allies” with the one who’d created this hell.
A hundred Boxes would be better than one, and with an Incarnation Contract instead of an Apostle Contract, they might’ve dreamed of becoming an unprecedentedly powerful force.
But Park Chan-woo knew better.
This was bait.
Nothing more than a Creator thrashing about to avoid bankruptcy.
A hundred Gold Boxes?
Even a joke—they couldn’t compare to a single Platinum Box.
Different Boxes yielded different treasures.
The difference was stark and irreplaceable.
Especially since what he held now was a three-star Platinum Box.
Not a hundred Gold Boxes—even a million wouldn’t make him trade this treasure among treasures.
‘An Incarnation Contract is a slave contract. Nothing but word games.’
Besides, it was better to keep distance from those Abyss Lords.
Once you became an Incarnation, you fell under their heavy influence.
You could be forcibly summoned to the Abysses they created, or ordered to manipulate “Survival Rates” within them.
If the Survival Rate exceeded expectations, you’d secretly kill people and such.
There were countless Incarnations out there doing “troll” work at their Creators’ command.
“Get… lost.”
Park Chan-woo smiled with grim satisfaction, raising his middle finger.
In that instant.
《”No! This can’t be happening! How did they even earn that qualification!”》
《The subject ‘Panting Preta’ has gone bankrupt!》
《’Panting Preta’ has been stripped of the status of ‘Creator.’》
《Your rank as ‘Sovereign’ is demoted due to massive debt.》
《You receive ‘3 Coins’ for your greatest contribution to bankrupting the ‘Creator.’》
《Using Coins, you can escape from an unwanted Abyss.》
‘As expected.’
One Creator had fallen right from the start.
It was delicious.
He felt satisfied as if he’d eaten without hunger.
And on top of that, he’d gained Coins.
‘Three Escape Coins right at the start? If anyone else saw this, they’d be so jealous they’d faint.’
Without exaggeration, Coins were the finest treasure.
Just the simple fact that you could escape from a miserable Abyss whenever you pleased made them invaluable.
As time passed, the difficulty of the Abysses rose sharply.
Some Abysses offered negligible rewards yet demanded endless time and effort.
Or there were Abysses that targeted specific individuals.
Places called “Sniper Abysses.”
Without a Coin when sniped, your survival rate plummeted to a mere five percent.
The problem was that obtaining Escape Coins was as rare as plucking stars from the sky.
So avoiding drawing too much attention from the Creators was quite important.
Yet he’d obtained three Escape Coins right from the start.
It meant he had nothing to fear from the Creators.
‘A Creator who opens a Sniper Abyss takes on considerable risk themselves. If the target escapes, the damage is inevitable.’
An Abyss was a place where participant and subject contended against each other.
Naturally, if the subject’s objective failed, the subject took damage too.
As in this case—they could go bankrupt.
So then.
‘I’m not making any contracts with you lot.’
《You have rejected all Apostle Contract proposals.》
《The Creators who made the proposals are displeased.》
“If it bothers you, open a Sniper Abyss.”
Now he didn’t care if they did.
Acquiring a class through an Apostle Contract?
It was an option, true enough, but Park Chan-woo had no intention of striking bargains with the Abyss Lords.
Creators were beings who, having obtained one thing, hungered for two.
He would walk his own path alone.
Only then did Park Chan-woo close his eyes in peace.
* * *
When he opened them, the world had transformed.
“What is the ‘Abyss’ that struck humanity simultaneously across the globe?”
“Current death tolls in Seoul alone are estimated to exceed 100,000.”
“Humanity’s awakening and the path forward—what does our species face?”
“The apocalypse has arrived!”
Television, newspapers, the internet—every outlet screamed the same thing: the Abyss and nothing but the Abyss.
Late afternoon.
Park Chan-woo stumbled home and, after showering, sat on the edge of his bed.
With the news still playing on the television, he roughly toweled his hair dry while fumbling with his phone.
“……Was it always this difficult?”
After twenty years away from electronics, even retrieving old memories made the devices feel clumsy in his hands.
Within six months, the foundations of society would crumble entirely.
‘If I can only minimize the damage when the massive Abyss opens in half a year—when humanity first encounters the Twelve Races—’
At least the nation could retain some semblance of function.
The difference between a collapsing infrastructure and one that holds is the difference between heaven and earth.
But the ‘massive Abyss’ opening in half a year—the First Race War—would be merciless.
Humanity had been overwhelmingly defeated even by the weakest soldiers.
As a result, mankind was forced to surrender 120 million people.
Ten million to each race.
Even now, the thought of it kindled his rage.
They had lost so utterly helpless.
Humanity’s defeat had been sealed before anyone could even attempt resistance.
“Sacrifice God. How much longer do you plan to sleep?”
He murmured to himself.
The Sacrifice God still did not answer.
If he had returned, he surely would have come back with him, yet there was only silence.
But something else was strange.
He distinctly remembered seeing a message that more offerings would be required to resurrect the Sacrifice God.
“Look here. You didn’t sacrifice your own soul to send me back, did you?”
It seemed unlikely, but he said it half in jest.
The Sacrifice God operated on pure quid pro quo.
He never made a losing bargain.
Park Chan-woo had stumbled into a contract with him during his years walking the path of magic, yet not once had the creature given more than the value of what was sacrificed to him.
Certainly, he would never be foolish enough to surrender his own soul to send a human back in time.
‘……He’s probably just sleeping.’
Even in the past, there had been stretches of days when he would fall silent.
Park Chan-woo forced himself to let it go.
There were more pressing concerns now.
‘I’ve only gained a single level.’
From -99 to -98.
It made no sense.
Honestly, he’d expected at least five levels.
At -99, the required experience should have been low enough to allow for explosive leveling.
But it hadn’t happened.
‘If I don’t return to normal level, I’ll die within 500 days.’
Normal level meant ‘1 Level.’
In other words, he needed to gain 99 more levels.
It was absurd.
One measly level in the midst of all this chaos.
And yet he had to repeat it 99 more times.
There was another worry.
‘It’s not 500 days from now.’
Not 500 days later—within 500 days he would die.
Which meant he could die any moment, couldn’t he.
‘…My level went up, but my Stats didn’t.’
My Stats remained at the minimum baseline of 1.
The condition ‘Weakest’ had fixed my base Stats at 1.
That didn’t mean there was no way to grow stronger.
‘I can raise my additional Stats through equipment unique options, class effects, support magic, offerings to the Sacrifice God, and so on.’
Only my base Stats were locked in place; my additional Stats could still climb.
And there were many ways to raise additional Stats.
Thanks to the widening level gap, the rewards had improved as well.
Once Park Chan-woo had organized his thoughts, he retrieved two Boxes.
A Gold Box and a three-star Platinum Box.
‘Now for the thrilling unboxing.’
There was no reason to delay.
It was far more exciting than unboxing some expensive luxury brand.
This was Park Chan-woo’s favorite moment.
Collecting Boxes as he wandered the Abyss, hunting for treasures within them—there was a peculiar thrill to it.
Without this simple joy, he might have grown tired of the bleak Abyss existence long ago.
“Open.”
Park Chan-woo opened the Gold Box first.
Ping!
《Opening the ‘Gold Box’.》
《You have acquired ‘Demon’s Pauldrons (Epic)’!》
Name: Demon’s Pauldrons
Level: -98
Grade: Epic
Description: Shoulder armor favored by the higher-ranking demons of the Abyss. The equipment’s low level has reduced its defensive power and durability.
Equip Slot: Shoulder Pauldrons
Defense: 2
Durability: 110
Unique Option: Vitality and Strength each increase by 2.
“Ah…!”
Park Chan-woo let out a short cry of delight.
Not bad at all.
It was the same grade as the Katana, but the unique option was far superior.
It was precisely the kind of equipment he needed.
The moment he placed the pauldrons—marked with a skull emblem—over his shoulder, they adjusted to size automatically and snapped into place.
‘Much better.’
Perhaps it was the two-point increase in both Vitality and Strength.
His whole body felt considerably lighter.
While his base Stats remained fixed at 1, his additional Stats seemed to apply without restriction.
Now only one thing remained.
He could have waited to level up before opening it, but Park Chan-woo thought differently.
‘Save it and it turns to waste.’
The Abyss was unforgiving—one couldn’t afford to hoard treasure.
And if durability ran out during use, or something better came along, he could simply offer it to the Sacrifice God and gain different benefits instead.
Park Chan-woo carefully opened the three-star Platinum Box.
《Opening the ‘Platinum Box (★★★)’.》
《The rewards from the Platinum Box have transcended three times over.》
《Confirming reward grade: Eternal.》
《Please select one of the following five rewards.》
《World Tree Staff, Destruction King’s Helm, True Dragon’s Heart, Star Grimoire, Gaz Knight’s Great Sword》
“……!!!”

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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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